Soon, her eyes drifted back to the small, cracked mirror hanging crooked on the wall.
She stepped closer. Tilted her head. Studied the face again—really studied it this time.
She raised one eyebrow at her reflection.
"Fuck me. This body is way hotter. Innocent and gentle with great curves… It is a waste not to use this to my advantage."
The words hung in the air for a second.
Then her mouth stretched into a slow, wicked smile.
Normal life? Screw that.
She straightened up, squared her shoulders, and clapped both hands together once, sharp and decisive.
"New plan," she said to the empty room, voice brimming with fresh energy. "If this is a medieval world, I need to find myself a rich, lonely nobleman, maybe some widowed one, and not the ones with many wives. As for whether he could satisfy me or not, I can always find some hot guys, maybe a knight in the same household. I mean, who can resist this body..." She let out a mischievous smile to herself, looking at the unfamiliar body. And if this is just some rural place, then... I need to get out of this place and go to a city instead, with whatever money I have left in this house, and then find some sugar daddy maybe... They'll pamper me, feed me, dress me in whatever I want, and I'll make sure they never regret a single coin."
She pointed at her reflection like they were making a pact. "You and me, pretty girl. We're about to live the dream."
The grin turned downright predatory.
"Let's go get spoiled."
Sienna tilted her head left, then right, studying every angle in the cracked mirror. A slow, satisfied grin spread across her face.
"Damn… I really am hot."
She gave her reflection a firm nod, sealing the decision.
"But first, I need the right customer. Someone rich. Someone lonely. Someone who knows quality when she sees it."
Her brows suddenly knit together.
She leaned closer to the mirror, frowning at the bruises. "By the way, why the hell am I beat up?"
She touched the tender spot on her cheek.
A dull throb answered. Nothing in this new world had gone the way the stories promised—no cheat system, no flood of memories from the original owner, no convenient explanation popping into her head. Just this body, this face, and a bunch of mystery bruises.
A smirk tugged at her lips.
"Hmph. It must be the work of some jealous woman, whose lover or husband might be entangled with this girl, or maybe it's just a crush. Since I didn't have any memories of this body, there is no way to tell at the moment. But one thing is for sure. This host is definitely not rich, just some commoner with beauty… Anyway… regardless, since I'm living in this body now, everything will go according to my will...." She snorted softly, crossing her arms. "Just wait. Once I find a powerful sugar daddy who spoils me to death, I'll come back and rub it in their faces. Hmph. Hmph."
Her stomach chose that moment to let out a loud, impatient growl.
Sienna blinked, then pressed a hand to her middle.
"Right… starving."
She turned and spotted three peach-like fruits sitting on the rickety table—pale orange skin, fuzzy, about the size of her fist. They looked ordinary enough.
"These are in my house, so they can't be poison… probably."
She picked one up, turned it over in her hand, then sank her teeth in without another thought. Tart juice burst across her tongue, sharp and crisp like a green apple but sweeter underneath. Her eyes widened for a second.
"Oh, that's good."
She devoured the first one in four big bites, core and all. Then the second. Then the third. Juice dripped down her chin; she wiped it with the back of her hand and licked her fingers clean.
It wasn't enough to fill her completely—her stomach still felt hollow—but the sharp edge of hunger had dulled. She let out a small, contented sigh and leaned back against the wall.
If she'd known those three fruits were the predecessor's entire food supply for two days, she might've savored them more. Or at least felt guilty. But right now, all she felt was a little less empty.
Knock knock.
The sound was sharp, impatient.
Sienna straightened.
Before she could even open her mouth to answer, the door exploded inward with a crack of splintering wood.
Three men stomped inside.
They were big, rough, dressed in patched leather and stained cloth. One had a jagged scar running from her left temple down to her jaw. Another carried a heavy cudgel hanging loosely from her belt. The third just looked mean, eyes narrow and restless.
Sienna stared at them for a heartbeat.
She thought, very clearly: You knocked just to kick the door down?
But she kept her mouth shut. Something told her sarcasm wasn't the move right now.
