The Fox King's Maid Is the Transmigrated Greatest Witch!

The last thing I remember before the darkness took me was my twin sister’s face.

Ivy.

She stood beside my bed with a glass of wine in her hand. Tears shone in her eyes, and her mouth trembled as if she were heartbroken.

But I saw her smile.

It was small, cruel, and full of envy.

“You look so good when you're on your knees, sister. Don’t worry, sister. I’ll wear your crown so much better than you ever did.” 

The poison burned through my chest. I reached for my golden wand, but my fingers slipped against the cold floor. Above me, the stars I had once commanded blurred into silver dots.

I was Iris, the Greatest Witch on the continent. I was a respectable, deeply feared, and powerful sorceress who had protected whole kingdoms, broken ancient curses, and bent the night sky to my absolute will.

Yet my own sister had killed me.

I had expected to wake in the afterworld. Perhaps there would be a quiet garden, a warm bed, and no one trying to poison me.

Instead, a sharp pain struck my back.

“Number 404! Stand up straight!” a woman shouted. “The Fox Demon King will never choose you if you cannot even bow properly.”

I stumbled against a stone wall and blinked.

Where was I?

The room smelled of lavender soap and fresh linen. Hundreds of young women stood in neat rows in plain maid uniforms. Some held tea trays; others looked close to tears.

A woman with a wooden fan marched between them, her tight bun perfectly still.

“Chins up! Shoulders back! You are in the royal palace now. Do not embarrass yourselves.”

I looked down at my hands.

They were smaller than mine should have been. The skin was rough, and a bar of lavender soap rested in my palm. My clothes were faded and plain, with a white apron tied around my waist.

This was not my body.

A sharp ache spread behind my eyes. Then memories rushed into my mind.

A tiny rented room. An empty purse. A cold meal eaten alone. A quiet girl named Aria who had taken a palace job because she needed money and had nowhere else to go.

I had become her.

At the same moment Ivy’s poison stopped my heart, my soul had slipped into the body of a poor maid on the other side of the continent. I was now in the hidden, misty kingdom of the Fox Demons.

I pressed my fingers to my temple and tried to take it all in.

“Number 404!” the Head Maid snapped, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Are you even listening to me?”

I blinked, pulling myself out of the clouds, and quickly looked up. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Then stop staring at your hands.” Her eyes narrowed like a hawk’s. “You are here to serve the young lord—not to stand around getting lost in your own daydreams.”

I let my gaze slip right back to the floor. “Of course, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Inside, I was not nearly so obedient.

I was Iris.

Before waking up in this body, I had held a golden wand that could call down starlight and command empires. Archmages had bowed to my power, and kings had begged for my favor.

Now, the greatest witch on the continent had been stripped of her name for a number. Her magic replaced by a bucket of soap.

The greatest of all time... stuck in a cheap, maid apron.

It was an absolute joke. What a pathetic little insult.

Still, I could be patient. If I could survive ancient curses and rogue dragons, I could easily survive a palace full of strict maids.

As I quietly reached for the magic inside me, a faint warmth stirred beneath my ribs. My power was weak, but it was there. The stars had not forgotten me.

A nervous maid beside me tugged at my sleeve. “Look at the balcony,” she whispered. “The King has arrived.”

The whole room fell silent.

I lifted my eyes.

High above the courtyard, a tall man stood beneath a carved stone arch. Morning sunlight slipped through the mist and shone on his silver hair. He wore a dark royal coat trimmed with gold, and a small crown rested on his head.

Nine enormous silver tails flowed behind him.

They moved like soft smoke in the wind. His beautiful face held no warmth; his golden eyes belonged to someone who never needed to repeat an order.

The Fox Demon King.

I had heard stories about him. They said he was powerful, proud, impossible to please, and rarely smiled. Looking at him now, I believed every word.

The maids bowed at once. I bowed a heartbeat later. I did not want to be thrown out before finding the kitchens.

The King’s gaze passed over the courtyard.

For one strange moment, I felt it brush against me. The air seemed to grow still, as if the palace itself were holding its breath.

Then I noticed the guard standing beside him.

The guard carried a woven basket lined with soft blue blankets. Something inside it wriggled. Two fluffy fox ears popped over the rim, followed by a tiny nose.

A few maids made quiet, delighted sounds.

“A baby fox,” the girl beside me whispered. “They say it was found alone near the northern woods. The King has taken it into the palace.”

The round little creature peered over the blanket, its ears twitching.

Everyone else saw a fox cub.

I saw a spell.

A clever one.

My witch-sight flared before I could stop it. Gold threads shimmered around the basket, wrapping the baby in a bright illusion.

The fox ears were fake.

So was the furry tail poking from the blanket.

Beneath the spell lay tiny crimson scales, folded wings, and a small tail that glowed like a coal. A spark popped from its tip and vanished.

I nearly gasped.

A Dragon Prince.

A real one, hidden inside the Fox King’s palace and disguised as a baby fox.

Why hide a dragon child here?

The baby yawned, and a tiny flame flickered between its lips. The guard covered the basket quickly.

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing.

Whoever arranged this disguise was an absolute amateur of a witch.

Then the golden threads trembled.

My magic had touched the spell.

Damn it.

I pulled my power back at once, but it was too late.

High above us, the Fox Demon King turned his head.

His golden eyes swept over the rows of maids and stopped on me.

I lowered my head with the others, for now. My new body was shaking, and I silently ordered it to stop.

Had he sensed my magic?

I kept my face still, but my heart began to pound. He was too far away to see the soap in my hand, yet I felt he could see through my borrowed uniform and into my soul.

I was not afraid of a handsome man with nine tails.

Well, not very afraid.

I did not know the King’s name, and I had no plan to learn it today. First, I needed to keep my head down and learn how this life worked.

But the tiny dragon in the basket gave another squeak, and a little puff of smoke rose above the blanket.

I had to press my lips together again.

This palace held a baby dragon who could not control his fire, a king who had noticed me before I even found the laundry room, and me—the greatest sorceress of the age, reborn as a maid with a bar of lavender soap.

Ivy thought she had taken everything from me.

She was terribly wrong. My magic was still alive, and my story was far from over.

A smile crept onto my lips.

If fate wanted to throw a cold Fox King and a troublesome little dragon in my path, then I would simply have to master them all.

Ivy would so

on learn that the deadliest magic—is always wrapped in the scent of lavender and lace.