It had just been a game. A silly otome game with yandere capture targets.
Everything changes when she finds herself in the world that inspired the story she'd played.
The Caretakers warned her her new timeline would implode if she wasn't careful i...
To say her father was protective the day after their visit to the Capital would have been a massive understatement.
Before dawn the next day Vienna had awoken from another nightmare.
So she had slid from the bed herself and taken a stool up to the basin stand to wash her face.
As she lifted the clay pitcher, she misjudged the strength of her small kid arms. The pottery was much thicker than her Before memories. Wofford pottery was thicker, and the mud was a good adhesive, leading it to be a trade item in the Continent. The pitcher had crashed to the floor but didn't break. A crack ran down its side and its lip chipped.
She had winced from the loud sound and clambered off the stool. She grabbed the pitcher off the ground only to touch the sharp, chipped lip.
Vienna let out a cry, her eyes watering from the stinging pain. It was as painful as a splinter, annoying but not life-threatening.
She clenched her teeth as she winced from her wound. It was more than a surface bleed than she thought. Her brown eyes darted, trying to find something she could wrap around her hand. Between her bed sheets and her small night shift, she decided to rip the shift. As she ripped it with her teeth, her father burst through the door. His face flush no doubt from the early morning run he took every dawn.
"Vienna! Ezzie said she heard a cra..." His voice stopped, and he dropped to his knees before her. Immediately, even as his hands trembled, he wrapped her hand. Then checked the rest of her body. She couldn't stop as she squirmed away when he went to check her for injuries. The pain still radiated down her side from where the prince had kicked her.
His eyes narrowed. He lifted her night shift sleeves. She could not hide the purplish bruises on both her left and right arms almost identical in shape.
Vienna looked away.
Her father demanded, "Who did this to you?"
Vienna looked up through her eyelashes. She shook her nightgown's sleeves down before she pointed to the pitcher.
"What do you mean, Pop? No one did. I broke it."
He sat back on his haunches before tilting his head to the side.
Ezzie, their only housekeeper, came in behind him. Her eyes shifted between Vienna's father's stiff shoulders and the pitcher. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the crimson that stained Vienna's shift.
"Oh my, look at this mess. Why don't we get you cleaned up, little miss?"
"Ok, Ezzie!"
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Her father wouldn't stop staring on their way to breakfast. His face was stiff except for his mouth, which moved as if to form words, but none came out.
Vienna gripped her father's neck, speaking up to distract him, "Are there any books you haven't read in the library?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Vienna could see her father jut out his bottom lip in a semi-pout. She pursed her lips to stop a giggle from bursting forth.
