It's been 5 days since I came to this world. I began to realize that maybe I really did die on day 3. Does this mean that I've transmigrated into another world? Like those cheesy reincarnation stories that I used to read?
Well this certainly didn't look like it. All those girls get sent into stories where they either know the plot, or have all the previous owner's memories sent to them. I on the other hand only know three things:
1. Her name is Lydia Clynes and she's a noble.
2. She allegedly tried to kill someone. And I mean allegedly because number 3 is that she's drop dead gorgeous.
Wait.
That's not what I meant! Yes she's pretty with smooth fair skin, big blue eyes, and the most–Gorgeous. Luscious. Shiniest. Fullest head of hair I've ever seen. And when I mean a full head of hair, I mean zero–nada bald spots! Ahhh–my stressed out life could never!
But despite her beauty, she was clearly mistreated at home. I'm not a historian, but I'm sure the rich were not this thin. Her limbs are as thin as twigs and her cheeks are so hollow. Her clothes barely fit and worst of all...she's got bruises on her back.
Some people are crazy, but I don't think Lydia was. She's too weak to even lift a small rock! And where would she be getting any poison to kill someone? The first time I tried to talk, my voice cracked so hard it sounded like a screech. She's clearly too afraid to even make a single peep around her family.
Oh yea. I guess there's one more thing to note. Her family sent her away to die.
They left me here. The coachman and his partner. Threw me out with my luggage on the side of a country road and went along their merry way back where they came from. I've been dragging what feels like 50 pounds of stuff which is actually just 2 dresses, identification papers, some money, and some toiletries. This girl really is so weak.
That's why I've been talking in my head for awhile. And I'm pretending someone is watching me. If I'm gonna be in a story, then I might as well imagine the readers too. Or watchers. What if someone is watching me on TV right now?
Well they probably switched the channel already since all I've been doing is dragging this luggage for 20 minutes towards who knows where.
* * *
It's another 10 minutes before I finally see a semblance of civilization. There seems to be a small town. A town in such a dry desolated place where the most interesting thing I saw was a still green bush.
A serious looking man eyes me from head to toe as I walk along the street. It's quiet. So quiet, empty, and bone dry. Smelling of dust, cigar smoke, and the pungent scent of alcohol. There's some more people eyeing me from the alley ways and through their windows. I feel all their eyes on me, my body extinctively tenses up in response.
As a Chicago girl, you always got to be aware of your surroundings. Especially since I grew up in the bad part.
"Young lady, come inside here," A old lady's voice calls out to me.
She's wearing a faded blue shawl, one hand placed on her bosom and the other pointing towards a side door in a alley. I hesitate before going in, but it should be better than staying outside. Right?
The inside is much cleaner than the dust covered roads outside. Although the floors and walls definitely need to be replaced. There's no way they would pass safety regulations in real life. She leads me down a hallway into what looks like a diner or bar.
I sit down and let out a sigh of relief as my sore feet finally get a rest.
"Here, have some chamomile tea."
She sets a glass of "tea" in front of me, though it looks more like murky water with a few stray leaves still floating in it.
"I apologize, our water isn't the best quality," the old lady sighs, pulling at her shawl like an English teacher.
There's a lot of things I don't know about this world. I'm not a genius. No one is. But here are a few things you should know about me.
1. I like to say that I'm very observant.
2. My intuition is pretty sharp.
3. I'm a biology major with a minor in botany. And thank goodness I chose this path because there is NO WAY I'm drinking mugwort with chamomile tea!
If you didn't know, Mugwort, in high doses can cause lower blood pressure, dizziness, and nausea. And chamomile increases the intensity of mugwort. It's also a perfect plant to be cultivated in such a dry climate.
No wonder those people were watching me. It seems they get money from human trafficking clueless travelers. And since those people sent me here, this must be a pretty well known operation.
"Ma'am..." I look into the eyes of this secret trafficker with the most innocent expression I can muster, "Thank you so much for your hospitality! I couldn't have survived out there if you didn't help me!"
I grab her hands and clasp them with mine, "You see...I-I am a poor noble girl abandoned here because of my evil step mother..." Sniffle sniffle* "I have no one left anymore." Sniffle* "I am just a lonely and scared little girl now!" I blink out a few years. The old lady trys to pull her hand away but I grip it even tighter. "You would understand, right? I'm sure you have children of your own!"
"So-could you please let me stay here for awhile? I will do anything. You own a business right? I can help with that! I am good at cooking and serving guests!"
I look at her with the biggest puppy eyes I can. "Please Ma'am, I am just as hungry as you. Do you see my sunken cheeks and bony fingers? I might've lived in a big house, but I didn't live like it. I was starved, fed the servants leftovers. I know I still lived different from you, but I have also suffered!"
I lean in, sucking in my already hollow cheeks. The old lady tries to break eye contact, but her hands are shaking.
"Please?"
"Uhh-"
"Pleeeease?"
"I need to have a conversation with my husband first, but I'll let you stay for the night," The old lady sighs with furrowed brows. "I-The tea is cold. I'll refill it for you." She takes the cup and leaves the room. Still unable to look me in the eyes.
I plop back down in my seat.
Phew*
That's the most bullshit I've ever pulled out of my ass at once. I could be a con artist.