Then everything clicked in her head, with devastating clarity.
She had not reincarnated in her original world, in another era or country.
This was, without a doubt, a fantasy world.
And she was trapped in it.
Under any other circumstances, that fact would have seemed incredible to her—"reincarnating in another world!"—but given the current situation, she couldn't feel happy.
It wasn't just the fact that she had reincarnated as a woman (a bit flat, admittedly, but undeniably feminine). The main reason—the one that chilled her blood far more than the change of sex—was that… she was completely naked.
Shit, shit, shit… and Why? Why? Why? were the only thoughts running through her head, looping endlessly in panic and frustration.
"Was it really that hard to reincarnate me in my own body?!" she protested to the entity that had brought her here. "Or at least with some clothes on?!"
She said that last part louder than she intended. Someone passing by the mouth of the alley must have heard her, because they turned their head in curiosity.
Reacting on instinct, Logan crouched down and hid behind a rotten wooden crate, covering her nakedness with her hands. She remained perfectly still, holding her breath, until the footsteps faded away.
Only then did she let out a heavy, trembling sigh.
I can't stay here doing nothing… I don't even want to imagine what they might do to me if someone finds me like this, she thought, a shiver of genuine terror running through her body.
In a fantasy world, a naked vagrant wasn't a curiosity; it was a victim.
She looked around desperately, scanning every corner of the filthy alley. She searched for something—anything—that she could use to cover herself.
After several long, agonizing seconds, her gaze fixed on an object.
Perfect, she murmured to herself.
It was a large piece of coarse, filthy cloth, gray with dust, hanging from one of the alley's few windows and serving as a miserable improvised awning.
It was her salvation.
She moved to shift the wooden crate she had used as a shield moments earlier, dragging it a few meters so she could reach the cloth.
But this new body—thin and utterly lacking in strength—betrayed her intentions. The crate, which she would have moved without a second thought in her previous life, felt anchored to the ground.
She had to dig her fingers into the wood, tense muscles she didn't recognize, and push with all her will, sweating with effort and frustration, until it finally moved enough.
With one last desperate tug, the cloth tore free and fell over her. Miraculously, it was the perfect size.
Logan wrapped herself in it as best she could, creating a rough, uneven tunic that covered her torso and reached halfway down her thighs. It wasn't elegant, clean, or secure, but it covered the essentials.
It was a cloth shield against the world.
Now comes the hard part…, she whispered, feeling the rough weight of the fabric against her skin.
She took a deep breath, ignoring the smell of dust and dampness.
It was time to stop hiding.
With more courage than confidence, she headed toward the exit of the alley, toward the overwhelming reality of the new world.