To be, or not to be—that is the question.
The line lingered in my mind, a famous line from an amazing work in my past life. I'd always been a bookworm, devouring manhwas, novels, and classic literature alike, escaping my crushing loneliness by losing myself in others' stories. Once, I'd craved to be someone worth loving, worth yearning for, worth fighting over. I'd failed miserably—and paid dearly for that foolish desire. To not be that person, to let that hollow wish die? I'd realized it too late, back when I was still trapped.
Now, I wandered the narrow aisle of the shop, flanked by shelves of books and vials glinting with mysterious colored liquids. Free at last, I ached to learn everything I'd been denied before. We spoke the same tongue in this world, but its writing was foreign to me. I'd never had the chance to learn to read, nor access to any real books. The closest I'd gotten were crumpled newspapers tossed aside at the manor, and no one there had ever deigned to teach me a single letter.
Every book in the shop looked ancient, bound in hard leather, smelling faintly of mold—a strange, comforting scent all its own. I reached for the one in the best condition, its spine still intact, pages not too yellowed.
"Careful lass—that's old, and costly!" the elderly clerk called out, sharp but not unkind.
"What's this book about?" I asked, turning it over in my hands.
"Can ye not read the title?" he shot back.
"I'm illiterate," I admitted, fumbling for a simple excuse. "I worked for nobles, but never got the chance to learn."
"Then why dally with books ye can't make heads or tails of?"
"I want to learn," I said firmly. "I left that life behind, and learning to read'll make finding work easier. Don't worry—I have coin."
"Whatever ye say, lass. Grab the one in the corner—children's primer for noble brats. How old are ye, anyway? Barely twelve by the look of ye. Don't be daft—go back to serving the nobles. They're cruel, aye, but they'll feed ye proper, might even teach ye a word or two if ye grovel long enough."
I laughed silently. Feed me and teach me? Not even in my wildest dreams had the Benningtons spared me such kindness.
"How much for it, old man?" I pressed. "I'll pay, and if ye teach me just a couple words right now, I'll give ye double the price. I'm fourteen—old enough to start learning."
"It's ancient stock, but I'll let it go for two gold," he said gruffly. "Keep yer extra coin. This old codger's not so desperate I need to rob a scrawny thing like ye."
Two gold—more than I'd expected. It could've paid for three weeks of inn lodging. But then, books here weren't mass-produced with machines; every one was a labor of love, a luxury. It made sense.
To my surprise, the kind old man handed me another small book—more a notebook, bound from scraps of old parchment cut to size. He'd written the characters in layered, simple strokes, and spent the next two hours teaching me to sound them out, making me repeat each one aloud until I got it right. When we finished, I pressed three gold into his palm, tucking both the primer and the notebook into my bag.
"Old Man Gray, I'll never forget this," I said, pausing at the door. "I'll come back and repay your kindness."
"Repay nothing, ye brat," he grumbled. "Don't come back and give me another headache."
I returned to the inn, packed all my belongings onto Bess, and bade Kelly farewell before setting off again. My priority now was to learn to read fast, gather more knowledge, and find a steady job. I muttered the words and letters Old Man Gray had taught me over and over, lost in practice, and didn't notice the sun had climbed to noon until my throat felt dry. I spotted a quiet spot by a river, perfect for resting, and guided Bess over.
I settled by the river to eat, when a harsh, non-human wail cut through the air—part tiger's snarl, part fierce thrash, unrecognizable and terrifying. Bess whinnied, skittish and shifting restlessly, hooves scraping the dirt. I left her tied securely, dagger gripped tight in my hand, every nerve sharpened. No training to fall back on, but midday sun blazed bright, letting me make out the lay of the land clearly: a cliff edge thick with scrub, the unearthly cries pouring from below it. I crept closer, crouching low to slip into the bushes, hiding as I strained to peer down and listen.
Laughter and taunting shouts mingled with the beast's agony.
