The morning after the chaos was surprisingly calm.
Too calm.
It felt as if nothing had exploded the day before.
Yao Yao lay beneath the covers, her arms folded like a disgruntled mummy, wide eyes staring blankly at the velvet canopy overhead.
She wasn't dead.
But she was officially under palace room arrest.
A soft knock tapped against the door.
"Good morning, Young Miss. May I enter?"
Not Lily.
Of course not. Lily, Xiu Lin, even Su Mi… they were all back at the estate. She was alone here, sealed inside her velvet-trimmed prison cell.
"…Enter," she mumbled.
The door creaked open, and a palace maid stepped inside. She was young, tidy, and smelled faintly of morning jasmine.
"Good morning, Young Miss. I'm Sonia," the maid said with a small bow. "I've been assigned to attend to you during your stay."
Yao Yao sat up slowly, her hair tousled and her cheeks puffed like an irritated dumpling. "I'm not sick. I'm not dangerous. And I didn't explode the portal on purpose."
Sonia blinked, taken aback. "Of course not..."
"Oh," Yao Yao muttered, her cheeks deflating like a punctured dumpling. "... Okay..."
The maid said nothing more. She moved with quiet, practiced efficiency, helping Yao Yao dress with gentle hands.
Honestly, it was a little disappointing.
It was strange how quickly Yao Yao missed Lily's anxious chatter, Xiu Lin's braid-yanking threats, and even Nanny Fang's violent morning lectures.
Once she was dressed and seated at the table, she stared blankly at the egg and toast on her plate. She should have been hungry, but the weight of everything that had happened drained her appetite.
"Where is my brother?" she asked, her voice hollow.
"Young Miss," Sonia replied, laying a napkin beside her. "The King summoned the major houses for a closed council… to address yesterday's incident."
Yao Yao winced. "You can say it. The portal collapsed. I won't explode."
Sonia blinked, trying to suppress a small smile. She bowed again, this time with a hint of understanding in her expression. "Of course, Young Miss. Please ring the bell if you need anything."
With that, she exited the room, leaving the door to close with a quiet click, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Silence settled in again.
Yao Yao let out a long sigh.
This wasn't how things were supposed to go.
I'm a reincarnated human, she thought bitterly.
A fully grown woman trapped inside a five-year-old's body. I was supposed to be special.
There were rules to this sort of thing.
In every other story, the girl who wakes up in a magical world is destined for greatness. She gets cheat skills, overpowered powers, a mysterious spirit beast, and twelve rival princes falling at her feet. They get summoned into a palace with destiny flags attached to their foreheads.
But her?
She had to work. Sneak, lie, and scam her way just to stand before the portal.
And what did she get?
A single, pitiful energy ball. The magical equivalent of a sad balloon.
And then—boom.
Portal gone. No spirit. No contract. Just silence and a kingdom full of witnesses.
It was as if the spirit world itself had taken one look at her and said: "Nah."
For the first time, doubt crept in.
She stared hard at the toast as if it had answers.
What if I'm not the genius I thought I was?
What if I had been wrong from the start?
She had assumed—naturally, confidently, obviously—that she was a magical genius. How could she not be? From the moment she opened her eyes in this world, magic had surrounded her. She could feel it in the air, in her veins, and it responded to her emotions.
But now? Now she wasn't so sure.
Maybe she wasn't meant to be a summoner. Maybe she wasn't the next legendary spirit wielder or chosen one. Maybe she was just… magical enough to be a nuisance. She stared blankly at the food and then flopped her toast back onto the plate.
What if my purpose isn't magic at all?
What if—
Her thoughts stumbled.
What if I'm supposed to sell things?
There was a long, horrible silence in her head.
She blinked. Then blinked again.
Was that her destiny?
To become some kind of magical merchant? To bargain and barter her way through this fantasy world?
She had been good at sales in her past life. In fact, she could talk a rich man into buying a cheap pen, persuade a broken intern to splurge on an overpriced coffee machine. Once, she even convinced a miserly CEO to buy thirty gold-plated umbrellas…during a drought.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe the gods had looked at her and said, "This one? She's got good hustle. Let's give her magical pink eyes and drop her into a fantasy drama. See what happens."
Yao Yao slumped forward until her face hit the table.
"Ugh," she groaned, pressing her face deeper into the wood.
Was this a punishment? A cosmic joke? Her isekai merchant arc?
"Great," she muttered. "I died, took over a kid's body, and it was all just to start a business."
Her mind wandered back to Ying Ying's summoning. The girl was probably blessed. Like, actually blessed. She had a majestic eagle spirit, an ancient creature with the power to carry her across mountains and seas, gliding through the sky like royalty. That was the kind of thing that was clearly a divine blessing.
Yao Yao sighed dramatically.
Forget flying. Not that I even have the spirit to meet my travel needs in the first place.
Guess I'll just stick to the carriage… Or wait, what if... what if I start a magical ride-hailing business here?
There was another long pause in her head.
She blinked and blinked again.
Then, her eyes lit up, struck by a sudden realization. Her imagination ran wild, picturing herself as the owner of a magical cab service. Perhaps she could throw in a food delivery option. She might even be the pioneer of the world's first magical ride-and-delivery service.
After a brief pause, she lifted her face from the table, her gaze empty as she smiled at no one in particular and muttered, "Tired of walking? Need to get somewhere fast? Yao Yao's Magic Ride-Hailing Service has you covered!"
She let out a dry, humorless laugh, "Haha... ha..."
It should've been funny.
It was funny.
But her laugh came out thin and a little cracked.
Because somewhere deep down, beneath the sarcasm and self-pity, she wasn't sure who she was supposed to be anymore.
She looked down at her tiny hands—small, soft, unfamiliar—and whispered into the silence:
"What am I doing here…?"