Who Am I?

If I can recall how much time has passed, it has been about an Earth month since I have reincarnated.

It's not accurate since I've been self-tallying and slaves of this world do not know how to read or write. Spoiler Alert: I can't do both, although I can still write in Hiragana, Katakana and Kanji. Don't think that would help me here though.

Oh? You're wondering how I can understand everyone else and speak their language? Memories. Xue's memories at that. Very convenient but hard to speak properly since she decided to mentally block herself because others made her feel inferior because of the race she is.

And she would be right to feel inferior, Ermines are not at all big. Yet, she would stand to be the biggest Ermine known to man because there are other Ermine Demihumans here and I tower over them.

Although I should be enraged why I was reincarnated here, I shall not. I will thank the Gods that I was not forgotten forever and continue what life they have given me.

.

As I sit there, trying to catch my breath, I feel a presence nearby. 

The air seemed to shift as she approached, the faint scent of lavender mixing with the cold stone. Her footsteps were silent, yet each one seemed to echo in my chest. Even without sight, her gaze cut through me like a blade, stripping me bare.

"You don't belong here," she murmured, her head tilting slightly as if examining an unseen thread.

"There are threads," she said, almost to herself, "that bind us to fate. Yours are frayed, yes, but not broken. That makes you... interesting." Her lips quirked into a faint smile, though it held no warmth. 

"Be careful, child. Interesting things often cause trouble."

I freeze, unsure of what to say. The way she's looking—or sensing—me feels invasive, like she's peeling away layers I didn't know existed. It's as though she recognizes something familiar but also foreign, and I wonder if my presence is throwing a red flag. Her blindfold-covered eyes seem unnecessary; she sees deeper than anyone with sight could.

Before I can respond, she turns and walks away, her footsteps silent against the cobblestones. I watch her go, a mixture of confusion and unease churning in my chest.

Who is she? And what did she mean by that?

As the weight of her presence fades, I realize the break is ending. Around me, slaves rise to their feet with mechanical precision, the sound of chains rattling faintly in the air. Quiet murmurs ripple through the group as a few cast sidelong glances in my direction. Their whispers reach my ears, sharp and venomous.

"The Mistress is playing favorites again," a bird-like demi mutters, her beak clicking in irritation.

"She's going to get herself in trouble," another grumbles, his fox ears twitching with frustration. "We should tell the Master. Let him handle it."

A few—like old man fox—watched with a quiet intensity, their expressions unreadable.

"Or we'll all pay for her indulgence," someone else hisses under their breath.

I feel their resentment prickling at my skin, their whispers laced with distrust and envy. I glance down at my trembling hands, my fingers curling into fists.

The estate looms ahead, its dark silhouette promising both answers and danger. With a deep breath, I push myself to stand and take the first step forward, determination igniting a faint spark within me. Whatever lies ahead, I'll face it—not as Xuê, but as the person I've become.

Yuki. Xuê. Both and neither. But always moving forward.

The heavy doors creak open, revealing the interior of the estate. The air inside is cooler, heavy with the scent of old stone and damp wood. The faint glow of lanterns lines the hallways, casting flickering shadows that seem to dance and shift with every step. Slaves move through the corridors in a silent procession, their chains rattling softly as they carry out their duties.

I'm herded along with a group toward what looks like a central workroom. Overseers bark orders, their voices echoing in the high-ceilinged space. Tables are strewn with tools, supplies, and half-finished goods. The hum of activity fills the room, but beneath it, I can feel an undercurrent of unease—a tension that seems to seep into the very walls.

"Meerkat," an overseer growls, pointing a whip in my direction. His voice is rough, with an edge that promises no patience. "You'll be sorting."

Sorting? My confusion must show because he narrows his eyes and steps closer.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he snaps, gesturing to a pile of mismatched items dumped onto a nearby table. "Separate the usable from the scrap. If I catch you slacking, you'll regret it."

I nod quickly and shuffle over to the table. The pile is a mess—rusted tools, torn fabrics, bits of broken pottery. My hands work mechanically, but my mind races. The memories from Xuê's past whisper faintly in the back of my mind, offering vague hints about the estate's layout and routines. If I'm going to survive here, I need to learn fast.

