Lily Bennett began to worry—had something happened to him? If yesterday was just a final burst of energy before death, how was she supposed to escape from here?

After lunch, the men went off to the side to smoke and chat loudly; the women cleaned up the dishes and mended clothes. A few people gathered around her hiking backpack, trying to figure out how to open it.

Manager also went over to take a look. But he wasn’t very interested in the backpack, exchanged a few words, and then left.

The afternoon sun dispersed the thick fog, and the view became much clearer.

Only then did Lily Bennett remember that they seemed to have camped near a swamp. The air was as damp as a soaked towel, and not far away there was a river—its water unfathomably deep, a green so dark it was unsettling, surrounded by swarms of buzzing mosquitoes.

Lily Bennett could swim, but jumping into a river like that would be suicide.

Besides, the original owner’s diary had mentioned that there were crocodiles nearby.

Apart from that, there were two exits from the camp, both guarded by men with rifles. One of the exits even had a horse trough.

Lily Bennett had never been around horses before and didn’t know they were so easily startled—just the scent of a stranger could make them rear up and whinny in alarm.

So, she would either have to become a horse-whisperer in a very short time, or she could only leave through the other exit without the horse trough.

It was just too difficult.

Lily Bennett had considered, like the protagonists in time-travel novels, giving Manager a few modern playlists to boost her status in the circus.

But all of that was based on the premise that Manager wouldn’t turn other people’s fetuses into specimens, and that there was no tradition here of burning witches at the stake.

After all, in the nineteenth century, abortion was illegal, yet Manager dared to risk life imprisonment to display unborn fetuses.

It was hard for Lily Bennett not to wonder if he had committed even worse crimes… like murder?

Even if, taking a step back, her negotiations with Manager went extremely smoothly, it would only tie her more tightly to the circus, with no other benefit.

She didn’t know the exact age of this body—at most, sixteen.

Would Manager respect a sixteen-year-old, give her a fair share and proper treatment?

Obviously not.

After thinking it over, Lily Bennett once again turned her gaze toward Eric Carter’s tent.

Other than him, she really didn’t seem to have any other options.

—Should she take a gamble?

But soon, a new problem arose.

When the evening party began, Eric Carter still hadn’t appeared. His tent was dark, not a single glimmer of light.

Lily Bennett felt a bit anxious, but didn’t dare show it.

Compared to lunch, the party food was downright lavish: beer, fruit wine, pies, smoked ham, roasted potatoes, blood sausage, and meat pudding.

Lily Bennett had wanted to try the meat pudding, but before she even got close, the smell of suet and lamb kidney hit her, making her take a big step back. The others, however, ate with great relish.

Being picky now would do her no good.

Lily Bennett forced herself to take some pie and roasted potatoes, held her breath, and swallowed them down with fruit wine.

After a cup of fruit wine, her stiff mind became much more active.

She was being too cautious—afraid to speak, afraid to meet anyone’s eyes. Even though she knew there was something wrong with the brother of the “four-legged girl” Emily Foster, she didn’t dare to ask for information.

On the surface, she seemed calm, but in reality, she was terrified—afraid of revealing something different about herself and being interrogated and judged by those around her.

This couldn’t go on.

She had to take the initiative and do something the original owner would never do, to see if she could change her current situation.

Suddenly, a burst of enthusiastic applause erupted from ahead.

Manager pushed Emily Foster’s wheelchair into the crowd. He waved to everyone, beaming: “Emily Foster is about to leave, and she wants to sing one last song for everyone—does anyone want to sing along with her?”

Many people raised their hands, and the band struck up a lively tune. People gathered around the bonfire, singing and dancing. Lily Bennett had never heard this song before; it was probably a local folk tune.

While everyone was watching Emily Foster, Lily Bennett turned and walked toward Eric Carter’s tent.

But just as she turned around, she saw his thin figure.

In the darkness, his white mask was glaringly conspicuous, the two eye holes as blank and hollow as those of a wax doll, radiating a kind of indifferent detachment.

He silently watched the crowd, lost in thought.

As if sensing Lily Bennett’s gaze, the next moment, he met her eyes.

It was like a bucket of ice water poured over her head—Lily Bennett felt a chill run from the back of her head all the way down to her feet, and instinctively wanted to take a step back.

But she gripped her wine cup tightly and suppressed the urge to run.

—She had to take the initiative and do something the original owner would never do.

So what if Eric Carter was the Phantom of the Opera?

He didn’t know she was no longer Polly Clément, but she knew his background, his pain—no one appreciated his talent, and no one would get close to him.

He couldn’t even get love from his own mother, which was why he was as wild and rough as an untamed beast.

She remembered how, in the original story, the heroine subdued him.

A kiss.

Just a single kiss was enough to make him yield and give up everything he could have had.

A bold idea gradually took shape in her mind.