Alira woke up, and that was arguably the worst thing that had happened to her.

  She could have woken up to a worried Jian and her mother, who would scold her ears off the moment she deemed Alira was fit enough for a nagging session.

  Mom would definitely take this chance to take a dig at her choice of major. Alira would groan and whine at that with her usual ‘But, Mom, Hunters are so cool!’. They would have the same conversation about why and why not being a Hunter was ‘cool’ for the thousandth time.

  Then, once it was past midnight, they could celebrate her birthday. Things would have been perfect, in some ways, since her mother would have been staying at the hospital for her shift.

  ...

  It was quiet in the carriage. Alira woke up alone.

  She was too exhausted to question anything, let alone make a second attempt at leaving this cursed world. Her body had been miraculously healed, though it didn’t surprise her. Staywes was a world of alchemy, magic, and countless other wonders—wonders capable of raising the dead and turning the living into something far worse than death.

  Her body had recovered, now in a far better stage than when she’d first arrived, but her energy was nearly gone. Her mind felt completely drained.

  She leaned against the wall of the carriage, vibrations seeping into her to worsen the headache she already had. Why in the world were they using carriages? A spatial mage or a transfer ground easily prepared by a Staywesin alchemist could send her to wherever they wanted in mere seconds.

  Alira gathered enough strength to push herself up so that she could lie down instead, careful not to press on the tail she now had. The cushion was soft at least. It smelled clean and thinly floral inside the carriage. Certainly too good for moving a slave.

  Alira felt her empty stomach twist and rumble. The silence and comfort were poisons to her tired mind. This moment of small peace also forced her guard down and melted the steel in her spine.

  Death was…something.

  She had grown out of her childhood fears of monsters, demons, spiders, and ghosts, but death still terrified her. She felt her body going limp, her thoughts slowing into something unrecognizable, before she lost consciousness completely.

  It was…scary.

  She didn’t want to do it again, but she had to. If even the protagonist could die, it was only a matter of sooner or later for her to end up dead as well. Staying a day on Staywes only meant twenty-four precious hours of her life wasted with the added risk of getting her soul corrupted to the Outers.

  Alira felt her eyes stinging. She wondered if the healer had forgotten to take care of them. Her vision blurred in a watery haze. She shut her eyes and wondered who the blue-eyed man was and where in cursed Staywes he was taking her.

  With a quiet wish that he would grant her a painless death and make up for the one he’d ripped away from her, Alira drifted off to sleep to the gentle rocking of the carriage.

  The exhaustion was gone when Alira woke up, tucked away in a box she hoped wouldn’t open again. A nap was all she needed to stop being pathetic.

  Alira sprang up, stretching her spine and rolling her shoulders. She had even recovered enough for the second and hopefully final attempt at going back home.

  A knock came on the carriage wall.

  “Hey. Hungry?” A female knight with a curious glint in her bold pink eyes lifted the curtains.

  Her unnatural eye colors only worsened Alira’s mood with the reality that she was still in Staywes. She shouldn’t have woken up.

  “No,” Alira replied.

  The female knight not so subtly inspected her up and down. “Don’t be shy. We have some bread.”

  Alira felt her mouth watering as the female knight held up a paper bag.

  “I’m not,” Alira said. “I can go for days without food and not feel hungry.”

  Seeing the female knight looking unconvinced, she pointed her ears. “I’m a hybrid, which I’m sure you can tell. So it seems you don’t know much about us. Curious?” she asked with a sneer. “Is that why you guys were betting on who should check on me? You even celebrated winning against your colleague...”

  In her half-sleep, she’d heard muffled voices. Their noisiness wasn’t enough of a reason for her grumpiness. Alira was hungry, and when her stomach flared again, she wanted to kick herself for still being in the mood for bullshit.

  She should have just quietly taken the damned bread.

  “Sorry…” the female knight said, removing herself from Alira’s view.

  Alira’s heart ached as the bread was taken away from her. Dammit. Why did she say that? Her stomach was growling—

  Huh?