Scar-face—the obvious leader—stepped forward, boots thudding on the floorboards. She crossed thick arms over his chest and fixed Sienna with a hard stare.
"Have you decided to come with us?"
Silence.
Sienna took a slow, deep breath through her nose. She met the man's gaze without flinching. No tremble in her hands. No wide eyes. Just calm, steady golden eyes staring right back.
But inwardly, she wondered, Where? She gave another look at three of them. They seemed like guards. At the same time, their dressing attires confirmed that this is indeed some medieval world, and not a rural area in the mountains that is heavily underdeveloped or something. Her heartbeat rose in excitement.
And several things came to her head. The medieval world might make forming relations with women a problem but there won't be any issue in wooing a lonely nobleman. Maybe, after becoming his mistress, she can thoroughly enjoy those maids. But what to do with the penis? Is it just a special thing for her, or do all the women in this world have them, too?
Meanwhile, seeing a silence on Sienna, the leader's frown deepened. He flicked a glance at his two companions. They looked just as confused—eyebrows raised, mouths half-open.
Scar-face turned back to Sienna. His voice dropped, heavier now, edged with warning. "I asked you a question, girl. Have you decided to come with us?"
Sienna let the silence stretch one more second.
Then she smiled with a nod, deciding to just not overthink and go with the flow while planning according to the scenario. "Of course."
She had no idea where they planned to drag her, but the logic clicked into place quickly and cleanly.
Three big brutes like these could crush her right here in this tiny room if they wanted blood. Worse, if they humiliate her. While she enjoys sex, it doesn't mean she enjoys getting ra*ed by three men, one after another… or worse… together… She didn't know what kind of people they are or what kind of culture they have here. Hence, it's best to cooperate when the situation is not in her favor.
And moreover, judging by their strength, if they want to do something to her, they will do it. They don't need to ask her and wait for her answer with such patience. If they were taking her anywhere, it meant they had a reason… perhaps, their lord, a nobleman, is interested in her or perhaps, it is related to the beatings? Sienna thought.
She told herself it was pure, cold reasoning. Not because the leader's scarred glare made her stomach twist just a little. Definitely not that.
The scar-faced man blinked once, clearly caught off guard by her acceptance. His thick brows lifted for half a second before his face smoothed back into its usual hard lines. He gave a short nod, reached into the pouch at his belt, and pulled out a small glass bottle. Inside, a thick purple liquid swirled slowly, catching the light like oil on water.
"Drink it," she ordered, tossing the bottle underhand.
Sienna caught it one-handed. At first, she was panicked. But then, as she steeled her heart, without asking what it was… not hesitating anymore, she popped the cork with her thumb, tilted her head back, and poured the whole thing down in three big gulps.
The taste hit first—bitter, sharp, like over-steeped tea mixed with something metallic.
Then warmth bloomed in her stomach and spread outward fast, racing along her veins like hot wine. The dull throb in her bruised face faded. The ache in her ribs quieted. She touched her cheek; the swollen skin felt smooth now, unmarked. Even the faint headache she'd carried since waking up disappeared.
Her eyes widened for a second. Whatever this stuff was, it worked like magic.
So, this isn't some drug that knocks her out. It was a medicine. A potion? That means the intentions of these men were good. Sienna felt a little better, too.
But there was no time to stand around marveling. The three men were already turning toward the door. Sienna fell in behind them without a word.
They walked down the dirt path, past more simple wooden houses, then turned onto a wider road lined with low stone walls. The air grew busier—people moving carts, voices calling, the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer.
After maybe twenty minutes, the road opened up.
In front of them stood a building that looked completely out of place among the humble homes. Tall. White marble that gleamed even under the morning sun. Pillars rose along the front, carved with swirling patterns. A few lines of elegant script were etched above the wide double doors, but the letters meant nothing to Sienna. She skipped trying to puzzle them out.
The scar-faced man pushed the doors open. Cool air washed over them, carrying the faint scent of incense and polished wood. They stepped inside.