So, this was what it felt like to fall from the clouds into the mire.
Elara lay limp on the musty straw heap, her body trembling intermittently from prolonged cold and hunger. But colder than her body was her heart.
A crushing sense of powerlessness, like the heaviest shackles, pinned her firmly to this desperate reality. Who was she? The once-radiant Lan, ultimately pushed into an icy river by those she loved and trusted most? Or the current Elara, trapped in a filthy attic, her fate not her own, her life as insignificant as grass?
Neither, or perhaps… both.
Grief, anger, resentment, and an utter mockery of this damnable fate… emotions spread like venom through her limbs. Tears slipped unbidden from her eyes, hitting her equally cold skin with an icy touch. But this wasn't the weeping of weakness; it was the silent release of the combined pain and unwillingness of two souls.
"Why… why me…"
She whimpered lowly in the darkness, like a wounded, lone wolf.
On what grounds could that bastard Lucian and that bitch Samantha live comfortably, enjoying everything they had gained through her blood and life?! On what grounds was she forced into this sunless medieval era, bearing the identity of a serf, destined to die humbly like an insect?!
No! She refused to accept it!
Thinking of those two faces, cold yet relieved as she died, thinking of them possibly celebrating the removal of an "obstacle" right now, an even more violent, more intense surge of "unwillingness" erupted like magma from the deepest part of her heart, instantly scorching away those fragile emotions of self-pity!
What was there to fear for someone who had already died once?!
She, Lan—no, she was Elara now—fiercely wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, the motion so rough it almost tore the already fragile skin.
She would survive!
Even if she had to live like a rat in the gutter, like a weed in a stone crevice, she would survive!
She forced herself to calm down, just as she had countless times when facing crises in the business world of her past life. She began to rapidly, rationally analyze her current situation and… her sole "inheritance."
Wealth? Status? Beauty? A healthy body?
None of it! She had nothing now, even basic personal freedom was an extravagant hope.
No, wait… she still had something!
She possessed the soul of a 21st-century adult! She had lived through the information age, possessed fundamental logical thinking skills, knew how to observe, analyze, and judge! She understood basic hygiene principles, knew some simple knowledge that might be useful in this era (though most modern scientific knowledge was useless here)! She had a deeper understanding of human complexity and darkness—Lucian and Samantha had taught her that in the cruelest way possible!
And most importantly… she had this heart, tempered incredibly hard by death, hatred, and unwillingness! And the wildly growing willpower to survive, no matter what!
These were her only weapons in this goddamn world!
Elara's breathing gradually steadied, her gaze shifting from the previous emptiness and despair to become like stars on a cold night, sharp and piercing. She began to rapidly formulate a plan in her mind—
First, survive!
Escape: This attic was a temporary prison; she had to find a way out. Wait passively to be let out, or actively seek an opportunity? Observation was needed.Basic Needs: Food and water were the immediate priority. Regain strength, improve this incredibly weak body's condition, otherwise, a simple cold could kill her again.Safety: Find a relatively safe place (even if temporary) to shelter, avoiding constant peril.
Second, understand this world!
Gather information! About the Kingdom of Ostern, about the barony she was in, about its laws (if any), rules, power structures, customs, religious beliefs... Know yourself and know your enemy (or environment) to find a crack to survive in. (This was the immediate next step).
Third, hide herself!
Until she had the ability to protect herself, she absolutely could not reveal her thinking and knowledge that were out of sync with this era. She had to play the role of "Elara"—a silent, submissive serf girl, perhaps a bit "lucky," but never "abnormal."
As for revenge… A glint of icy fire flashed in Elara's eyes. That goal was too distant, but it would remain like a poisonous thorn embedded in her heart, reminding her why she struggled to survive, reminding her never to give up!
With a clear direction, Elara felt some of the icy despair dissipate, replaced by an almost ruthless determination.
She no longer lay limp.
She began to move.
First, very slowly, conserving as much energy as possible, she moved her stiff limbs, testing the limits of this body. Then, she pulled the coarse burlap blanket tighter, warding off the encroaching chill. Next, she strained her ears, carefully distinguishing the sounds filtering through the door and wall cracks, trying to catch any useful information. Finally, her gaze, like that of the most vigilant hunter, began to meticulously scan every inch of the attic imprisoning her—searching for any potential tool, any overlooked exit, any… opportunity that would allow her to take the first step towards survival.
Her eyes, in the dim light, flickered with the unsettling gleam of a lurking beast.
From the ashes, a spark had been ignited.