Lin Yu didn’t walk quickly.
She stood before the door holding the candelabra, her face calm but her heart racing with tension.
Just tugging the curtain earlier had triggered something strange—who knew what opening this door might unleash.
She squeezed her arm where the dagger was strapped, exhaled slowly, and placed her hand on the wooden door.
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart beat faster, her nerves tightening.
That chilling, snake-like gaze didn’t return, as if the “monster” hiding in the darkness didn’t care whether she left the room.
Lin Yu gritted her teeth, steeled herself, and pushed the door open.
A rush of cool air surged in from outside.
Without hesitation, she stepped out, shutting the door behind her.
No anomalies occurred.
Such a simple act, yet Lin Yu felt utterly drained, the pressure of unknown fear weighing on her.
What was hiding behind that curtain?
As she pondered, a faint rustling sound reached her ears, like someone cautiously rummaging through something.
The source was just beyond the door…
Thump, thump, tap—
Scritch.
Despite the door between them, the sound was crystal clear—she could even tell it was a match being struck!
An image flashed in Lin Yu’s mind: in a pitch-black room, an orange flame flickered to life, held by a woman in a light green dress.
Her scalp tingled, and she instinctively stepped back.
The candlelight flickered, dimming and brightening.
The room beyond the door fell silent, then came rapid, urgent footsteps—“she” was running toward the door!
Damn it!
The refined Lin Yu lost her composure again, turned, and ran without looking back.
This damn skirt, with its long, heavy, multi-layered hem, was such a hindrance to run in.
It was a long corridor, and Lin Yu didn’t know how far she’d run.
This body’s stamina wasn’t great—she was already gasping for breath.
She stopped, refusing to push herself further, and turned around.
Half-crouching, she lifted her skirt with one hand, ready to draw the revolver strapped to her boot at any moment.
When facing a dangerous predator, blindly running until exhaustion was the worst move.
Keeping distance and preserving strength for resistance was wiser.
She wasn’t one to submit passively.
Lin Yu stood off against the air for about five minutes, until her crouched legs began to ache and go numb.
Then she stood up.
No one followed?
Or perhaps “she” couldn’t leave that room.
Lin Yu licked her molars, her headache worsening.
Transmigrating with amnesia was bad enough, but this world also held incomprehensible entities, making her situation even more dangerous
Maybe the original owner had some special ability, but she’d forgotten how to use it?
“Ha!”
Lin Yu suddenly extended her arm, fingers spread, striking a pose at the air.
Nothing happened—well, except her face heating up.
Maybe it was a magic spell that raised the body temperature.
So embarrassing. Good thing no one saw.
Lin Yu awkwardly retracted her hand.
She’d been so focused on escaping she hadn’t observed her surroundings.
It was a long corridor, its walls made of the same dark gray stone bricks as the room, with black chandeliers hanging from the ceiling at intervals, each holding faintly burning white candles.
The candelabra in her hand had gone out during her run, saving her the trouble of blowing it out now.
Unless absolutely necessary, Lin Yu didn’t want to go back.
She’d move forward along the corridor to see if she could find another path.
After a few minutes of walking, she stopped.
Ahead was a fork, with paths to the left, right, and straight ahead.
As Lin Yu hesitated over which route to take, footsteps echoed from the right—tap, tap, tap—approaching steadily.
She instantly went on high alert, moving with cat-like steps, retreating along the wall a short distance before crouching again.
From the right corner, a tall figure emerged.
It was an adult man, wearing a black single-breasted coat over a vest and shirt, paired with matching trousers.
He looked around thirty, with deep-set features, a small mustache, and a round top hat.
Beneath the brim, his deep blue eyes shone with unconcealed surprise.
Who was he?
The question barely formed in Lin Yu’s mind before the man reacted even more dramatically, stumbling back several steps, pointing at her nose, and shouting, “..!”
An unfamiliar language pierced her ears.
Lin Yu froze for a moment, then her mind processed it, a contradictory mix of familiarity and strangeness washing over her.
“Who are you, and where is this?”
Her head throbbed—was this a deep-seated memory from the original owner, retaining responses to basic things like language?
Lin Yu endured the pain, piecing together the man’s reaction and words to assess her situation.
His first reaction was surprise, and his question was about her identity and this place.
Could he, like her, have woken up in an unfamiliar room without knowing anything?
Unlike her, though, he was probably a “local.”
“When asking someone’s identity, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”
Her intended words, processed by her brain, came out in an unfamiliar language.
Her voice was clear and sweet, her tone steady.
Judging by the sound and her skin’s condition, the original owner was likely young.
The man shut his mouth, not responding immediately, his face growing warier.
Hmph, years of online arguments—er, online socializing—had taught Lin Yu to counter questions with questions.
Enough.
She lowered her eyes, softened her tone, and shared her situation.
“I… I don’t know where this is.”
“When I woke up, I was lying in a strange room.”
After speaking, she tilted her head to one side, pursed her lips, and said no more.
Tsk, such a performance.
Her movements and tone felt so practiced, almost like muscle memory.
The original owner must have been a master of subtle gestures and expressions.
As expected, shared experiences fostered empathy.
Since Lin Yu had opened up first, the man relaxed his guard, realizing his earlier behavior might have been rude.
He placed a hand on his chest and nodded slightly.
“I apologize for my earlier rudeness, miss.”
“I hope you can forgive a flustered fool.”