After the curtains fell on the playback, Izzy sat slumped in her seat and fell deep into her thoughts.

  To put it simply, she was an experiment, a part of an intricate ritual from some shadowy organization; their intention was most likely to shape her into a weapon, controlled by affection rather than force.

  Since she didn’t know the language he spoke in the beginning of the ritual, she could only catch their name in his conversation. They referred to themself as ‘the Order’, and they worshiped a being called “Him”.

  Within the Order’s hierarchy, if Izzy had to guess, then Benjamin was likely a foot soldier, a low-ranking operator stationed here to tend the ritual.

  The Herald, who was cloaked in crimson smoke, was their messenger, and above them called "the Legates", a powerful one.

  Standing on the opposite side of them was an official force: the Church, which was self-explanatory. From what she could gather, the Church was likely the authority body of Winterin, something like the police.

  Apparently, the storm that had concealed her escape the other night was a consequence of a battle between the Church’s operatives and Benjamin’s Order. That alone painted a terrifying picture of their scale.

  And then there were other factions with names like the Hysteria and the Sweet Blood Order. Whoever they were, they appeared to have their own agendas and were aware of her existence to a certain extent.

  As if being the target of one wasn’t enough, now multiple ones were circling like vultures. That added another layer of complication to her already tangled predicament.

  It was almost amusing, though. The storm, which had inadvertently aided her escape that day, was now being spun as a convenient scapegoat in the Order’s plans.

  Benjamin and the Herald seemed more than happy to pin the blame on Hysteria or Sweet Blood. If she ever met them, maybe she would thank whichever idiots had taken the blame on her behalf.

  Of course, enemies or allies remained to be seen before that. She couldn’t afford to trust any of them.

  The worst part was that they had already noticed her extraordinary abilities. How did Benjamin know? She could guess; she had left too many clues that it would really be surprising if they were not suspicious at all.

  Yet there was the silver lining: they had misunderstood the nature of her abilities, which was a huge boon for her.

  ‘Command aptitude, hmm.’

  From their perspective, it was the most logical conclusion. What else would they think besides that?

  ‘Will there be others?’

  Another question crept into her mind. Based on their conversation, it seemed clear that they wanted to create objects imbued with consciousness and extraordinary power, a kind of living weapon that was bound to their will.

  If so, then her case wasn’t unique. This type of cruel experiment had likely been conducted before, and surely, there must be others. Those being trapped in an object and having to play house with their “parents”.

  ‘The question is…are they also transmigrators as well?’

  Izzy leaned back in her seat and exhaled slowly.

  For now, she had no answer and even less reason to care. Her plate was already full. Whether there were others like her or not, their misery was theirs to bear.

  There was a more urgent matter at hand.

  The Herald, whoever or whatever they were, had mentioned their intent to come here personally to conduct the final experiment. By his own words, that experiment most certainly involved her, perhaps literally and figuratively to put a collar around her neck or anchor her consciousness into flesh.

  And that seemed to require her “consent”. That was why Benjamin had spent so long weaving this farce of affection, showering her with love and family. He wanted "Isidora" to accept him as her real father, to recognize him as her kin, all too likely a requirement for the Herald’s final procedure.

  Who knew? That was her guess, and she might be wrong. It might be that the ritual didn’t require her love, but affection would make it harder to resist being controlled by Benjamin however he pleased.

  She had not dealt with Benjamin yet; if these two were together, her chance of escaping would be almost nonexistent.

  Which made her feel a sense of urgency. She needed to deal with Benjamin first before the arrival of Herald.

  And as if fate itself wanted to tip the scales, the old fool had voluntarily poisoned himself on her watch. A reckless gambit, yet one that gave her an invaluable opportunity.

  ‘So that’s what he meant when he said we were out of food?’

  If Izzy had to guess, Benjamin’s comment that day served as a warning about his next steps against her.

