After moving the things, the little boy appeared and apologized to her with a grin.
Leona had something on her mind and didn't hold it against him.
The lunch was stewed vegetables and potatoes, which were extremely hard to eat. Only a little salt had been added to the stewed vegetables, giving off a greasy and fishy smell. The only thing that could be swallowed was the potatoes, but their skins weren't peeled clean.
Leona almost shed tears while eating.
The lunch wasn't completely fruitless. At least she learned that the little boy's name was John. From now on, if he was lazy again, she could scold him loudly.
Just like in the morning, Eric still didn't show up.
Leona began to worry. Had something happened to him? What if his recovery yesterday was just a last flicker of life? How could she escape from here?
After lunch, the men went aside to smoke and talk animatedly; the women tidied up the dishes and sewed clothes. There were also several people around her backpack, trying to figure out how to open it.
The manager also took a look. However, he wasn't very interested in the backpack. After chatting for a while, he left again.
In the afternoon, the sunshine dispersed the thick fog, and the view became clear.
Leona then realized that they seemed to have camped near a swamp. The air was as humid as a soaked towel. Not far away was a river. The river was unfathomably deep, and its green color was terrifying. Around it were swarms of buzzing mosquitoes.
Leona could swim, but jumping into such a river would be suicide.
Moreover, the original owner's diary mentioned that there were crocodiles nearby.
In addition, there were two exits at the campsite, both guarded by men with rifles. One of the exits even had a horse trough.
Leona had never been in contact with horses before and didn't know they were so easily startled. Just smelling a strange odor would make them rear up and neigh.
So, either she became a horse-taming expert in a short time or she could only leave through the other exit without a horse trough.
It was too difficult.
Leona had considered giving the manager some modern playlists like in a chick-lit novel to improve her status in the circus.
But all this was premised on the manager not making specimens of other people's fetuses and there being no tradition of burning witches here.
It should be noted that abortion was illegal in the 19th century, yet the manager dared to take the risk of being imprisoned for life to exhibit unborn fetuses.
Leona couldn't help but wonder if he had committed even more serious crimes... such as murder?
To take a step back, even if her negotiation with the manager went very smoothly, it would only tie her more closely to the circus and wouldn't be of any use.
She didn't know the exact age of this body, but it was no more than sixteen years old at most.
Would a sixteen-year-old child be respected by the manager, given a reasonable share and treatment?
Obviously not.
Leona thought it over and over again and cast her eyes on Eric's tent again.
Apart from him, she really seemed to have no other way out.
— Take a gamble?
But soon, new problems emerged.
When the evening party started, Eric still didn't show up. His tent was also dark, with no light shining out.
Leona was a little anxious but didn't dare to show it.
Compared with lunch, the food at the party was abundant, including beer, fruit wine, pies, smoked ham, roasted potatoes, blood sausage, and meat pudding.
Leona wanted to taste the taste of the meat pudding, but before she approached, she smelled the fishy smell of butter and sheep's kidneys and involuntarily stepped back. The others, however, ate with relish.
It was of no use being picky now.
Leona forced herself to take a pie and roasted potatoes, held her breath, and swallowed them with fruit wine.
After a glass of fruit wine, her sluggish thinking became more active.
She was too cautious, afraid to speak, afraid to make eye contact with others. She knew that "Four-Legged Girl" Emily's brother had a problem but didn't dare to actively inquire about the news.
On the surface, she was very calm, but in fact, she was extremely scared, afraid of revealing something different and being questioned and judged by those around her.
This couldn't go on.
She had to take the initiative and do something that the original owner wouldn't do to see if she could change her current situation.
Suddenly, there was a burst of enthusiastic applause ahead.
The manager pushed Emily's wheelchair into the crowd. He waved to the people and said with a big smile, "Emily is about to leave. She wants to sing one last song for everyone — Is there anyone who wants to sing along with her?"
Many people raised their hands, and the band played a lively tune. People sang and danced around the bonfire. Leona hadn't heard this song before. It should be a local ballad.
Taking advantage of everyone watching Emily, Leona turned and walked towards Eric's tent.
Who would have thought that as soon as she turned around, she saw his thin figure.
In the darkness, his white mask was extremely conspicuous, and the two eyeholes were as dull and empty as wax figures, exuding an indifferent indifference.
He silently watched the crowd, wondering what he was thinking.
As if he sensed Leona's gaze, the next moment, he made eye contact with Leona.
It was like a bucket of ice water poured over her head. Leona's occiput tightened, and she felt cold from head to toe. She subconsciously wanted to step back.
