Amber POV

The person in the mirror isn't me. Sure, they do the same actions as I do since it's a mirror, but the person doing these actions isn't me. For all my life, I've had black hair cut to my shoulders with gray-green eyes and pale skin. I've never been described as ugly or pretty. I've had a plain appearance since I had grown out of my baby cuteness. The person in the mirror was beautiful. She was the kind of person that everyone would stare at even if they didn't like her romantically. She had the type of beauty that bordered on unnatural, like a fairy or elf. She had long, wavy honey brown hair without even a hint of frizz. Her lips were a shade in between pale pink and blood red. Her cheeks retained a natural blush that really outlined her near perfect facial structure. She had a rose beige skin tone that reminded me of earthy soil. The real kicker, however, the shining jewel of this human being that sat in the mirror before me, were her eyes. They were the color of gold, shimmering as if it were the genuine metal. There were touches of yellow and orange creating painter's lines across the surface adding to the sheer gorgeousness of the woman. At first, I was struck with withering jealousy until I realized that this woman in the mirror must have been me. She did everything I did, and looking down, my skin and hair color were the same as the girl in the mirror.

I thought I was dreaming. It must have been a realistic dream or something. That theory fell apart when I had begun reading things around the room I had woken up in. I had read somewhere that a person can't read in their dreams, and even if that wasn't the case, this dream seemed far too real. With that out of the way, I wondered if I was drunk or high. I wasn't the kind of person who would normally do that, but I had never been pressured into doing it. I didn't know how I would react in that situation. Maybe someone had been adamant of getting me to drink or smoke something, and I wasn't strong enough to refuse. I wasn't sure about that, though. I don't think being drunk or high creates a hallucination this solid and unchanging. I didn't know what the next logical conclusion was. I sat down on the mat in the small room that I had woken up in. I wrapped my arms around my knees as I tried to think through my situation. It couldn't have been a kidnapping since even plastic surgery couldn't change someone's appearance as much as I've changed. I guess this could be the afterlife? Would my appearance change in the afterlife, though?

"Amber, you are about to go on. Are you ready or should I just fire you now instead of later?" A voice said, someone walking down in the room without knocking. I looked down to make sure I was dressed, and realized that I was wearing something that I had never seen in real life before. I was wearing this bra thing made from a ribbon-like orange cloth. It matched with the puffy pants that I wore of the same color. My wrists were adorned with painted gold cuffs with a jewel shimmering on the surface. I was barefoot, and my hair was loose all around me. I had never worn anything like this in my life. I had never seen anyone wear something like this! The man who walked inside didn't look the least bit startled by my odd choice of clothing. In fact, he wore something that wasn't as strange but definitely still weird. He had an off-white button up shirt with dark purple pants and vest. He had beige skin like me, but his eyes were brown and his hair was much darker. And those eyes were staring at me with impatient exasperation. "Need I remind you that if you fail tonight again, I am going to have to fire you?"

Well, I guess I had a past in this new world. I resisted the urge to cringe in front of the man. What was worse than this? These people have probably been affected by what I've said and done. They could be mad at me, and I wouldn't know why. I don't even know what I'm not supposed to fail at tonight! There was one thing clear, however. These people knew some things about me. If I asked around, maybe I could get answers about what happened to me. Even more pressing, however, was that it seemed my lifestyle depended on this man. In this strange world, I needed to keep my living space and some amount of money. I wouldn't survive without knowing anything! For that reason, I stood up to face the man with the brightest smile I could muster. "If it is success that you desire, I will deliver it tenfold. Watch me, my good sir, and you will not be disappointed."

The man sighed. "I swear to the gods, Amber, if you don't take this seriously..." He didn't finish that threat as he walked away. I puffed my cheeks in annoyance as I followed him. We walked down a hallway that seemed to be made out of red clay. The hallway dipped down into a set of stairs, and the man walked down without looking back to see if I was following. Once we came out of the stairs, we went through a curtain to the outside world. The streets were made of light colored dirt. Most of the buildings were made of clay, and the lowering beat down from what I could assume was maybe west. The most prominent part, however, were the dozens of booths that were set up with vendors trying to sell their goods to anyone that passed by. The smell of rich spices wafted into the air, mixing with the sticky humidity coated with dust. I found myself smiling as I looked everywhere I could. The people didn't really pay much attention to me other than vendors showing me various goods. I probably would have stayed there all day if the man hadn't grabbed onto my hand to drag me past the crowds to the building at the very end of the street.

There was a large wall built from white stone stacked on each other like concrete blocks. Right against this wall was a huge building that was built from wood, with a huge wraparound porch with lanterns hanging from the red awning. The man went right into the building, but I stopped when I was standing on the porch. The lanterns casted beams of light around the wood. I could still hear the bustle of the street we had left behind. I turned to face those people. No one was looking at me, but something about this painfully reminded me of my life that had come before this one, when I had stood on stages under the spotlight while the crowd waited with bated breath. The parallels were there, even if the detailing was spotty. I felt tears prick my eyes. I couldn't have been in the same world. I don't know how I got here, but I knew for certain that wherever this place was, it wasn't my home. Maybe I had reincarnated.

"Amber, quit wasting time. The show is about to start. This is your last chance to stay with this group. After that... I don't know. You'll be a beggar, probably, or you could find a job as a courtesan," the man said as he came out the door to fetch me. I stared at him for a long moment. This was a new world which meant a new chance. I wouldn't let my past from my last life or the past of this person I had taken over decide what I would do next. I would get some money from whatever show I was doing with this group, and after that, I would journey to... well, I don't know yet. I had never had the freedom to think about what I would be doing with my life if it wasn't as a professional dancer. I could do something similar in this life. It wasn't like I hated dancing or resented it. In fact, in the past, I had really enjoyed it.

