"Mama, that little boy is selling quiches!" Came a little girl's voice as she dragged her mother's left arm with all her might. She could see the abhorrence in her mother's eyes alone, not even her lips that were sealed could define how remorseful the older woman felt for taking her own daughter to such a poor environment. Her daughter didn't seem to mind, her scintillating amber eyes shimmering in the daylight as she witnessed the bustling streets of people dressed in rags. In comparison to the rags, her daughter's rich, long and smooth dark green hair with faded celeste ends and her little clean dress said otherwise.
Her mother sighed and withdrew her arm from her daughter's embrace before criticising her. "Come on, Mira, you've seen almost everything here — Gosh, I shouldn't have taken you to such a place. Wouldn't it have been better for you to see the local market?"
"Local market, we've been there so many times I even memorised the products in each store," Mira groaned as a little pout surfaced on her lips. "In fact, we've been to so many local markets where we live that I need to rest my eyes on something new."
The older woman bit her lip as her eyes went sharp. Since when was she this cunning? I'm sure the genes didn't come from me or him.
Mira took a deep breath to allow the environment to seep into her mind. Although it was true that where they were wasn't sanitary at all, she wanted to embrace the fact that everyone was different — that perhaps even different people from different environments had something in common. She didn't want to get used to the Afterglow Savannah because something she was not intimate with was something that she would remember the plentifullest. Mira was lucky that her mother allowed her to travel, especially because her father was a stubborn man who did not understand her free will. Unlike her father, her mother related the most due to her yearning for freedom, yet she was not able to attain it due to their arranged marriage.
Yet Mira had a much more dangerous goal in mind besides free will within her family ties.
She wanted to flee; flee to the other side of the world where everyone wouldn't know who she was. Instead of being remembered as 'that couple's daughter' or 'that rich kid', she wanted someone to at least once — call her by her own given name. She felt herself feeling morose, her heart contracting in the customary fashion of being depressed before she dashed over to the little boy who sold the quiches. Mira discerned the food, the scent that could send her to heaven right at that single moment.
Smells like cheap bacon, but it's cooked really well to the fact that it can barely be recognised as cheap. The parsley is super fresh and green inside the filling. Did this kid really make the food himself?
"Four of these, please!" She childishly grinned, a missing tooth noticeable. The boy beamed before instantly taking the tongs that were left on the little stool resting on the single layer of tissue, taking the four stacked in front of him and placing it blandly inside a bag. Mira recognised the two little bumps on his head, ears, before curiosity got to her.
"That'd be 500 madol—"
"Hey, can I touch your ears?" She asked in enthusiasm, sparkles radiating around her. The male seemed taken aback, his eyes widening and confused as his ears twitched on cue. A cunning little smirk formed on her features, even her eyes looked as if they were smiling, as she placed a 1000 note of madol. "Of course, it's not for free."
Her mother intercepted to her, the stomping of her heels interrupting them, a fierce grasp on Mira's wrist awoke her of her curiosity. "What are you doing, Mama?"
"You're paying this little kid just to touch his ears? I've tolerated you too much, Mira Ebony, we're heading back!" The woman's voice got more strident as Mira stood there with a little exhausted expression. The grasp on her wrist already caused a bruise, she was sure of it, yet it wasn't just pain that she couldn't tolerate. Despite her parents caring very much for her, their love was suffocating. She couldn't remember the first time she felt this dejected, the feeling definitely wasn't anything new. If it was an emotion that she had felt every single time, even she got fatigued from feeling that way.
Unbeknownst to her family, Mira was someone who could not figure out the right, the wrong - the difference in ethics –– just like a kid she acted out to be. She wasn't against her own disability, though, she was glad to feel that way otherwise she would be as weak as any ten-year-old child who just wanted to enjoy life. Ever since she had become aware of her family's toxicity, it seemed that she had developed a sense of tolerance. Mira glanced at the little boy who stood from his stool, still confused and a bit panicked.
She grinned once again, yet his figure was getting smaller and smaller the more her mother pushed her from the streets.
"You can keep the 1000 madol~!"
All he knew was her name, the seaweed-like curly hair that draped over her shoulders and the lustrous twinkles of her marmalade orbs that seemed more expensive than anything he had seen.
