So, she stole Mike Harris's gold pocket watch and framed Eric Carter for it.

The original owner was very cautious and didn’t keep the gold pocket watch on her, but buried it in the ground. Who would have thought that after some time, the gold pocket watch would suddenly return to her possession.

It was at this point that her mental state began to deteriorate—she felt that Eric Carter was watching her, wanting to kill her.

Terrified, she threw the gold pocket watch into the swamp, but the next day, it still came back.

After that, there were no more diary entries. Either the original owner had completely lost her mind, or she had transmigrated.

Anyone who read this diary would think that Eric Carter was an extremely patient hunter.

He was almost calm, toying with the original owner like a cat plays with a mouse.

What Lily Bennett couldn’t figure out was, if Eric Carter had the ability to drive someone insane with fear, why would he have been dragged behind a horse by Mike Harris?

If he didn’t have such abilities, then how could the diary and the words on the tent be explained?

What benefit did the original owner gain by describing Eric Carter as so terrifying?

Most importantly, why did the gold pocket watch keep returning to its original place?

Or perhaps, the thing “buried well” in the diary wasn’t the gold pocket watch at all.

Lily Bennett still couldn’t come to a conclusion.

In any case, she finally knew what era she was in—1888, the late nineteenth century, during the Second Industrial Revolution.

No wonder the original owner could keep a diary; there were clearly already paper mills at this time.

Lily Bennett put down the diary, feeling a bit lost.

So, what should she do now?

The original owner stole Mike Harris's gold pocket watch and framed Eric Carter. Eric Carter was then tortured by Mike Harris until he was unrecognizable.

Most importantly, the gold pocket watch was still on her.

She was truly caught in a dilemma, with nowhere to go.

If she turned to Mike Harris, the gold pocket watch would become a ticking time bomb.

If she tried to win over Eric Carter...

Lily Bennett lowered her lashes.

Every word and sentence from the original owner was telling her not to trust Eric Carter.

Eric Carter could kill her at any moment.

But as an outsider, she felt that Eric Carter was more valuable and worth winning over than Mike Harris or anyone else in the circus.

The only question now was, how could she win him over?

At that moment, a commotion interrupted her thoughts.

Lily Bennett was startled, quickly hid the diary, walked to the tent flap, and looked outside.

She saw a group of people shoving each other as they walked over, the air thick with the nauseating mix of alcohol, sweat, and cheap tobacco.

“Did this thing really fall from the sky?”

“Do you think there’s magic on it?”

“If it had magic, would it let you pick it up?”

“I mean the kind of magic from the city. Have you ever been to Fifth Avenue? There’s a guy there who puts lightning inside a glass ball... At night, it’s as bright as day!”

“Putting lightning in a glass ball—that’s just a gas lamp, isn’t it?”

“Idiot, I’m talking about electric lights! They’re way fancier than those lousy gas lamps!”

The spread of electric lights did indeed happen around 1888.

It seemed she really had traveled to the late nineteenth century.

Thank goodness. Lily Bennett let out a silent sigh of relief. If she had ended up in the Middle Ages, facing arsenic face powder and leech whitening, she might have chosen death.

The next moment, she suddenly saw what the group was holding, and her eyes widened.

Wait, wasn’t that her hiking backpack?

What was going on?

She had transmigrated into the body of this girl disguised as a boy, but her hiking backpack had come along with her.

Did this mean... she could still go back?

In the darkness, the group gathered around the campfire, carefully examining her hiking backpack.

Someone pulled out a knife and tried to cut it, but since it was made of cut-resistant fabric, after a long while, there was only a faint mark.

That person seemed to think it was strange, spat to the side, and walked away.

But some, driven by curiosity, refused to give up and kept trying to find a way to open it.

Fortunately, her bag had a hidden lock, and even modern people would have a hard time opening it without any knowledge, let alone people from the nineteenth century.

Half an hour later, the group finally gave up, cursing as they tossed the backpack aside, then hugged their shotguns and bottles and dozed off.

Lily Bennett watched this scene, her breathing gradually quickening.

Her chance had come.

Her hiking backpack had everything: a first aid kit, snacks, canned food, tissues, a backup phone, a power bank... She could ignore everything else for now, but she had to get the first aid kit.

If she remembered correctly, the first aid kit contained bandages, water purification tablets, energy bars, ibuprofen, electrolyte water, antibiotics, hemostatic powder, iodine swabs, and an emergency blanket.

With these, she could save Eric Carter.

Chapter 3

Lily Bennett cautiously waited another ten minutes, until the group had finally fallen completely asleep.

They were probably circus guards, with beards stained black, dirty fingernails, battered hats on their heads, and hunting knives and keys hanging from their belts.

What made her most tense was the old-fashioned rifle standing upright beside them.

She could even see the oil used for maintenance on the barrel.