The moment her consciousness returned, a wall of noise slammed into Rhona's senses. The oppressive silence of the forest was gone, replaced by the chaotic bustle of a crowd. People hurried past her, indifferent to the girl slumped on a weathered stone bench in a strange city.

  ?Rhona sat still for several minutes, allowing the memories of the forest to crawl back into her mind. She looked down at herself and gasped.

  ?Her clothes had been changed. She was now wearing the traditional garb of the Anex-an earthy brown vest and a coarse skirt. But one thing remained: Sev's red bandana was still tied tightly around her left arm.

  ?Someone changed me, she thought, a cold shiver running down her spine. She remembered Regawa's words-that there were no women in Cygnus. The thought was invasive and horrifying, but she forced her logic to take over. Her anti-toxin serum had failed to stop their sedative, but at least she was alive.

  ?Her eyes landed on a public telephone booth nearby. She hurried inside. The device offered three payment methods: cash, card, or bank account access. It featured a monitor, a camera, and most importantly-a fingerprint scanner.

  ?Rhona's right ring finger trembled as she approached the sensor. She had chosen this finger as her secret key. With one press and a passcode, she could access her private accounts, call her father, and demand a rescue. She could go back to being the President's daughter, back to luxury, and ensure those arrogant Cygnus knights were hunted down and destroyed.

  ?Her fingertip was millimeters from the glass when the image of Vida's blood-spattered face flashed in her mind.

  ?Rhona jerked her hand back. No. She couldn't go back. Returning to her father meant returning to a world built on lies and corrupt power. Hadn't she sworn to leave it all behind as a form of self-punishment?

  ?"Hey! Hurry up! What are you doing in there?"

  ?A loud bang on the glass door startled her. An annoyed man pointed at the line forming behind her. Rhona rushed out without a word, ignoring the grumbles of the crowd. She stepped back onto the street, aimless.

  ?What now?

  ?For the first time in her life, Rhona Dingzu had no plan. Her stomach began to cramp with hunger. She stopped in front of a sign: NORTH TERMINAL. This was the edge of North Nirwana City, where tourists met day laborers.

  ?"Life's getting harder," one man said to another at a street corner. "We have to squeeze every cent out of these foreign tourists. They have the money, but you've got to be smart about your prices."

  ?"Skill is everything, though," the other replied with a chuckle. "My carvings sell well because I know a bit about Mobat. Those tourists are fools; they don't know a thing."

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  ?Rhona glanced at the two men. They wore Anex clothing and were sipping coffee. The sharp, bitter aroma wafted toward her, making her stomach churn even more. One of them eyed her suspiciously, and she quickly looked away, quickening her pace.

  ?She didn't want cheap street coffee. But the reality that she couldn't even afford a drop of water was slowly crushing the last of her pride.

  ?A light drizzle began to fall, slicking the cobblestone streets. Rhona tried to find cover under the eaves of an old shop when she saw a middle-aged foreign tourist and his daughter looking distressed. They were surrounded by heavy, extravagant suitcases.

  ?"Yellow Village isn't far from here, sir," a porter was telling them. "But the path isn't for vehicles."

  ?"No horses? No donkeys? How can a tourist spot have no transportation?" the man asked, frustrated.

  ?"The road is rocky and narrow, with a suspension bridge. Walking is the only way," the porter replied calmly.

  ?The daughter groaned. "So we have to carry all this ourselves, Dad?"

  ?"I can help you carry your things, Miss," the porter offered. "Two ren every ten minutes."

  ?"That's outrageous!" the man exclaimed.

  ?"I guarantee safety, sir," the porter whispered. "There are 'Shadow Thieves' on the trails who love luxury goods."

  ?Terrified, the tourist agreed. But the porter looked at the mountain of luggage and hesitated. "This is too much for one man. I need a second person."

  ?"I'll do it," Rhona said, stepping forward. She knew that in this world, without her political identity, she only had her strength to sell.

  ?"You sure?" the porter asked, skeptical.

  ?"I need money and food. Isn't that reason enough?" Rhona replied flatly.

  ?With no other options, the porter agreed. The journey to Yellow Village was a physical nightmare. Rhona's feet, accustomed to designer shoes, now had to grip slippery rocks. Her arm muscles felt like they were tearing, and her back-freshly healed by Zinx-began to throb in protest.

  ?Every time the tourists stopped to rest, Rhona collapsed onto the luggage, gasping for air. The most terrifying part was the suspension bridge, swaying in the wind over a shallow ravine filled with jagged rocks.

  ?The porter was strict, reminding Rhona that she was responsible for the guests' belongings and the reputation of their trade. When they finally reached the cluster of yellow-roofed houses that made up the village, Rhona was on the verge of fainting.

  ?"I can't go any further. This is it," Rhona panted to the girl.

  ?"Oh, alright, but..." The girl checked her wallet. "I don't have much cash. Can I just transfer it? What's your account number?"

  ?Rhona froze. Giving an account number meant leaving a digital footprint for her father's spies.

  ?"Just... give me whatever you have in cash, Miss."

  ?"But that's not fair for the work you did."

  ?"It's fine," Rhona whispered, her eyes stinging. "Anything... just enough to eat."

  ?Seeing the desperation in Rhona's eyes, the girl seemed to understand. She reached into her pocket and handed over a few coins and a paper-wrapped bundle.

  ?As soon as they left, Rhona tore the paper open. Inside was a sausage sandwich sprinkled with sesame seeds.

  Forgetting every lesson in etiquette she had ever learned, she devoured it hungrily.

  ?Mid-bite, she stopped.

  ?She couldn't believe she was eating like this-hunched over on a street corner like a stray. Tears threatened to fall, but she swallowed them along with the bread. She swallowed the pain, the shame, and the reality that today, she was no longer a princess. She was a survivor.