Leona opened her eyes in pain and found that she was wearing a different set of clothes—a shirt, a vest, and stockings.
The craftsmanship and fabric were both rough. Some parts were even unraveling, with crooked stitches, emitting a strange body odor.
Leona opened her eyes in pain and found that she was wearing a different set of clothes—a shirt, a vest, and stockings.
The craftsmanship and fabric were both rough.
Some parts were even unraveling, with crooked stitches, emitting a strange body odor.
Where was she?
Who had changed her clothes?
Instinctively, Leona tried to sit up and lift her clothes to look at her abdomen. There were no wounds.
Rolling up her sleeves, there were no needle marks on her arms either.
Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, suddenly, a thunderous "bang" came from outside.
Immediately followed by a string of malicious snickers.
"This kid's bones are really tough. He was tied to the horse's back and dragged for so long, but he didn't utter a sound..."
"If we shoot between his legs, let's see if his bones are still tough!"
Another burst of laughter erupted.
"That won't do," someone said, "If we paralyze him, the manager will kill us. He's the cash cow of the circus.
"Cash cow? Him? A kid who hasn't even fully grown yet?"
"He's really capable," that person laughed. He turned his head and shouted like coaxing a dog: "Eric, show everyone your ventriloquism, your singing, those trickery..."
It was unclear what the one called "Eric" said, but the laughter outside suddenly stopped.
Everyone fell silent. For a moment, only the sound of horses' hooves pacing remained.
Someone sneered and shouted "Giddy up!", speeding up the horse's pace.
No one spoke again.
A chill ran through Leona's heart—if she remembered correctly, that "Eric" was still being dragged behind the horse.
What scared her more was that everyone outside was speaking English.
Although she lived in Los Angeles, the accent of those people clearly wasn't from the West Coast. It sounded more like... French?
Had she been kidnapped by the French?
Or...
Leona tightly closed her eyes and lowered her head.
When she saw the palm of her hand clearly, her brain went completely blank. Her occipital bone tightened, and her heart pounded wildly.
This was not her hand.
She had mild mysophobia. Her nails were always clean, neat, and rosy.
However, this hand was rough and red, the joints swollen as if frostbitten, with dirt wedged between the fingers, and several brownish calluses on the palm.
What do people see the most every day?
Not their faces, but their own hands.
Leona had never thought that one day when she woke up, she would see another person's hand on her own body.
...This was just a scene from a horror movie.
What on earth was going on?
"...Hey, Leona, Leona, look at me!
A voice exploded in her ears like thunder.
Leona tensed up and suddenly raised her head.
Somehow, a little boy squeezed in front of her, looking at her with a pair of big eyes.
He seemed malnourished, sallow-faced, wearing a crumpled flat-topped hat on his head, and his face was covered with red freckles.
"What are you daydreaming about here!" said the little boy, "Something big has happened. Do you know? Eric stole Mike's gold pocket watch!"
Leona said hoarsely, "Eric?"
"Yes! Mike was furious. He tied Eric's feet to the saddle and dragged him for hundreds of meters... When the manager found out, Eric's leg was already swollen like a bun, and his back was almost rotten. There was minced meat all over the ground... Serves him right," the little boy spat disdainfully, "Always trying to steal the limelight from us!"
All over the ground was minced meat... Just thinking about it made Leona's back ache, but the little boy didn't care at all, as if he wasn't talking about a living person, but a mouse caught in a mousetrap.
"In my opinion, he shouldn't have gotten off so easily... That gold pocket watch is so expensive. Mike should have called the police and sent him straight to the gallows..."
Leona thought to herself, could they even call the police in this godforsaken place?
Wait, the gallows?
Suddenly, the little boy squeezed in closer, signaling her to lower the curtain of the tent, leaving only a narrow gap to peek out.
"Shh, shh..." His face flushed red with excitement as he whispered in a low voice, "The manager is coming!"
Leona looked up and immediately spotted Eric.
He was very thin and badly injured, lying motionless on a stretcher.
His shirt was soaked with blood and turned black, like a greedy shadow that would devour him at any moment.
A thick stench spread out, drilling straight into her nostrils.
At first, Leona thought she had nosebleed, and instinctively tilted her head back. It was several seconds later that she realized it was the pungent smell of blood.
