*yawn*
Another yawn exited her mouth as she extended her hands above her head. She wiped her weary eyelid and cracked her neck. She extended her curled-up body and slowly placed her cinderella feet on the foot mat in front of the bed.
She knelt to retrieve her second pair of slippers, which had fallen under the bed, and as she struggled to get her legs into them, her gaze was drawn to the paintings on the foot mat.
She startled, shrieked, and stumbled backwards on the bed, convinced that the giant monster depicted on the rug was real and was ready to devour her.
She looked down at the foot mat and laughed after prodding it three times with her fingers.
"Not living," she said, jumping to her feet. She put her feet in the slippers and…
"Ahhh!"
She screamed as her gaze was drawn to the enormous footwear. She swiftly took her feet out of the slippers, leaped back into the bed, and cuddled up.
"Who the hell has such massive feet?" She took another look at the footwear and shook her head. Her father's feet were about the same size as hers; who then owned the slippers?
Her eyes began their own journey as her thoughts wandered. The room was four times the size of her chamber at her father's home, and to top it all off, the color was so off that nothing looked decent. Her gaze moved from the black transparent linen that separated the room from the balcony to the bookcases at the opposite end of the room.
As her gaze scanned the library, she let out a brief giggle. She couldn't help but wonder whether this was a child's room because the countertops were only two steps from the ground.
Why were there dark drawings of things her eyes couldn't distinguish all over the walls of the room, if truly this was a child's room? Wouldn't the obnoxious artwork drive away the so-called child?
Wait a minute. Wasn't she supposed to be dead? The car knocked her down, or is this the paradise her elementary school teacher constantly talks about?
"No. No. No." Elisabeta shook her head, mocking the teacher's view. If a bully could get his feet inside this room, he would surely urinate on his trousers.
"Ki..a"
As Elisabeta heard a male voice cry as if he were in a war zone or something, her gaze snapped towards the door.
She gingerly returned her white feet to the icy floor after a few minutes of meditation. She soon arrived at the room's entrance, sticking only her head outside.
The first thing she saw was a group of ladies dressed in a blue flaring gown with a white apron wrapped around their waists, all lined up with their heads lowered to their chests as if they were rooted to the ground and unable to move an inch.
She moved towards them on her toes, bowing her head under one of them. Her intellect kept telling her they weren't statues but their fixed position was forcing her to ignore her instincts.
She tried to pick her nostril with her pinky finger but couldn't because the gorgeous statue moved.
The girl lifted her head and rolled her eyes at Elisabeta before lowering it back to its original position.
"They weren't statues at all." Elisabeta chuckled, placing her palm over her lips.
She waved at them as she jogged down the hall. She was humming and dancing to the music in her head till she arrived to what appeared to her to be a museum.
Was she transmigrated? Why does everything seem so weird when compared to the current world? The entire hall was constructed of bricks, and even the patterns were vintage.
When she turned her head, she noticed a standing mirror. She dashed over to it, covering her face with her hands.
"what if the face's owner is ugly?" she mused.
She had read tens of thousands of transmigration stories on online novels and had come to believe in reincarnation and transmigration.
She removed her hands from her face, and her eyes widened when she beheld a lovely damsel in the mirror.
Her eyes were black and large, and her oval face and rosy cheeks complemented her small nose. Any walking thing with a groin would be enticed by her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun. She appeared to be a queen. Even in the current world, this is what one would call beautiful.
She grinned and rested her left hand on her cheek. This girl was so stunning that she reminded her of— ELISABETA!
"Uh?" Elisabeta exclaimed as she observed that the only difference between her ordinary face and the one in the mirror was the cosmetics and hairstyle, as well as the clothing; the gown was as long as the ancient aristocratic ladies of britain.
The face resembled hers, but it was more mature and elegant.
"Was I transmigrated into one of my female predecessors who was a princess or a noble man's daughter?" She wondered.
"Ki…a"
She raced in the direction of the grunting voice when she heard it again. She slowly opened the curtain and inserted only her head inside. What she saw was beyond her comprehension.
"How can a man in a wheelchair manage to be so skilled?" she bit her lip as her hands tightened on the curtain.
As the man in the wheelchair dodged backwards and the assailant slouched his blade towards his head position, Elisabeta gasped.
She grasped her cloth and her heart began to pound; she feared the white-headed guy would sever the wheelchair man's skull.
She wished to emerge from her hiding in order to deal with the white-headed guy since she suspected him of being an enemy, but she held back after hearing what the man in the wheelchair said.
"Is that all you got, Zhane? What happened to all of your trainings? How come you can't fight like a man?"
When Elisabeta heard the wheelchair man brag, she scoffed. "who does he believe he is? Because of your situation, I'm sure he's not giving it his all." she hissed after mumbling under her breath, "Haughty peacock."
The white-headed guy took another sword from the side of his jeans and pointed the sharp blade towards the man in the wheelchair, as if waiting for the signal to begin.
The wheelchair man swings his sword and the combat starts.
Elisabeta tilted her head from left to right, holding the hem of her garment. All she wants is for the white-headed person to prevail, but the wheelchair man was defying his attacks.
Her thoughts complimented the wheelchair man's humor as she nodded her head. Her smile stopped as the wheelchair man move his chair backward, and her gaze was drawn to his face.
She was taken aback. A married lady would readily leave her husband to be his mistress since the man's physical characteristics were so enticing. The perspiration on his brow gave him the appearance of a Greek deity in war.
Elisabeta noticed her mouth dripping; was she lusting?
"Elisabeta, you're a jerk" she slapped herself. She shook her head, hoping to wipe his picture from her mind, but it didn't work.
What would you name this man if Lucas was renowned as the nation's most attractive man? Adonis for the entire continent?— he certainly deserves the title.
As the man in the wheelchair slashed the other man's arm, her consciousness was jerked back to the present. She hurriedly covered her eyes with her hands; she knew the guy would be bleeding by now; but what she didn't know was that she had shouted so loudly that she grabbed the haughty peacock's attention!