  It wasn’t anymore. Alira pressed her stomach. The ball of heat from hunger was gone. She thought for a moment and quietly recited in Ancient Tongue the same way she’d read the characters did in the novel, only with less devotion and reverence. After all, this was just a fancy way of calling for character status.

  [This Soul of Staywes asks for Judgement.]

  Staywes’s Common Tongue came naturally to her, but speaking in Ancient Tongue took some effort to pronounce each word. And this was one of the few phrases she knew in the language from the novel.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Evidently, her clumsy attempt wasn’t all too bad as a silver scroll materialized, unfolding before her eyes.

  ※

  Character Name [Alira Vane]

  Will Favorability [Upper Gold]

  Mana Affinity [Lower Bronze]

  Soul Quality [Upper Silver]

  Soul Corruption [1%]

  Alchemist Ranking [0]

  Alchemic Casts []

  Mage Ranking [0]

  Elements []

  Artifact Bound []

  Role

  Unreliable Narrator (Unique)

  You are the final wall of Staywes, the Filter of all its tales. Your lies are their Truth.

  Role Aspects: [???], [Narrator’s Influence], [Narrate], [Curtains down], [Mirror]

  ※

  “Hhm.”

  Alira glossed over the first half to take a look at her Role description. She lied just now. Was it the Role working? Because she certainly wasn’t hungry anymore. Did her lie actually become true or was she being gaslighted by herself?

  She had a small realization about why the Goddess might have chosen her. This was a total mindscrew of a setup—and her mind was already plenty screwed.

  Well, either way, Alira wasn’t tortured by hunger anymore, and she had no complaint regarding that.

  Soon, the carriage fell into a rhythm of stopping, shouting for the gates to open, and then moving again. It happened so many times that Alira began to suspect they were taking her to Staywes’s most secure place—or something close to it.

  Finally, she couldn’t stay nonchalant anymore.

  Alira pushed the curtain aside and poked her head out into the crisp evening wind. The air outside was moist and clean, likely washed by a sudden rain that could have been the reason for her sound sleep.

  “Is that a freaking palace?”

  “H-Hey! Don’t stick your head out of the carriage!” One of the knights following her on horse shouted.

  Alira ignored him. Since she was getting escorted by a small group of knights, likely at the order of the blue-eyed man, she knew she wasn’t here just as a slave. There were some greater purposes that required being, or acting, nice to her.

  Who even was the guy? None of the main leads in the novel matched his appearance.

  Instead, Alira turned her head upward to take in the full view of a black iron gate through which she could see the structure of a palace. The palace was, in fact, still a good distance away from the gate, past a blooming garden, but the distance could do little to diminish its grandness.

  The main palace was a tall rectangular block with two long courtyards pierced on the sides. Imposing facades, high towers, and complete symmetry. This was a nobleman’s house if she had ever seen one.

  A knight approached, horse’s hooves stepping toward her.

  “Kid, go back inside. We’re moving,” the older knight said, his voice rough from age and lack of emotion.

  Alira looked him up and down, considering whether she had something to gain from acting up. She finally decided it wasn’t worth it and retreated back inside. The carriage came to a stop for the final time about ten minutes later.

  She was just about to open the door when a knight scuffled to open it for her, extending a hand to escort her down. Alira almost gave her hand out instinctively when she faltered, noticing the thin patch of fur on the back of her hand that was as dark as her hair.

  It caught her off guard, reminding her that she was, in fact, not in her own body. Alira directly jumped off the carriage and landed before an older woman and a younger girl beside her.

  “Welcome, miss. May the Setting Sun grant you rest. We’ve been expecting you. I’m Manon, the head of staff. His Grace instructed that I see to your arrival,” the older woman said.

  She wore a smile that looked like she was trying not to look too friendly. Alira didn’t miss the masked eagerness in her voice either. His Grace. She had her guesses about the situation. One was that a noble was planning to keep her as their pet.

  Slavery was illegal in most of Staywes. So was hybridity, yet the number of hybrids wasn’t dwindling. In the novel, there were multiple distasteful exhibits of rich nobles keeping hybrids hidden in their palaces as pets.