Sparks flashed, and a man struck a match and lit the cigar in his mouth, walking up to Eric.
In the dim evening light, Leona couldn't make out the man's specific appearance. She only saw that he was wearing a suit, with a watch chain hanging on his vest, and a diamond ring on his thumb, probably the "manager" mentioned by the little boy.
"My dear Mike," the man said slowly, "May I ask why you treated him like this?"
Only then did Leona notice that there was also a blond boy standing beside him. He was fat and sturdy, with a glowing complexion.
The blond boy immediately shouted loudly, "He stole my watch!"
"No, no, Mike," the man shook his head, "You misunderstood what I meant. What I mean is - why do you think you have the right to beat him up like this?"
Hearing this, Mike was taken aback.
He hadn't expected the man to speak up for Eric. He became anxious: "Uncle, he stole my mom's gold pocket watch..."
The man took a puff of his cigar and made a gesture for him to shut up: "You are my beloved nephew, so I usually turn a blind eye to your squabbles. But this time, you've gone too far."
"Eric can do magic, ventriloquism, and singing," the man looked at Eric on the stretcher with a pitying look, as if he were looking at a useless dog, "As long as I give the order, he can even crawl through a hoop of fire - what about you? You just waste my food and can't earn half of Eric's performance fee."
Mike's face flushed red and purple: "But, but he stole my gold pocket watch... Uncle! He stole my watch! Gold!"
The man asked, "Did you see him steal it?"
Mike: "No, but -"
"You found evidence that he stole it?"
"No, but besides him, who else -"
The man's tone suddenly became very cold: "Since he wasn't caught, then he's innocent."
Mike said incredulously, "Uncle, how could you..."
"What about it?" The man sneered, "My sister is a good pickpocket. She can quietly empty the mistress's bedroom, and you... Even your own watch was stolen and you didn't notice, and you almost beat my cash cow to death."
The man bent down and glanced at Eric: "And in such an indecent position," he said coldly, "Now Eric's leg is broken, and his back is injured - during this period, who will perform magic tricks, you?"
Mike felt as if he had been slapped several times. His face was flushed red, and he couldn't speak for a long time.
After all, they were uncle and nephew. After scolding a few words, the man waved his hand and told Mike to get lost.
Leona savored the conversation between the two carefully and felt goosebumps all over.
Is there any law in this place?
Mike looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, but the man casually told him that his mother was a pickpocket.
He committed such a serious crime... brawling, dragging someone behind a horse, almost killing another child, yet the man only mildly criticized him.
Coupled with various strange details: the gold pocket watch, the gallows, the cigar, the match, and the completely unfamiliar palm.
... She was almost certain that she was no longer in the modern era.
Leona took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She continued to listen.
She had to hear more useful details to figure out her current situation.
The man finished his cigar and gently kicked Eric on the stretcher: "...Can you still talk?"
There was no response.
The man didn't mind and continued speaking to himself: "I know both you and Mike want me to give a fair judgment. Unfortunately, I'm neither a judge nor a policeman. I don't care who stole the item. All I want is money."
"Mike's mom gave me five thousand francs to take care of this kid..." The man laughed, "If you can earn five thousand francs for me, even if you kill Mike, I won't say a word, understand?"
Still no response.
Eric remained silent, motionless, as if he had died on the stretcher.
Leona felt a chill all over her body, and her heart sank sharply - the man was clearly implying to Eric that as long as he earned enough money, he could kill Mike.
He was encouraging the two teenagers to kill each other.
What kind of place was this?
Or rather, which era was this?
Leona felt a bit short of breath.
After a while, she realized that the reason she was having difficulty breathing wasn't because she was too panicked, but because her chest was tied too tightly.
The little boy was still sighing intently and didn't notice her abnormality.
Leona quietly turned around, reached into her shirt, and felt a piece of binding cloth.
Binding cloth?
Why was she binding her chest?
Leona's head was in a mess.
The current situation was already troublesome enough, and this piece of binding cloth made things even more confusing.
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the thumping sound of her heartbeat, and continued to grope inside. Her fingers touched a round object.
She took it out and saw that it was a gold pocket watch.
Eric hadn't lied.
He really didn't steal Mike's gold pocket watch.
It was her who stole it.