🌻
Ouch.
"How. Many. Times. How many times have I told you to stay away from such places!?"
Look, he's mad again.
At least the quiches were super tasty.
"D-Dear, it was my fault. I let her go out because I thought having me with her would suffice-"
"Of course, it's your fault! What idiot out here would let her child visit such a poor town!? Are you asking for a beating?"
Mira gawked at the back of her knees, the red stinging sensation that throbbed on her skin. She winced at the fact that the last time she had gotten a bruise there was two days ago. She wondered if he had pleasure in beating people like that, his own child, and whether it actually helped her learn her lesson. Her amber orbs traced her mother's trembling figure, the thin hands that seemed so powerful when she got grabbed by the wrist now shaking like a thin shard of ice ready to fall off a roof on a winter's day.
Everything was so funny in the household,
—And it seemed to curse her to her death.
Even so, she had to play the nice guy. She took her father's hand that held the broom, the damn broom that he used to become famous in Magical Shift. An innocent yet 'trembling' smile bore on her lips as her eyes closed, tears forming on the ends of her eyes. "T-That's enough, Papa. I promise I won't go there again, so don't hurt Mama like that."
His face had gotten redder, the grasp on his broom tightening as Mira thought in her mind, was that the wrong choice? Should I have gone for the more aggressive act? Doesn't he want to see his dominance scaring his family?
Yet, right on cue when she was going to regret her little act, he sighed. The man stood up from kneeling in order to hit the back of her knees, placed his broom on one of the sofas in the living room and silence comforted her besides the faint screaming of the fire trapped in the fireplace. Her mother looked at her, a look that told her 'good job for getting us out of harm', but Mira looked away. He scratched the back of his neck in conflict.
"Alright, but if I notice you guys going on your little 'unsanitary trip' ever again. Don't expect me to go easy on you both."
"T-Thank you very much, Dear."
"Thanks, Papa!"
Mira could feel her mother's warmth radiating on her back, the embrace that a mother should have given her daughter the moment when she was born. She rolled her eyes as she stared down on the crimson carpet, reminding herself that she did not feel any pain, nothing was new, that her only role in the family was to be obedient before the time comes where she was able to spread her wings, poke her tongue before her parents, and take her remaining lifetime in absolute cosmic bliss.
Like she thought, everything was so funny in the household — and it wasn't long until she was able to change her fate.
She sat on her chair, her eyes skimming on the floating piece of paper as her pen wrote her thoughts. It wasn't long until her plan was fulfilled, that she would be able to satisfy Mira's deeds.
"I hope this is sufficient for you, Mira...but seriously, did you really have to make me reincarnate into your body just because you're this vulnerable? A sociopathic woman who was about to die from murder, out of all people," she mumbled to herself as the pen paused. She clicked her fingers before the pen dropped to the table along with the parchment that drifted to her small pale hands.
It's been a year since I reincarnated into this kid but it seems like everything is going according to plan. As long as I can hide my unique magic for a while later, I can escape without them knowing. After escaping, it seems that Mira has a nice cousin whom she can live with for a while along with their family, then I can move on in order to not stir suspicion for her own family. Hmm, if anything, it seems that I can take out some money that's been in her bank account...but that can be tracked.
But again, if I can change my appearance it wouldn't be much of a problem.
She stared out the window, the lingering clouds that drifted in the tangerine sky as the vast yet fainted mountains dusted in the distance reflected on her eyes. Mira barely opened the blinds of the window, yet she was glad that she did. It brought a nice ambience to the room — the creamy walls that were now enveloped in the more vivid shade like the insides of a rockmelon, the small, twirling chandelier that shimmered in millions of colours tinting the carpet in succinct luminous shards.
It wouldn't be long until she had left the room that she thought trapped her for an entire year, devastated from the act of reincarnating. She recalled locking herself up for days, the screaming of an unfamiliar man as he punched the door, the begging of the unfamiliar woman who had a croaky voice and tear-filled eyes — the unfamiliar other voices that seemed like the man's underlings addressing the matter of how to take the girl out of her room. Mira did everything she could to not let them in, like pushing furniture to the door, learning that magic existed, and the flowing of weird memories that caused her to scream in the pain of a headache.
She hated it.
For the first time, she wished she was herself.