Tried to catch a possible fiancé, but ended up speeding so much that I slipped off a cliff straight into an inter-world portal. Now I’m working like a prisoner in a fancy blindfold/chain collar on the fields, as if I’m cursed, and, on schedule, I feed blood to the mysterious master vampires. But I won’t panic: I have an unbreakable plan drafted back in my youth under my grandmother’s dictation. Marry an oligarch — that is, a prince; get a villa on the azure coast — that is, a castle; and give birth to two children before thirty. And I will complete this brief — in my world or in someone else’s, it doesn’t matter: the result is what counts.