245 She Who Traveled To The Past 2

She was mysteriously sent to the past or another world...

Was this really possible?

Does it mean the dramas and novels about reincarnation or transmigration she had read before were not talking nonsense?

'Dammit.'

The woman felt so confused. Yet she could not think of any other explanation apart from this.

'Maybe I did die due to that ugly man? I remember being deprived of air for so long. Damnit. If I knew this will happen to me, I would have taken swimming classes or lessons on activities that will help me strengthen my lungs!'

It took her a dozen seconds to realize that the idea too was so silly to the ears.

Wendy closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she sluggishly got up and went to the full-body size bronze mirror on the left side of the room.

Blonde hair and black eyes.

'Ugh... Definitely not my ideal combination.'

She pouted. The figure slightly hazily reflected on the mirror also did the same action.

As she peered into her new look into it, she pursed her lips again then exclaimed,

"Great... But if that whoever who made me come here wants me to become a blonde, why didn't she or he go all the way and gave me a pair of emerald green or sapphire blue eyes? This is definitely the most incorrect way to transmigrate!"

She was about to scream in frustration when she realized that her mind had wandered to the wrong zone again.

Survival was the first problem. The second was if she could still return.

Wendy looked around for some time and even checked her dressing room. However, aside from being momentarily stunned by the wealth of this current body's family, there was nothing more to marvel at.

She bitterly laughed and went back to her bed. After rolling around and fighting an imaginary enemy there, she laid limply on top of it then screamed.

It felt quite nice that she didn't truly lose her voice like what she initially thought.

At least, once given the opportunity, she could use this new mouth of hers to ask around and know what the real situation was.

Unfortunately, even if the voice was quite nice-sounding, and in fact, more melodious than her original, it still felt foreign and unreal.

She missed her former voice.

She missed her former face. And life.

...

...

A day passed since she suddenly woke up as the seventeen years old sole daughter of a duke.

Her name in this world was Elizabeth. Same first name as that woman who reigned the B Empire around the 1500s.

Her last name was Seymour though. She was almost sure she didn't exist in history. Or if she did, she must be cannon fodder. Or wait, maybe she was the sister of a queen? Ooops, it seemed that was not possible since she was a sole daughter...

Maybe a sworn sister or cousin then? If her memories were not failing her, didn't she read from some Western history books that a lustful king's third queen called Jayne Seymour had a sister named Elizabeth Seymour?

But it could also happen that she was really in another world, something existing inside what they called 'shoujo novels' where she was actually engaged to someone and she was the villainess.

'Ewww...'

If ever that was the case, she would make sure to run away and not copy those protagonists who resolved themselves to seduce their fiancés or desired lovers with their 'cotton candy tactics'.

"Milady," Martha her personal maid came in and curtsied at her.

She gave her a faint smile then asked, "What's the matter?"

"The master has summoned you to the guest receiving room."

"Oh? A visitor? Who?"

The maid blinked at her playfully before shaking her head, "To be honest, milady, of all the visitors, I only saw and recognized Duke Cromwell. I think he's with Duchess Cromwell and their heir."

The eyes of the mini-Wendy inside her head began to turn into two huge dots.

Headache once again assaulted her.

Would it be alright for her to faint? Someone, come to her, she wouldn't mind being punched if that would mean instant knockout.

"Milady, your presence is requested there. Allow me to fix your hairstyle and dress."

Feeling helpless and annoyed by the traditions and customs here, she nodded.

But in her mind, she was thinking that once she had enough knowledge of how to survive in this place, she would seriously consider fleeing and escaping from here.

Unfortunately, right now, the information she had was very limited since the former owner of her body was a boudoir lady through and through and had never even tried to explore the outside world by herself.

A few minutes later...

Even though very unwilling and indisposed, she went into the large and heavily decorated room meant for receiving guests and successfully passed the greeting plus curtsying phase through the memories engraved in her mind and body.

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She saw her 'father' Duke Eduard Seymour smiling widely at her. Next to him was the Duchess, her mother.

Since the man in his forties was signaling to her though his eyes to come to his side, she restrained the twitching of her lips and walked over.

She had to watch her steps since the dress she was dragging was quite heavy and long.

Both the tight corset on her upper body, and whatever hoop-like thing underneath her red layered skirt was giving her nightmares.

She wondered who started this fashion for women. She would make sure to send him or her a few death threats.

Finally, after a long while which felt like an eternity, she arrived at the spot between her ducal parents.

Eduard Seymour whose smile never left his face turned to the man standing in front.

Eduard laughingly said, "My daughter, Elizabeth."

Now that Wendy was next to her 'father', she wanted to get a closer look of who the people they were meeting with.

But as if on cue, her body reacted and lightly bowed while curtsying.

The man wearing the same black court attire as her father nodded in approval then turned to the young man to his left. "Son, introduce yourself to your fiancée."

A familiar voice resounded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

With too much difficulty, Wendy suppressed the knitting of her brow. She raised her head to take a look at who this new betrothed that she would run away from.

"I am William Cromwell."

Yet when she saw the face of the young man registered in her eyes, she felt like the world had momentarily stopped spinning.

It was the unsmiling face of her pretty-faced dog.

'Ver...'

...

...

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