"Leona?" The little boy called her again, sounding a bit impatient this time. "You're daydreaming again."
"Sorry," Leona came back to her senses and subtly put the gold pocket watch back in its original place. "I'm just... so sleepy."
The little boy shrugged and said, "You've never been fully awake. So, is Eric still following you?"
This was a crucial piece of information.
Leona replied cautiously, "...What do you think?"
"What do I think?" The little boy took out a piece of tobacco from his trouser pocket and stuffed it into his mouth to chew. "I think - it's impossible for him to follow you. All this is just your illusion."
He turned his head and spat to the side: "Dear, if Eric had the ability to follow you, sneak into your tent in the middle of the night, and stand behind you to scare you, would he have ended up being beaten up so badly by Mac?"
"Just like that, I'm leaving first," The little boy waved at her. "Something big happened today. I'm definitely going to get beaten up when I wake up in the morning. It's all because of Eric - may his wounds fester with maggots!"
After sending the little boy away, Leona lowered the curtain of the tent and was about to carefully check the gold pocket watch in her corset.
However, at this moment, she noticed that the canvas of the tent was covered with writing.
Black capital letters, densely packed together like flies, almost a bit creepy at first glance.
The moment she understood it, she felt her scalp go numb and a chill rushed straight to the top of her head.
"He will follow you."
"He will peep at you."
"He will kill you, he will kill you, he will kill you... he will kill you he will kill you he will kill you he will kill you he will kill you he will kill you..."
Some of the words were obscured by grease.
Leona held her breath and looked carefully. What was written was -
"He is watching you from behind."
She immediately broke out in a cold sweat and turned around sharply.
There was nothing behind her.
What the hell?
Who wrote this?
And who is the "he" mentioned?
Leona remembered the little boy's words, and her heart skipped a beat.
Could it be... Eric?
But how could that be possible?
When talking to the little boy, she quickly analyzed the current situation.
It seemed that she was in a circus.
Here, the manager played the role of a judge, maintaining order and deciding life and death.
Mac was a relative of the manager. Because he was worth five thousand francs, the manager tacitly allowed him to bully Eric, on the condition that he didn't cripple Eric.
Eric, on the other hand, was the cash cow of the circus. He could perform magic, ventriloquism, and singing.
So, here came the question.
If Eric was really as terrifying as described on the tent, how could Mac and the manager treat him that way?
Leona's mind was in a mess. She turned around and started rummaging through the tent - it was a small tent, half a covered wagon and half waterproof oilcloth, covered with mold spots.
There was a blanket on the ground, its original color indiscernible. The sleeping bag was still clean, but it gave off a damp, sweaty smell, disgusting.
Leona rummaged for a long time but couldn't find any useful information.
For example, whose body was this? Why did she disguise herself as a boy and steal Mac's gold pocket watch?
What was the relationship between the original owner and Eric?
She took a deep breath and focused her attention on the sleeping bag.
There was an opening on the sleeping bag, seemingly for someone to crawl into to sleep, with a name embroidered on the edge: Leona Clifford.
Good, she knew her name now.
This was a good start.
Leona closed her eyes and reached into the sleeping bag, feeling a notebook.
When she took it out, it was a thin book sewn together with coarse hemp thread. The paper was rough and yellowish, and you could see the slightly raised fibers on it.
She flipped open the first page.
September 3, 1888
I lost my diary. Maybe Mac and the others threw it away. Who knows? They can't read and hate those who can.
They also hate Eric, but they dare not mess with him.
I don't want to get beaten anymore. Why do they always beat me?
September 8, 1888
The nanny beat me many times, so many times, saying my hands weren't fast enough. She made me watch Eric.
He didn't even touch the person and managed to take the wallet. How is that possible?
It must be witchcraft. Otherwise, why does he always wear a mask?
He's the only one here who wears a mask.
September 9, 1888
I got beaten again. Why always me?
September 10, 1888
Getting beaten, getting beaten, getting beaten. I always get beaten. Why always me? Why why why.
The nanny is praising Eric again. Although Mac hates him, he rarely bullies him. I really hate him.
I hate Eric.
September 20, 1888
Mac's watch is missing. Only Eric could have stolen it without anyone noticing. We hope Eric will hand over the gold pocket watch. Eric didn't say a word.
I don't know if it's just my imagination, but during dinner, he looked at me.
What's he looking at? He's the best thief here.
September 8, 1888
Why does he always look at me?
October 5, 1888
Why does he keep looking at me?
October 8, 1888
Why? Why do I clearly bury it, but it still appears on my bed? Why why why why!
I'm going crazy.
