"So, it's happening again." That was my first thought upon waking up. The intrusive smell of meat and blood, both fresh and dry, assaulted my senses as I opened my eyes again. It was so real that my reaction wasn't anxious or panicked, just the silent assimilation of familiar memories I'd never forget.
Staring at the familiar cave with air rushing in, bringing a hollow whistling sound, I guessed it was midnight. My limbs felt heavy, my back pressed against the rough straw beneath me. Morning light leaked into the cave through narrow cracks, painting the stone walls in faint streaks of gold and highlighting the engravings along the walls. Dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed only when I sat up. My fur blanket slipped down my shoulders, brushing against my bare skin.
A deep, tired sigh left my lips. I couldn't seem to find a suitable word to express my distress. I ran my fingers through my hair, now tangled from sleep, and began rebraiding it loosely , habit or maybe routine from my first life. One of the few things that stayed with me through death and rebirth.
My reflection in the small basin of water nearby was faint but enough to remind me that I still wore this face, hers. The original Aria. And I figured, as time goes on, I might not even be able to picture my original face. Maybe , nobody knows.
I tightened the end of the braid loosely and stood, brushing off the bits of straw clinging to my legs. My cave wasn't large, but it was mine. A few pelts lined the floor, a stone hearth lay cold in the corner, and a bundle of herbs and different wild game meat hung from the ceiling to dry.
Outside, dawn had barely broken. The air carried a damp chill, sharp enough to make my nose twitch. I stepped toward the entrance and squinted into the faint light spreading over the valley. Somewhere beyond the mist, the beasts were already awake, their growls echoing faintly across the cliffs.
The gods must have a cruel sense of humor, dropping me into the same world that already chewed me up once. But it's okay. Once bitten, twice shy. Three times a fool. But after being a fool long enough, you learn.
Another version I remember from my first life, the modern world, goes: fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Deceive me once, and that's on you, but never again. Who would've thought the fool would be me, Aria? It's a popular saying, but everyone goes on with their life without thinking much about the phrase. I've been walking in the dark for a long time, thinking I was walking in light. And when it got dark and difficult during the journey, I thought I had people to rely on.
If by now I still haven't wisened up and realized that humans are unreliable, led by a collar around their neck called emotion, then I'm a big-time fool. Everyone makes mistakes, I know, and no one is perfect, this I also know. But no one is as lucky and unlucky at the same time as me , a lucky fool with tons of bad luck.
Waking up now makes me linger more and think about my first life, the modern world. I had worked and strived to stand at the top, and even at the top, there's always another top. At some point, I started wondering when I would stop running. I built my empire from scratch. People say the privilege has the resources , opportunity and connections, but they're wrong. For someone considered ill-omened and a stain on the family, I had to grovel, be smart, and project different personalities to get what I wanted.
And when I reached my goal, I felt relieved that all those people who had scorned and mocked me were now at my feet. The 360-degree change in their attitude of people who now depended on me, my blood, sweat, tears, and snot all mixed together just to survive and live, made me satisfied and also kept me running to maintain my position at the top, widening the distance between myself and competitors.
But it turns out that humans and life itself are unpredictable, and sometimes life is just not fair. There's no one to complain to, and in the end, our breath halts and the running stops. It was quite a shock to die at the hands of a fellow competitor in business, but what's done is done.
If my first life was unfortunate and pitiful, my second life was foolish and prideful, a downfall from grace to grass. When I first woke up here, I thought, "Oh, this world is backward." And like a moth drawn to fire, I was everywhere. People probably saw me as prideful and annoyingly forward, and I guess I was. I let my guard down and trusted people. Fell in love with sweet words and affection. I was love-brained, comparing my modern world to this one, thinking a man would never do this or that, and how women here were lucky.
Like what? I had been starved of affection for so long that a little attention and sweet words satisfied me and made me happy. I went as far as trying to make people live better lives. All my knowledge and ideas were put to use. I wasn't just sharing information, I was active in helping. I thought that made me seem lovable, better than the lazy and 'dirty women' of the beast world, forgetting that all humans are driven by the same thing called Emotion.
And now, waking up and finding myself in this hollow cave with hay, straw mats, and the familiar smell of herbs, blood, and meat, suddenly I didn't feel relief or peace, just a hollow calm. Last time, I picked with my heart. I thought kindness mattered and loyalty existed. This time, all that screwed me over better be prepared, because if I don't crown myself the witch, I'll create another hierarchy and become a queen. And those who led to my downfall will suffer a thousand times over.
Should I change my name since it's a rebirth and revenge? Varl? Varra? Never mind, let's keep Aria. You just watch. New life, new strategy, new era of the white lotus bitch. And as this innocent Aria flips the coin and pushes you down the cliff, first, I need to pick differently. That old fox better have more than nine tails and lives, because he's going to wish we never met. But who is worthy of this queen?