"Arin," the woman—her mother—called again. Marilyn lifted a finger to shush her while she tried to think.
Then she remembered how fragile this woman currently was. How she had tried to take her life when the real Arin died. Marilyn lowered her hand and spoke instead.
"Please give me a minute. This is a lot to process."
The woman nodded quickly, even as tears kept falling and her mouth trembled. Marilyn felt a small sense of remorse.
She turned to the man beside her. "Julio. Can you get her something to eat? She hasn't really eaten."
Marilyn wasn't entirely sure if that was accurate, but it seemed likely since Irene was still grieving.
Julio nodded. "Come, Irene. Let's get something for you and Arin. You don't want her starving, do you?"
Irene shook her head. "No. I don't."
"Then come," Julio said, guiding her away.
When Marilyn was sure they were gone, she drew one knee up to her chest and rested her elbow on it, letting herself sink into thought.
She still didn't understand why, or how, she had transmigrated. Usually, in the novels she had read, the people who transmigrated were sad, miserable or just depressed in some way.
Or they were just very poor.
Or perhaps, heartbroken.
Someone like Billy who had just gotten his heart broken by her should have been the one in her position.
But Marilyn didn't fit into any of those categories.
Sure she didn't have a loving mother but she had developed a good coping mechanism by reading amongst other things over the years and was living comfortably. So why her?
After a hot minute of fruitless pondering with no idea on how this had come to be, she switched her thoughts.
Why Orlo's daughter?
That's when things began to make sense to her.
Revenge. Part Two of the comic was about revenge.
And perhaps the reason the novel chose her was simple: she knew the story from start to finish, and she didn't carry emotional baggage. That made her the perfect person to serve revenge.
Also… because of the real Arin's death. Perhaps it had somehow swapped with hers.
Marilyn felt a small smile creep onto her face.
She stood up from the mat.
"Best start early so I don't bore the readers," she murmured to herself with a burst of enthusiasm.
I guess no more of Marilyn. I'm Arin now.
Marilyn—now Arin—followed the path where she had seen Julio and Irene enter. She paused at the doorway, watching as Irene tried to dish out the meal she had prepared, even though she was clearly still devastated.
Should I tell her? Arin pondered. That might devaste her even more. But then again, she deserve to know the truth. But on a second thought… she might hinder my plans of seeking vengeance for my beloved Orlo.
Deciding against revealing her true identity, she stepped fully into the room.
Once Irene spotted her, she wiped her hands behind her apron and rushed over.
"You shouldn't be standing, you might fall and die again!"
What? Arin thought bemused by Irene's words.
She let Irene lead her to a stool and watched as the woman checked her temperature.
"Do you feel any pain anywhere?"
"Uhh… no," Arin stuttered, still unsure how to handle all the emotions Irene was displaying.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," Arin affirmed. After a moment, she added, "There's something I'd like to ask you, if you don't mind…."
"Ask, my child."
My child. The words reverberated in Arin's head. She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the emotions clogging her throat.
"Do I have magic like… Uncle Julio?"
A shattering noise made Arin look away from Irene. Julio stood at the kitchen's entrance, a clay cup of water smashed on the floor from his own startled reaction.
"You foolish child!"
Arin turn back to look at Irene, shocked by her outburst but Irene wasn't done.
"I've warned you never to speak about magic, haven't I?" she asked angrily.
Where did empathetic Irene go? Arin wondered.
Irene went to help Julio pick up the broken clay pieces while Arin watched them quietly.
When they were done, and when Arin was sure they were no longer holding anything that could break, she tried again.
"I need to know if I have magic."
"Shush, Arin." This time it was Julio who spoke.
Irene only shook her head in disappointment as she returned to dishing the food.
Huh? Why was magic a touchy subject?
How am I to maneuver this world and get revenge for my favorite character without magic?
She drew her knees up and rested her elbow on them, slipping back into thought.
In the comic, magic seemed like a necessity, a part of daily life in the world. But, Julio and Irene acted as though it was a forbidden word.
Or perhaps… forbidden for her?
Well, if no one was going to answer her questions, then she would find out herself. She remembered exactly how they checked spiritual veins in the comic.
If she could at least see hers, then she would know for sure.
