Straw's brain was like a slow network, no service and no idea how to defend herself. The words Vinegario had thrown at her were still hanging in the air. Imposter. Not Strawlita. They circled her head and refused to settle. Her lips had answered him, her mouth had laughed, but inside there was nothing. Blank.
Honestly, she had no memories of the original Strawlita to defend herself with. No childhood scenes. No shared secrets. No habits to mimic. If he had asked her about a favorite childhood maid or a scar from falling off a horse, she would have been finished. She would have defended herself if she knew what story she had transmigrated into. If she knew the plot. The villain. The heroine. The ending. She was not even sure if she was inside an author's book.
"So, what if I happen to be the fake Strawlita Fayrouza, who happens to be from another world….." Straw said.
The words slipped out before she could stop them. A test. A joke. A shield.