As I work, snippets of conversation drift through the room. Most of it is mundane—complaints about the workload, hushed warnings about overseers—but one exchange catches my attention.

"Did you hear about the Mistress's new 'project'?" a voice murmurs, barely audible over the clatter of tools.

"Another one?" someone replies, their tone laced with disbelief. "She's been poking her nose where it doesn't belong. The Master won't let it slide much longer."

My hands falter for a moment, and my ears perk up, trying to locate the source of the voices. But the speakers are hidden among the crowd, their words swallowed by the noise of the workroom.

I find a rusty blade within the pile, its edge dulled by time and neglect. The hilt is wrapped in fraying leather, stained dark from years of use. My fingers hover over it for a moment, Xuê's memories stirring faintly. This blade—it isn't special, but it feels significant somehow. Perhaps because it represents something I've lost.

I pick it up, feeling the uneven weight in my hand. My grip adjusts instinctively, and for a brief moment, a flicker of familiarity washes over me. This blade wouldn't last long in a real fight, but in this world, even a tool like this could mean the difference between survival and submission.

"Meerkat!" the overseer's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I flinch, my ears twitching involuntarily at the sharp tone. My gaze jerks upward to meet his glare, a scowl etched deep into his face. He notices my reaction and his grip tightens on the handle of the whip coiled at his hip.

"Don't make me use this," he growls, stepping closer. "Get back to work before I show you how we deal with daydreamers."

I nod quickly, sliding the blade under a pile of scraps to hide it. My heart pounds as I return to sorting, the dull ache in my muscles fading into the background. The blade is a reminder—a fragment of something greater. For now, I'll keep it hidden, but I know I'll need it soon.

A sudden commotion snaps me out of my thoughts. A young, rabbit-eared boy fumbles with his load, a bundle of tools slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor. The room falls silent. All eyes turn to him, dread written on every face.

"Idiot!" an overseer snarls. His hands glow faintly, the earth beneath his feet trembling. With a flick of his wrist, a chunk of stone rises from the ground, forming into a jagged boulder. "Let's see if this helps you learn!"

The boulder hurtles through the air, fast and deadly.

Something stirred within me as the boulder hurtled closer—a fragment of a memory, Xuê's voice whispering of a speed she never achieved, a strength she only dreamed of. But this wasn't Xuê. This was me.

Instinct takes over before I can think. My hand shoots out, grabbing the rusty knife hidden beneath the scraps. My feet move on their own, the world around me blurring. One moment, I'm by the sorting table; the next, I'm standing between the boy and the boulder. 

A rusty knife against a boulder. Sure, that's fair. 

My body moved, like stepping into a kata—precise, deliberate, unstoppable.

With a single motion, the blade arcs through the air. The boulder splintered, then shattered into pieces. The fragments falling harmlessly to the ground. Time seems to freeze as I process what I've done. The knife crumbled in my hand like ash, its brittle edge unable to withstand the force.

I drop the remnants and quickly crouch back by the pile of scraps, resuming my sorting as if nothing happened. My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing uneven. What just happened? The speed, the precision—it was impossible. Ermines aren't that fast. I glance down at my trembling hands, my mind racing. Am I... really just Ermine?

The overseer's gaze snaps to me, his face twisting in fury. "Where's my boulder?!" he roars. His eyes narrow as they land on me, his suspicion flaring. "And how did you get over here so fast, meerkat?!"

I don't respond, keeping my head down, but it only angers him further. 

"Think you can make a fool out of me?!" he snarls. The crack of his whip slices through the air, and pain explodes across my back. I bite down a cry, forcing myself to remain still. 

"Maybe a few lashes will teach you some respect!" 

Each strike burned, but I bit down the cry threatening to escape. Pain was temporary—this place, this moment, was temporary. If Xuê endured worse, then so could I. 

As the overseer stormed off, my shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion. The pain lingered, each lash a brand across my back. But I was still standing. Still breathing.

If I'm going to survive here, I'll have to endure this on my own.