Arin focused, pointing her hands and willing energy into them as she had read Orlo do. Nothing happened.
"What do you think you are doing?" Julio asked, sounding alarmed. She ignored him and tried again, this time channeling from her core.
This time, luminous lines shimmered forth. Her eyes widened when she saw not only did she have spiritual veins but she had two.
In everything she had read, everyone only had one spiritual vein. Just as people were granted one heart and soul, one vein—but here she was, with two, each reflecting their different energy.
"Where did you learn how to do that?" Julio asked with disbelief. His gaze lingered on the two glowing veins.
Arin registered that he was surprised, but not shocked that she had magic or two spiritual veins. Which meant he knew.
She turned to Irene, who was already rushing to close the windows and doors in a panic.
Irene must have known too. Why keep it a secret and ban the old Arin from talking about it?
"You foolish child!" Irene spat out once she returned to Arin. She looked furious. " Are you trying to get yourself killed? You must never do that again."
Arin's jaw tightened.
"Since you both refuse to tell me anything, I'll do whatever I need to do," she said. "And you will not stop me, Irene."
Irene froze, shocked.
"Watch your tone, Arin," Julio cut in firmly.
What? Too much? Or… was calling your own parents by their name some kind of disrespect here?
"Arin," Irene spoke up after a moment. Her voice was softer now but still heavy with fear. "I know your father's death hurt you. It pained me too. I can't lose you as well. You know what happens when a female is found with spiritual veins… not just one, but two."
Irene began to sob. "They would execute you in front of everyone and exile me too for failing to kill you from the moment you were born."
Wait what?
This was new. Completely new. Arin had read Part One and everything available about this world. There was no mention of women not being allowed to cultivate. There was no mention of executions. Nothing about mothers being required to kill gifted daughters.
But then again… there were barely any female fighters in the novel at all. Every main figure of power had been male. And she never questioned it before.
"That's why your father kept you a secret," Irene continued, crying more now. "and why he accepted the false charges against him. If they had investigated more about him if he has refute the charges against him, they would have discovered you and me—and everything would have been over."
Arin felt her shoulders slumped.
So there was more to the story after all, she thought to herself.
Luckily, Arin knew a few ways to handle situations like this from the numerous fantasy novels she has read.
The problem was… Irene and Julio would never agree. So she decided to rely on her mundane powers instead: manipulation.
"I didn't know that," she started, trying her best to look dejected.
Irene came to sit beside her, pulling Arin close so she could rest her head on her shoulders. "It's okay, my baby," Irene whispered, her voice soft and soothing.
Arin could only hope that Julio would be there too, to calm Irene once she said what she was about to.
"If you had told me this before," Arin started quietly, "I wouldn't have let Father send me back. I promised him revenge when we met in the afterlife. And he pushed me here to finish it."
"What did you just say?" Irene pulled away and stared at her.
"Well, I saw Father." Arin repeated. "He told me about everything. He said I can't be dead yet because I'm his only hope to make sure he's not forgotten and to clear his name."
Arin expected Irene to start another round of crying or maybe even faint, but she didn't. She just stayed quiet for a full minute. It was Julio who finally spoke.
"Is Master Orlo trying to get the rest of his family killed?"
"On the contrary," Arin said, "I think he saved us. If he hadn't sent me back, Ire—Mother would have gone through with her suicide."
Julio frowned. "And how exactly do you plan to seek vengeance? Have you forgotten that girls can't wield spiritual veins?"
Arin blinked. She… actually hadn't thought that far yet. She was still trying to piece it together when Irene suddenly spoke.
"She can't train magic openly as a girl," Irene said slowly, making Arin turn toward her. "But boys are allowed to."
Arin's eyes widened. That would work.
If she could pass herself off as a boy, no one would ever suspect because naturally they would think girls can't wield magic.
A grin spread across her face. She almost wanted to hug Irene and tell her she was a genius.
But Julio, bless his soul, just had to ruin the moment. "Exactly. Which is why Arin can't get revenge," he said, clearly not catching on to Irene's point.
Arin rolled her eyes and turned to him. "She means I can pretend to be a boy, Uncle Julio."
He didn't even get the chance to react before Irene said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "Come, let's eat before the food gets cold."