  This move served several calculated purposes:

  One was to weaken her resistance. By implying that sustenance was scarce, he hoped to create an impression of dependency and strip her of her potential energy reserves. This would affect her usual intellect and her ability to “command”, as that old lunatic assumed.

  Two was to create a crisis within her. He wanted to paint their situation as dire and sent her a message: "No Benjamin, no food."

  Three was to evoke sympathy from her. By using his own weakened state, he would present himself as a frail old man in need of her aid and attempt to forge a bridge of “trust” and break any walls she had.

  The implication of these three was simple: if he died, then her only source of sustenance would vanish, and with it also would go her existence. That way, he could make her become more affectionate toward him and want to reach out to him.

  And fourth, to manipulate her further. If she really did listen, it would deepen her perceived obligation, effectively locking her into the role of his "daughter" and turning her into his puppet.

  It was a clever psychological trap. After all, many creatures were bound by survival instinct. A being chained to survival instinct would always submit to the hand that fed it.

  But Benjamin had made a fatal miscalculation. “Isidora” didn’t need him; they could sustain themselves without his help. Sure, it would take longer to accumulate more energy than relying on "human resources", but they could endure on their own.

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  About how Izzy was able to figure out all of these, it stemmed from something she had previously considered.

  She vividly recalled the first words when the young mind Isa called out to him when they first awakened. She called him "Grampa", as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  She didn’t understand it at first, but now, she understood the situation. The plan to instill affection had already been set in motion long before her awakening. The seed of affection was already inside her from the start.

  If Izzy, the mature mind, hadn’t existed within "Isidora" and questioned this abnormality, his plan would have been a guaranteed success.

  Haha, Izzy almost laughed aloud. That old man really had a death wish, to cripple himself just to wrap things up fast. He really was a greedy man, wasn’t he?

  In her past life, she was far from extraordinary; she was just a mere common folk without any extraordinary power, strength, or wealth. She could not compete with those who had one in any field.

  What kept her alive was to observe, analyze, and play dirty. They were hard to kill, for sure, but nobody with extraordinary powers was invulnerable; they were still human.

  Even the mighty were bound by their habits. Everyone had flaws and vulnerabilities. They needed rest. They had things they cared for and things they liked and disliked. Everyone had something that could be turned against them.

  Especially those who were greedy… often did not last long.

  Izzy furrowed her brows and shook her head. Reminding herself of her past life was not pleasant.

  For now, survival was her first priority.

  ‘Let’s hope he doesn't have any trick up his sleeve.’

  She thought to herself, she did not really want to deal with another of his tricks at all.

  —

  Many uneventful days passed. The old lunatic’s usual routines and his interactions with her had been steadily declining.

  Each time they met, he looked paler, his health visibly deteriorating, and it was accelerating. It was not her problem; after all, no one had forced him to poison himself; he’d done that willingly.

  In fact, she found his reckless sacrifice almost helpful. His skewed way of thinking might have been insane, but it was a grand welcome. It certainly made her job easier.

  Nothing significant had changed during the last few days, at least on the surface. Though this relative calm would not last forever. She knew the situation would shift soon, but now was not the time. She had decided to wait until Benjamin made his move, then strike when the timing was right.

  In the meantime, she focused on training her abilities. Most of her focus went into refining her Psychokinesis, trying to manipulate objects more efficiently and precisely.

  The mature mind struggled with control objects from afar; she fumbled often, in stark contrast to the young mind Isa, who wielded the ability almost effortlessly.

  Speaking of Isa, the younger mind was still fixated on untangling the wire puzzle. To Izzy’s astonishment, the girl hadn’t given up yet. Her persistence was remarkable, if a little exhausting to watch.

  Izzy hadn’t realized her younger self could be more persistent than she was, still refusing to give up. This explained how drastically growing up had changed her way of thinking, from that endless tenacity into pragmatism.

  It seemed that adulthood came with the silent resignation that some knots weren’t worth the trouble of untying. Although, just a quick glance at the theatre and she could have done it splendidly, how inefficient.