  She had more doubts than ever whether she actually read Dual Point of View, or the Goddess implemented memory that made her think she did. This wasn’t the kind of novel she’d normally read, preferring feel-good stories over grimy ones.

  But the woman didn’t look like someone who was greeting her master’s pet-to-be. She called Alira ‘miss’ too.

  The woman’s gaze lowered slightly, her lips turning downwards when she saw that Alira was barefoot. She shot a glare at the knights behind Alira. Whatever complaints she wanted to make, she didn’t voice them. Instead, she quietly said, “Please, follow me.”

  Just when Alira was about to leave, hurried footsteps came from behind. It was the female knight from before.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about that earlier,” she said. “We all are.”

  Alira turned to see four knights with sorry smiles beside the older knight.

  Ugh. Don’t just apologize.

  Alira left them behind without a word.

  She was led through a large hall where red carpets, soft touch of heaven beneath her feet, fully covered the floor. The ceiling was a lower sky where golden chandeliers suspended like clusters of stars.

  As she half-pretended to marvel at the surroundings, Alira pondered over another matter that caught her attention—Setting Sun.

  Being one of Staywes’s four major Divinities, worshiped by one of the four Orthodox Churches, it would be strange if Alira remained clueless about Them. Setting Sun was most widely followed by people of the West, meaning she was most likely on the Western Continent, where Raine was.

  She had a bad feeling about this.

  Alira also noted paintings on the walls that were all half-covered beneath red curtains. From the clothes on the uncovered half, they seemed to be of the same three people. A man, a woman, and another man with a leaner build. Likely the masters and mistress of this place.

  After what felt like the tenth turn around the corner, Alira arrived at a wing of the palace. The three of them stood before a room when the woman turned to her.

  “His Grace has instructed that you’re to get cleaned up and rest for the day. He will call for you later tomorrow. This is Maria; she’ll help you with your bath, if that’s all right.”

  The girl gave a brief nod in greeting.

  “No, thanks,” Alira said. She didn’t spare the girl a glance, nor did she meet the woman’s eyes. “I’d like to be alone.”

  She’d seen some peeking eyes at the corners. Everyone who happened to be in her path would give a polite nod and a careful glance before moving out of the way. From how the servants and everyone here were treating her, Alira knew trying to get them to kill her would be just a waste of time.

  She could also feel the enthusiasm radiating from both the woman and the girl the entire time, but she made no move to return it. There was no reason to. In fact, she had all the reasons not to.

  Every interaction she let herself have with the people here might waver her resolve. Alira knew she shouldn’t prolong her stay any further.

  “I understand,” the woman said.

  She turned and pushed the door before either of them could. When she was about to close it, Alira made a grave mistake of looking at their faces.

  The two looked alike–same light brown hair, same dark brown eyes. Mother and daughter, probably. The girl didn’t look older than thirteen; thin, small, but there was something to her that made her appear bigger than she was. Maybe it was the way she carried herself and the bright look she wore like life was a blessing.

  They both flashed an identical smile at her. They smiled. Something too soft to be just professional smiles of servants doing their jobs.

  Alira’s chest tightened. The soft light in their eyes felt more uncomfortable than the dirty frock sticking to her skin. Smiles shouldn’t be given away for free to anyone. Especially to a selfish, selfish soul like her.

  Ignorance sure was a blessing. These people had no idea. No clue that she was planning to abandon them, that she’d let this whole world burn if it meant getting home. They wouldn’t even know that when the time came and their prayers were ignored, she would be back to her usual life, living it to the fullest.

  With a sincere wish that Lady Goddess had a backup world-saving plan that didn’t involve her, Alira slammed the door on them.

  CMOS during my editing, which is the standard for fictions.

  > Chicago adds an apostrophe and an s to form the possessive of most singular nouns, including singular nouns that end in s—a rule that extends to proper names. Plural nouns, including plural names, add an apostrophe only.

  George Wilkens: George Wilkens’s house [singular possessive]; the house where the Wilkens family lives; the Wilkenses’ house [plural possessive; Wilkenses is the plural of Wilkens]

  Thus, I use Staywes's.