Mnemosyne prided herself on being a self-made woman. The kind of woman who clawed her way up from nothing, wearing secondhand heels until she could buy the designer ones, working overtime until she could tell her employees to do it instead, and eating instant noodles until she could afford five-star hotel buffets just because she felt like it.
Her name was stamped on contracts, her smile appeared in glossy magazines, and her calendar was so full that her assistant had to beg her to leave at least thirty minutes a week for sleep. She had money, status, and a condo that reached so high into the sky it practically tapped the clouds on the shoulder.
And then, one otherwise ordinary day, the earth decided it had had enough of human nonsense.
The ground shook. Buildings swayed. The walls groaned like they'd been holding in a complaint for centuries. And Mnemosyne's precious condo collapsed in on itself like a house of cards.
She remembered exactly three things before darkness swallowed her whole:
1. The wine glass she had been holding shattered on the floor.
2. Her bonsai tree fell from its shelf and, in her dramatic mind, waved its tiny leaves goodbye.
3. Her last thought was: "Wait—no! I haven't enjoyed my wealth nearly enough to die yet!"
And then everything went black.
---
When her eyes snapped open again, it wasn't pearly gates or heavenly choirs that greeted her.
It was… mud.
Mud walls. Mud furniture. Mud pretending to be a bed.
She blinked, sat up—or at least attempted to—and immediately flopped back down like a fish out of water. Her head throbbed, her body ached, and something smelled like it hadn't seen soap in centuries.
"Ugh… what is this?" she croaked, rubbing her forehead. Her voice sounded strange, weaker, thinner.
Her hands shook as she lifted them in front of her face. They weren't her hands. These were bony, twiglike things that looked like a stiff wind could snap them in half. Her wrists were so thin she could probably slip her whole arm through a bracelet meant for toddlers.
Her hair—oh, heavens—her hair was a tangled mess of unwashed strands spilling over her shoulders, practically hiding her face. And the smell? Let's just say even stray dogs would hesitate to get too close.
Mnemosyne groaned dramatically. "My goodness! This body can't even handle its own weight! What a mess!"
---
She forced herself to stand, wobbling like a newborn deer on stilts, and surveyed her surroundings.
If her condo had been a palace in the sky, this… this was the opposite.
The "house" looked like a sneeze from the heavens could blow it away. The roof sagged like it was contemplating retirement. The walls were patched together with mud and sticks, as if whoever built it had run out of both time and patience. The door leaned at such an angle it might collapse if she so much as looked at it too harshly.
Furniture? Don't make her laugh. A table made of mud, a few stools that looked more like lumps than seats, and a "bed" that was literally just dirt shaped to resemble a rectangle. There was even a thin cloth thrown across the table, like the place was trying very, very hard to look civilized.
The kitchen area was an even bigger joke. No pots, no pans, not even a proper kettle. How did this body's previous owner boil water? Stare at it until it felt embarrassed enough to bubble?
Mnemosyne rubbed her temples. "I was living in a penthouse suite… and now I'm in a mud hut that's about to lose a fight with gravity. Great. Just great."
---
She sighed deeply, trying to calm herself. "Okay, Mnemosyne. Don't panic. It's just… reincarnation. Or transmigration. Or possession. Whatever. You've read enough webnovels to know how this works. Step one: accept reality. Step two: don't die. Step three: profit."
Her voice wavered a little. "But… I already miss my bonsai tree."
At that thought—her little lucky bonsai, the one she'd raised for years—something strange happened.
The air shifted. The world… twisted.
In the blink of an eye, the sagging mud hut disappeared. Mnemosyne blinked and found herself lying on soft grass, the scent of wildflowers filling her nose.
She scrambled to her feet. The headache was gone, replaced by an exhilarating clarity. All around her stretched an endless meadow, lush and vibrant, greener than anything she'd seen in either her old life or this new one.
And behind her stood a giant tree. No ordinary tree—it was massive, majestic, its branches sprawling across the sky like the arms of a benevolent giant. Its leaves shimmered faintly, like starlight had gotten tangled in them.
Mnemosyne's jaw dropped. "What in the… Did I just unlock DLC?!"
She walked toward the tree, her steps light, her chest strangely free of the ache she'd been feeling moments ago. The air here was crisp, pure, the kind of air she would've paid thousands for in a bottled luxury spa back in the city.
She laughed, throwing her arms wide. "This place is amazing! Did I just get my own… secret space?"
---
As if to answer her, the ground before her rippled—and a small patch of tilled soil appeared. Fresh, fertile, waiting.
Mnemosyne's eyes sparkled. She pointed at it, giddy. "Oh my gosh! It's exactly like those farming cheat novels! This… this is my golden finger!"
She clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear. "Ha! Who needs a penthouse when I have my very own magical farmland dimension? The old me worked like crazy just to get rich. This me? I'll work smart. I'll plant some seeds, harvest them, sell them, and bam—I'll be a legend!"
She spun in a circle, already daydreaming. "Picture it: a thriving farm, neighbors jealous of my miraculous vegetables, people lining up for my produce, and me, Mnemosyne, sitting back with a smug smile. Oh, and maybe I'll build a hot spring here too. Why not? If I'm going to reincarnate, I might as well do it in style!"
Her laughter echoed across the meadow.
Then she paused, eyes narrowing as a single, sobering thought struck her.
"…Wait. If I have a secret space, does that mean this frail body of mine is expected to farm?"
She looked down at her sticklike arms, flexed them, and immediately regretted it. The noodle-like muscles trembled pathetically. She groaned.
"This body can't even carry a bucket of water, let alone till land! Forget crops—one strong breeze and I'll be carried off like a kite!"
Mnemosyne plopped down on the grass, clutching her head. "Why couldn't I reincarnate as some noble lady with servants? Or at least a healthy farmer girl with some meat on her bones? Nooo, I had to get stuck with Fragile Fiona here."
She flopped onto her back, staring up at the starry canopy of leaves. A giggle bubbled up despite her complaints.
"Well… whatever. At least I have a secret space. That's already better than ninety percent of the tragic transmigrators out there. And I, Mnemosyne, will make history—even if I have to start with potatoes."
The giant tree rustled as though laughing with her.
And for the first time since her untimely death, Mnemosyne felt something strange in her chest. Not despair, not regret.
Hope.