The darkness was heavy. Her head throbbed. Cold. Confusion. And then—tiny. Tiny hands, tiny arms, tiny legs.
"No… no… this isn't happening," she whispered, her voice squeaking. She staggered forward, bumping into the wall. "I… I'm… ten?!"
It took a few moments for her brain to catch up. One second she had been a university student—junior year, bright, studying late nights for exams, laughing with friends—and the next… she was here, in this tiny, unfamiliar body.
Her head spun as memories of the accident flashed briefly: the screech of brakes, the collision, the sudden darkness. Then… nothing. And now, waking up in a child's body, in an unknown, dimly lit room.
She sank to her knees. "Okay… okay, think." The adult mind inside her was still sharp, strategic, calculating—but the body… fragile, small, almost clumsy.
Instinct kicked in. She needed a system check. A cheat menu. Some invisible interface. Something. Anything.
"System… open? Options?" Her hands waved in the air, pacing the room. Nothing. Silence. She muttered, "Golden Finger? Secret cheat codes? Hello?!"
And then, a flicker—a faint, pulsing icon in her mind. Pocket Dimension…?
Her eyes widened. Could it be? She extended a hand and imagined a loaf of bread. It appeared. Coins? Appeared. Sword? Appeared. Her pulse quickened. "Okay… okay, this is real."
The thrill of discovery swept over her. Could she step inside completely? She focused, bracing her tiny feet—and suddenly, she vanished from the room, immersed entirely in the pocket dimension. The real world disappeared. She could touch objects inside, rearrange them, and even bring them back out.
"Ha! Jackpot," she whispered, bouncing slightly. "This is perfect. No one can touch me here. Ever."
A faint noise outside startled her. Footsteps. Voices. "Where is she?!"
The housekeeper. Her furious voice echoed through the walls. She cursed, stomped, and muttered angrily. "She can't just disappear…!"
Inside the pocket dimension, the girl laughed quietly. Safe. Untouchable. She could hear every word, every movement, without being seen.
She decided to test further. Coins, food, weapons, even a small toy—she placed them carefully, checking how the space reacted. Then she stepped fully inside again, teleported a few feet, and leapt back out. Each experiment confirmed it: the pocket dimension was hers. Fully. Complete control.
A small grin spread across her face. Tiny body, yes—but mind sharp, strategy ready, and now a secret weapon. She could survive, store resources, plan her next moves.
Her thoughts shifted to the baron. The charming, deceitful man who had sung songs of love to her mother—the Marquise—while secretly plotting betrayal with his mistress. Children already existed from that secret union. Her mother had trusted him completely. Her inheritance? Stolen. And she, the little girl who had once been helpless, had witnessed it all.
Her lips curled into a faint, determined smile. Tiny body, yes. But brain, strategy, and this invisible, all-powerful pocket dimension—that was power.
Outside, the housekeeper was growing frantic. "Impossible! She cannot just vanish! Who—who would do this to me?!"
The girl inside the pocket dimension giggled quietly. Let the woman rage. She could hear everything, yet remain completely invisible.
She took a deep breath. Okay… plan. Step one: fully understand this new body, its limits. Step two: explore the pocket dimension, test every ability, every storage limit, every exit. Step three: observe the house, learn every routine, every weakness. Step four: survive, train, reclaim her birthright. Step five… maybe enjoy a little poetic revenge along the way.
Her tiny body twitched as she experimented again: she could enter, exit, shrink objects, move items around. The bread, coins, and sword floated in place. This space wasn't just storage—it was her fortress, her lab, her playground.
The adult inside whispered to the frightened little girl within: I've got you. No more helplessness. Not today.
Memories surfaced. Her mother, the Marquise, bright and trusting, deceived by the baron's charm. How he sang to her, flattered her, promised devotion—while secretly plotting with his mistress. How children were already being born from the union, quietly, without her mother knowing.
And then… the murder. The sharp, terrifying clarity of the moment her mother fell, the tiny body of the girl frozen behind the sofa, watching it happen. Blood, screams, the mistress smirking. And then the forced servitude—the cruelty, the humiliation, the constant reminder that she was nothing, powerless.
The baron's children, trained in arrogance, mocked her. The servants tormented her. Every toy, every coin, every scrap of inheritance—gone. Every day was a lesson in survival and cunning, one she had now turned into data for strategy.
Her mind shifted back to the pocket dimension. She could hide, store, escape, experiment, and train. The possibilities stretched endlessly. Tiny body, yes—but mind, skill, and strategy? Unlimited.
The housekeeper's voice grew louder outside. "I will find you! Impossible! You cannot hide!" She cursed, kicked, slammed doors—but the girl inside just laughed silently, unseen and untouchable.
A thought struck her. She could start gathering resources, learn to use her powers, and plan carefully before confronting anyone. Every past cruelty, every stolen coin, every betrayal—it was now intelligence, a roadmap for survival and eventual reclaiming of her life.
Tiny body, yes. But sharp, smart, prepared, and now armed with her own secret dimension.
The first step had been taken. She had awakened, explored, tested, and survived the first shock. The game had begun—and this time, she would win.