"Did my words go through one ear and out the other? I told you that I would find a way to impress you, didn't I? Don't make me out to be a liar," I said, walking past him into the building. The room was wider than it was long with a few chairs underneath the windows and a chandelier illuminating the room. There were a few posters tucked onto the wall of travelling circus groups. My eyes widened as I saw one with my new face on it. There were several people on the poster, but I could tell that it was me in the corner as the opener. Reading the taglines underneath, I realized that I was supposed to dance for the crowd until the real performers were ready to put the show on. I was meant to entertain to keep people there. Apparently, I wasn't doing a good job at it if the words of that man who had been dragging me around was anything to go by. I guess I would need to change that if I wanted to keep a job for a little bit. Who knows, maybe the dances from my past life would be enough to keep whoever I was supposed to be entertaining to stay.

I had thought that before I saw the audience. When I think of a circus, I was more inclined to imagine children eating cotton candy in bleachers with bored parents. It didn't even cross my mind that I was probably wearing these revealing clothing because I was a dancer for adult men... nobility or at least wealthy if their clothing was anything to go by. I had never been that type of dancer before so I didn't know any appropriate moves. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't remember anything from Amber's past life. What had she done for these men? Did she dance like a pole dancer? Was that what was expected of me? I couldn't go out there with no clue of what I was doing and expect to keep the job! I needed to think of something else... something I could do that was appropriate for this crowd. Perhaps if I did something like that of my past life, I could pass it off as an exotic dance. I suppose I could perform an intricate dance.

I stepped onto the stage as the lights began to dim. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. A few lanterns began to glow, casting the room in a red tinted glow. Most of the light landed upon the stage, creating an illuminated walkway that I could venture down. I closed my eyes as my limbs raised into position. Seconds later, a hush had fallen over the men. A string instrument filled the air with a soft melody, and I let my arms drop slowly from above my head to at my side. As I did so, my legs took several long steps forwards before I pushed off my toes to spin around. When I caught myself, I threw one arm up at a curve and the other one bended on the opposite side and downwards.

The dance I was doing was one of my favorites. I had learned it a few years back from one of the few people who had always believed in me. She had taught me a lot about dance, looking back on it. As a kid from the slums, I hadn't been able to afford dance classes, but the woman had seen potential in my wild attempts on the streets. She had taught me some of the most valuable things like stretching, and she reminded me every day that dance was meant to be the time when the soul took over the body. The mind could do what it wanted all day long, perform mundane tasks from muscle memory. I remembered standing outside a store with TVs, watching the professionals go about their dances, and the woman had placed an arm around my shoulder. I had never been able to forget the way she had been complaining that the dancers weren't using their souls. I remember it so viscerally because the next moment, she leaned down beside me, her warmth breath against my ear as the lights from TV sparkled on the ice painted across the glass. She told me that I was better than they were because when I danced, I allowed my soul to shine for everyone to see. It was a sorrowful memory because she had died a few weeks later. Homeless people didn't last long in the winter. At least I stayed in a group home that kept me sheltered. That woman had died, and I was the only person who cared. Looking back on it, she was probably the reason why I never gave up on my dream to dance even when everyone told me an orphaned girl from the dirtiest parts of the city couldn't make it. Any time I wanted to give up, I had heard her voice in my head, telling me that I had a gift that needed to be shared. In the end, I had finally gotten the leading role to the dance we had watched on TV together that winter's night. It didn't matter since I hadn't been able to perform it.

That thought made my limbs go cold. Why couldn't I perform that part? The question was like the noise that brought down an avalanche. I remembered a dark, autumn night. I remembered a street bustling with people. I remembered standing in a crowd, my limbs working through the steps of the dance while a song played in my ears. I remembered walking forwards followed by falling down. I remembered pain and blood and hearing a woman's voice lamenting her sorrows over being unable to rescue a friend. I had died, alone and broken on a street listening to one of the saddest songs I had ever heard. I had died... and now, I was alive. I was living as a girl named Amber who kept an audience seated until the real performers were ready. I wondered if I had transmigrated into the body of someone from my world or if I was somewhere new. Surely, there weren't any nobles in my world that dressed like old Englishmen.

The song ended. I realized that I had more or less blacked out during the performance. It was like that for me sometimes. When I had a lot on my plate, my thoughts would wander as my body continued without instruction. Though, it was more likely that I would get lost in a song. The notes would form a story in my head that would distract me from the task at hand. I had always acquainted this lapse in memory with what the woman had told me about the soul taking over. I didn't need my mind to dance, so it let my soul take the wheel while it took a small walk in the park that was my worries. I let a smile tug on my face. At least that much hadn't changed even with a new body. I may have a new face and lifestyle, but the abilities have been carried over along with the memories.

The crowd began cheering as I looked at all of them. I tossed some of my hair behind my shoulder as I gazed at them all. It was clear why they were happy, but I found that I really didn't care. I had fun, at least, and seeing an adoring crowd- no matter what they were adoring- was enough to make me feel like I had done something worthwhile. At least no one had left. That must mean I get to keep Amber's job, if just for one more performance. I was about to turn to leave when I saw something in the back. It wasn't anything that really should have caught my attention, but it struck me as so familiar that my eyes stayed there a few seconds longer than they should have. It was a man, obviously, but he was wearing a white mask over his face. He didn't look particularly interested in anything as he sipped his drink. As if he felt my stare, he looked over at me. Our eyes met for a moment. Again, nostalgia punctured through my heart. Who was that man? Where did I know him from? I broke eye contact first. I gave the crowd another smile, and I winked at someone before I left the stage. It was definitely interesting the situation I found myself in, but I hoped to make the most of it.