But she clenched the wine glass in her hand and restrained the urge to flee.
— She had to take the initiative and do something that the original owner wouldn't do.
Even if Eric was the Phantom of the Opera in the horror movie version and wouldn't yield so easily, she still wanted to try. A kiss.
Just a kiss could make him submit and give up everything within reach.
A bold idea gradually formed in her mind.
Even though he was very likely to be the Phantom in the horror movie version and wouldn't yield so easily, she still wanted to try. She leaned forward and kissed him.
Leona looked at him and took a step forward.
Eric looked at her and tilted his head slightly—not as if asking a question, but more like a beast locking onto its prey, adjusting its field of vision or locating the sound source by tilting its head.
Thinking that he might pull out a dagger and stab her throat at any moment, Leona felt weak in her legs, and her stomach felt as heavy as if it were filled with stones.
She summoned up her courage and continued walking.
One step, and another—
When she reached him, the air seemed to become thick, sticky, and immobile, making it difficult to breathe.
Eric stared straight at her, and his expression gradually became wary.
His gaze was like a hand, grabbing her face and rubbing it up and down—
Leona was so stared at that her scalp tingled, and her cheeks stung painfully. She continued to speak calmly:
"Guess what I saw in the warehouse today?"
No response.
"—The specimen of Emily's child."
Still no response.
Eric's expression didn't change. He seemed indifferent.
He was completely uninterested in the life and death of Emily's child.
Leona knew this very well. She said this just to lead to—
"The manager has committed the serious crime of abortion for a little profit. Do you think that with his character, he will really let Emily and any of us go?"
Eric was still indifferent.
Leona didn't give up. She pursed her lips and continued to add stakes.
"If I'm not wrong, Emily's brother is very likely to be a 'freak hunter', a middleman who specializes in trafficking people like us."
The word "freak" finally caused a slight change in his gaze.
His eyes shifted downward, like a cold, rough stone pressing on her face, rubbing up and down—
Leona was stared at until her scalp tingled, and her cheeks stung painfully. She continued to speak calmly:
"The manager made a specimen of Emily's fetus. Maybe he got a taste of the sweetness and wanted to make a specimen of Emily herself."
"Have you ever thought about what would happen if he found out that a specimen of Emily was worth more than her?"
Leona took a deep breath, raised her head, and looked directly into his eyes without flinching: "—You and me, we will become specimens, specimens in the exhibition hall."
For a moment, his gaze was so fierce that it seemed to tear her skin.
She was about to finish speaking.
This was a desperate move. Fortunately, she still had two trump cards left.
Leona heard her breathing quicken, and blood rushed to her cheeks, buzzing in her ears.
She couldn't tell whether it was fear or excitement, the excitement of going all in.
"Just think, your mask will be taken off—"
Before she finished speaking, the shadow covered her.
Eric bent down. Behind his eyeholes, his gaze was no longer indifferent and dull but surged with terrifying anger.
Inside the white mask, his breathing was heavy and hoarse, like a snake threatened to hiss.
He grabbed her neck and stopped her from continuing.
Leona's heart beat faster. A strong sense of crisis hit her, blinding her and making her sweat coldly on her back.
But she had to keep talking: "Just think, your mask will be taken off—your head will be sealed in a specimen bottle and placed in the exhibition hall—everyone will watch you, watch your face without a mask—"
Before she finished speaking, the force on her neck suddenly increased.
Leona could almost hear the unbearable cracking of her neck.
His breathing also became heavier, like a violent storm, beating on the white mask.
"I know you don't want to see such a scene—"
The oxygen became scarcer, and Leona choked violently as she struggled to breathe and maintain a clear tone, "I don't want to see such a scene either. You are the most talented person I've ever seen... I've never been jealous of anyone's talent. You are the first person I've ever been jealous of..."
"I don't want to see you become a specimen. I want people to hear your talent..."
But Eric didn't loosen his grip on her neck.
He stood still, seemingly returning to the indifferent, dull, and indifferent state.
Fortunately, she still had one last trump card.
Leona stepped forward, struggling to stand on tiptoe, and under his confused, rejecting, and frightened gaze, she kissed his mask.
For a few seconds, he lost all his aggressiveness, like a dog that had been whipped, with an almost ignorant look in his eyes.
It was at this moment that Leona realized that he, like her, was a living person, not a shadow, a threat, or a dagger that could be drawn at any moment.
She opened her mouth to say something, but when she looked up, he had already disappeared without a trace.