  Amidst this routine, something unexpected happened. Izzy discovered a peculiar new ability that completely threw her off balance. It turned out that she could make the "painted Isidora", the figure in the portrait, move!

  This was totally a fluke, for obvious reasons. They couldn't observe the painting when they were literally it, it required Possession of other objects.

  For many days, Isa had taken notice of strange, subtle movements in the painting, which seemed to mirror some of Izzy’s habitual actions whenever she was deep in thought. One time, it stroked its forehead. Another time, it shifted its hand slightly or tilted its head.

  This was how they stumbled upon the realization.

  A chill ran through her. This was dangerous. If she hadn’t discovered it first, but the old man had, then who knew what disaster it could’ve triggered? Luckily, her natural caution had kept her still in his presence.

  The discovery was unsettling. This was supposed to be her “body”, yet she hadn’t even been aware of its movements until now.

  Even worse, when she deliberately tested it, making the painted hand rise slightly, she felt no sensations from the painted version of herself. Moving the painted figure felt hollow and disconnected, like controlling a puppet with strings.

  And what use was this stupid ability?

  ‘It was totally useless!’

  Sure, the painted Isidora could move, but only within the confines of the picture frame. She couldn’t step outside of it, trapped within the painting’s borders like a bird in an ornate cage.

  What could she even do with this ability? This felt like a waste. Izzy groaned internally as the painted Isidora absentmindedly stroked its forehead again.

  ‘No, back to normal.’

  The painted figure obediently moved her hand back to its original position.

  She could not feel any sensation when the painted version of her moved and interacted with other painted objects in the painting. It was quite miserable to look at.

  Izzy leaned back; a sly thought slipped into her mind.

  ‘Well, maybe this should give him a good prank.’

  *Clang*

  ‘?’

  A sudden sound startled Izzy, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her mind immediately shifted focus, eyes turning inward to connect with the younger self.

  ‘I… I did it!’ Isa’s ecstatic voice cried out, vibrating with excited energy.

  ‘What!’

  Izzy’s focus darted to the source—and sure enough, the disentanglement wire puzzle hovered in midair, separated into two neat pieces.

  Izzy’s eyes widened in disbelief. She stared at the disentanglement wire puzzle hovering in midair... The once-impossible tangle of coils and loops was now perfectly separated. Isa had finally done it, she’d solved the puzzle!

  ‘How!’

  ‘I don’t know, but I did it!’ Isa’s tone was overflowing with delight.

  She blinked. Usually, that was the kind of ridiculous thing only a genius would say. Could her young self really be one?

  Izzy stared at the accomplishment in silence. Back in the past, she had been nothing more than a street rat. An uneducated orphan scraping by with odd jobs, sleeping wherever there was a roof to be found.

  There had never been time for puzzles; the opportunities for study or self-improvement were nonexistent.

  However, her ability to brainstorm and the knack for connecting dots together had been enough to earn better paychecks over time.

  ‘By the look of it, it seems I really am a prodigy.’

  ‘Right?!’

  The mature mind snorted faintly. That was all in the past, it didn’t matter much now.

  ‘I can focus on talking to you now, yay!’

  ‘Wait, I did not ask for that.’

  ‘Aww.’

  Izzy dismissed Isa’s antics with a mental wave. There was no time to indulge her.

  ‘Anyway, it’s almost time.’

  ‘Yes! Almost time, let’s go!’

  Izzy’s gaze swept across the attic. She had prepared everything as well as she could for what was coming.

  Beneath the loose floorboards, she had hidden an arsenal of potential weapons, things that in an emergency could make all the difference.

  A hidden knife rested among other scattered implements, and a hammer in case of emergency. Nails were spread strategically across the floor, concealed from plain sight. Shards of glass, tangled threads, spare keys, and even a white cloth that could double as a blind or cover should he resist.

  As Izzy possessed an object close to the edge of the room, her perspective shifted. From her vantage point, she gazed down at the floor below.

  ‘That old man has already made up his mind, it seems,’ she muttered inwardly.