He's still watching me. He's always watching me.
His eyes glow.
He's a monster.
October 9, 1888
He wants to kill me.
He will definitely kill me. Those are eyes that can kill.
What should I do?
I need to resist. How should I resist?
Mac? The manager? The nanny?
No, no, none of them.
October 11, 1888
How long was he standing behind me? One minute? Two minutes? Half an hour?
Or has he always been there?
He's a madman, a madman, a madman!
October 12, 1888
I clearly threw it into the swamp, surrounded by crocodiles. Why did it still end up in my bed?
What exactly does he want to do? What exactly does he want to do? What exactly does he want to do?
...This was the last page. The handwriting gradually became messy and heavy, with ink seeping through several sheets of paper.
Leona felt a chill down her spine.
The original owner had a low level of education, with simple wording and sentence structures.
But even with such straightforward descriptions, she couldn't help but shiver, feeling a tightness from her back to her scalp, as if someone was really standing behind her.
Should she believe what was written above?
Leona read the diary again.
Both the original owner and Eric were at the bottom of the circus.
The only difference was that Eric was more talented than the original owner - stealing faster and knowing more tricks. She had become the lowest of the low. The nanny and Mac didn't like her.
Over time, she grew to hate Eric, even wishing for Eric to take her punishment.
Thus, she stole Mac's gold pocket watch and framed Eric.
The original owner was cautious and didn't keep the gold pocket watch on her. Instead, she buried it in the ground, but after some time, the gold pocket watch suddenly returned to her.
It was at this moment that her mental state began to deteriorate, feeling as if Eric was watching her and wanting to kill her.
She was so scared that she threw the gold pocket watch into the swamp, but the next day it was back.
After that, there was no more diary. Either the original owner completely lost her mind, or she had traveled through time.
No matter what, she finally knew the era she was in - 1888, the late 19th century, during the Second Industrial Revolution.
No wonder the original owner could write a diary; paper mills were clearly already in existence at this time.
Leona put down the diary, feeling a bit lost.
So, what should she do now?
The original owner stole Mac's gold pocket watch and framed Eric. Eric was then tortured by Mac until he was almost unrecognizable.
Most importantly, the gold pocket watch was still on her.
She was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place, with nowhere to go.
If she sided with Mac, the gold pocket watch would become a ticking time bomb.
If she tried to win over Eric...
Leona lowered her eyelashes.
Every word and sentence of the original owner told her not to trust Eric.
Eric could kill her at any moment.
But watching from the sidelines, she felt that Eric was more valuable and worth winning over than Mac or anyone else in the circus.
The only problem now was how to win him over.
At that moment, a burst of noise interrupted her thoughts.
Leona was startled and quickly hid the diary, walking to the side of the tent curtain to look outside.
She saw a group of people pushing and shoving their way over, with the stench of alcohol, sweat, and cheap tobacco mixed together, making her feel nauseous.
"Is this thing really falling from the sky?"
"Do you think there's magic on it?"
"If it had magic, would you be able to pick it up?"
"I'm talking about the kind of magic in the city. Have you ever been to Fifth Avenue? There's a guy there who put lightning in a glass ball... At night, it's so bright!"
"Putting lightning in a glass ball? Isn't that just a gas lamp?"
"Idiot, I'm talking about electric lights, much more advanced than gas lamps!"
The widespread use of electric lights was indeed around 1888.
Great. Leona sighed silently. If she had traveled to the Middle Ages, facing arsenic face cream and leech whitening, she might have chosen to end her life.
The next moment, she suddenly realized what was in the hands of the group. Her eyes widened.
Wait, wasn't that her backpack?
What was going on?
She had traveled into the body of this girl disguised as a boy, but her backpack had come along with her.
Did this mean... she could still go back?
In the darkness, the group surrounded the campfire, carefully examining her backpack.
Someone took out a dagger and scratched it a couple of times, but because it was cut-resistant fabric, after scratching for a long time, only a shallow mark was left.
The person seemed to find it strange, spat to the side, and left.
However, there were also some curious people who refused to give up, constantly trying to find a way to open it.
Fortunately, her bag had a hidden buckle lock, which even modern people would find difficult to open without any knowledge, let alone people from the 19th century.
Half an hour later, the group finally gave up, cursing and throwing the backpack aside, hugging their shotguns and bottles of liquor, and dozing off.
Leona watched this scene, her breathing gradually quickening.
Her opportunity had arrived.
There was everything in the backpack. First aid kit, snacks, canned food, tissues, spare phone, power bank... Other things could be dealt with later, but the first aid kit was essential.
With these, she could save Eric.