I Became the Duke in a Cringey Romance Novel

03 - Humanity

Duke Theodore Audrey may look cool and collected, but he takes shits just like the rest of us. 

I crane my head over my bare legs, exerting pressure into my back as I force out the worst diarrhea I've ever experienced. The porcelain toilet seat is cold and convex, making for an extremely uncomfortable effort.

What the hell was in that salad?

My eyes dart to the large door, which is cracked open for ventilation. 

This can't be the duke's first dump, can it? 

Everything about this normal human response to crappy food feels foreign somehow, almost as though this body has never once experienced this level of discomfort. Perhaps the trauma in his life—his parents' abusive rule over him—outweighed, or in this case, completely eliminated any other aspects of pain in his life. Including diarrhea and nausea.

Well, until now. 

The most hideous noises ring off the walls of the fancy bathroom, and I swear the smell worsens by the second. 

My nostrils burn.

My ass is on fire. 

Everything is in flames.

The fumes are soon too much, and my vision goes blurry. 

I fall off the toilet, and don't remember what happens next. 

🌸🌸🌸

When I reopen my eyes, I'm staring up at the white canopy of a bed that is not my own, but the duke's. A damp towel sits over my slanted forehead and my legs pulse with pain. I must've passed out from defecation syncope, of all things.

I know a thing or two about health; I decided long ago I'd become a doctor to support my family. I'm only in my sophomore year of undergrad, and thus don't have the field experience yet, but this is something they teach us early on, as a sort of joke. 

Profs would holler after students leaving mid-lecture to use the bathroom, "Don't pass out, or one of us might have to drag your naked ass back to class." Luckily, that'd never happened, but it was fun to imagine...

The memory turns sour, and my face suddenly flares with an intense heat. 

Someone had to move me from the bathroom to my bed, and I probably didn't look all that majestic sprawled across the tiled flooring with my undergarment wadded around my white ankles.

"Sire," Douglass cuts in next to me.

I nearly jump out of my skin.

"How long have you been there?!" I sit up abruptly and the wet towel tumbles down my chiseled face, lifting my bottom lip over the top one, and then finally falls to my groin. I wince at the dull pain from the impact and stare into the moustache of the duke's—and I suppose, temporarily also my—butler.

The small man clears his throat, his eyes half-closed with a look opposite that of compassion. With a heavy sigh, he waves a hand down, gesturing for me to lay back in bed. 

"You're lucky I'm the one to have discovered you in the bathroom, my liege. You had quite a... fit," he says, chewing on the last few words. A gloved hand reaches for the wet towel, which he places back on my brow. "You've been acting rather strangely, and have attracted the attention of several nobles as of late. How do you presume to mask your mistakes this time, Sire?"

Mistakes? 

Is he talking about Annalise appearing in my bed? 

Has he seen the strange handkerchief Annalise left behind?

Or is he referring to the most recent blunder: my explosive diarrhea?

Now that I think of it, I don't remember any of these things happening in the novel, so why?

If I'm truly a character in a novel, why aren't normal plot elements happening? Shouldn't at least one thing remain constant? Not... whatever the hell this storyline is?

Character, in a novel... I wonder if something needs to be forced into play to kickstart the plot into motion...

Rachael is the female protagonist. If I can just remember how she meets the Duke, perhaps I can force the plot to progress so that strange things won't happen anymore. I can only hope that I don't pass out from pooping again, or receive strange embroidery with my real name stitched into the back in serial-killer font. 

If anything is to remain constant, it's the female protagonist, right? And the only way to forcibly meet her...

"A ball," I say, a bit uncertain. Balls were thrown for noble occasions, so to prove that I'm well in the head and not actually an Asian kid stuck in a European noble's body, wouldn't this be the easiest way? Also, this would be an opportunity to "make up for my mistakes" as Douglass so kindly pointed out.

The butler squints his eyes at me, then relaxes when I make no move of surprise. He laughs airily. "Quite. I'd hope you hadn't lost your sense of decorum, my liege. A ball would be grand."

"And please invite Rachael," I say all too quickly. Am I being too hasty? Perhaps. 

He raises a brow. "R-Rachael, Sire?"

I nod fervently. 

"Rachael... of which family, Sire?"

"Of course, Rachael..." 

My eyes go wide with panic. 

Her last name.... what was it? 

Douglass must see the terror in my expression, because he clears his throat. "You're still sick, Sire. Please take a rest. I will handle invitations and ball preparation with your servants. Please, worry not. It's Wednesday now; shall we hold the ball this weekend?"

"Rachael..." is all I say, staring up at the bed's canopy. 

"Rachael will be there, Sire. Don't you worry. I will make it happen."

My eyelids grow heavy and I fall back asleep.

For some strange reason, I don't awake until the day of the ball. 

Characters

Douglass Wright
Butler of Audrey's Estate
Role: Stand-in father to the duke, butler