I peeked through the branches, and my blood ran cold. Below was a creature like a massive lizard, its thick tail bound tight to a boulder with rough rope, rendering it trapped. Knights ringed the clearing, standing idle guard; a cluster of snobbish noble brats hovered near, firing fire-tipped arrows at the thrashing beast.
"Ya ya ya, I almost got it!" one boy yelled, his voice cracking with glee as he nocked another arrow.
"That's not fair—my turn!" another snapped, shoving the first aside so hard the boy stumbled into a knight's leg.
"Wait your turn, Friedrich! I was this close!" a third crowed, brandishing his bow, the wood carved with the crest of a silver stag—one I recognized from the Benningtons' estate, a sign of high nobility.
"Young masters, keep your distance!" a knight called, half-hearted at best, his eyes glazed as he leaned on his sword, clearly more interested in the wine skin hanging from his belt than the carnage unfolding before him.
I didn't know why, but my chest tightened painfully, breath catching in my throat as I watched the cruelty unfold. The beast's wail warped into a gurgling whimper, a fire-tipped arrow buried deep in its scaled flank, black smoke curling from the wound, singeing iridescent bronze underlayers caked in grime, thick emerald blood oozing to pool dark and sticky below the cliff. I hunkered low in the scrub, chest constricting with sharp, suffocating ache, tears pricking my eyes. As a stranger to this world, I knew nothing of its creatures—only that this one was suffering, trapped, dying slow for sport, its body twitching weakly as consciousness slipped, pupils fluttering shut then snapping open in fleeting agony.
I acted fast: tore a frayed rag tight over my lower face, yanked matted hair into a rough bun, pulled another scrap over my head for a ragged hood—features fully obscured, cautious, every nerve screaming. The creature's bound tail thrashed one last weak time, rope cutting ridged scales raw and bleeding, each strain yanking the boulder a hair's breadth and sending fresh agony surging through it. Crumpled, half-clipped wings twitch uselessly, faint gilded horns peeking from its blood-caked skull—odd details I registered but cannot place. Noble brats snickered, arrows finding new marks with lazy precision: one pierces its left eye, another nicks its throat, cries turning thin, ragged, a whimper echoing up the cliff like a terrified child's sob.
Knights leaned on swords, bored, passing spiced wine, no one sparing the beast a second glance, no one noticing faint steam curling from its nostrils—dampened by fading consciousness, not fury. I gritted my teeth, my grip on the dagger tightening until my knuckles whitened. This was the same cruelty I'd endured at the manor, the same indifference to suffering that had left me broken and hungry for years. I couldn't look away. I couldn't walk away.
I scanned the clearing, calculating: six knights, four noble boys, all distracted by their game. The boulder holding the beast's tail was wedged in a crack, the rope frayed at the edges—if I could hit it just right... I grabbed a sharp, palm-sized stone from the underbrush, hefting it in my hand. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands were steady. I drew back my arm and threw, aiming for the knot of the rope where it looped around the boulder.
The stone sailed through the air, hitting the knot with a sharp crack. The rope didn't break—not yet—but it shifted, the beast's tail jerking free just enough to let it twist its body, sending a flailing claw into the nearest noble boy's leg. The boy screamed, collapsing to the ground as blood seeped through his fine velvet trousers. Chaos erupted. The knights snapped to attention, drawing their swords, while the other boys scattered, yelping in fear. The beast roared—a sound of raw, furious pain—and lunged at the nearest knight, its jaws clamping down on his arm.
"Who's there?!" the captain knight barked, his eyes scanning the cliff edge, his voice booming over the commotion. "Show yourself, coward!"
I froze, my blood turning to ice. He'd heard the stone. He was looking for me. I pressed deeper into the bushes, my breathing shallow, my dagger ready. The beast's struggles grew weaker, its movements slowing as blood loss took its toll, but the damage was done—the boys were crying, the knights were panicking, and for the first time since I'd arrived in this world, I'd struck back against the cruelty that had haunted me for so long. To be, or not to be—that question echoed in my mind again, but this time, I knew the answer. I would be. I would survive. I would not let them break me. Not again.
.
.
.
To be continue...