She forced the thoughts back down, burying them deep within her mind those poisonous whispers that told her there was no hope of ever returning home.
Because they were right.
In this body, with a broken Anchor, there was no way to save herself.
Only the slow, inevitable surrender to the disease as it devoured her from the inside.
All she could do was wait and wait for her body to crumble under the weight of its own curse.
If only she had been born with an proper Anchor…
With one, the crushing burden on her body and mind could have been eased.
The excess essence would have been regulated, the strain cut down to something almost normal.
An Anchor could have been her salvation her body's relief, her lifeline.
But she hadn't been given that chance.
Her chest tightened as the reality pressed down on her.
All the power-ups.
all the knowledge she had gained from playing the game… completely useless now.
What good were strategies, shortcuts, or hidden secrets when the very body she inhabited couldn't even handle the basics of power of the world? Without a proper Anchor, she couldn't channel essence, couldn't fight, couldn't even defend herself if danger came knocking.
In this world, she wasn't a player. She was just a is useless person fated to lost before the game had even truly begun.
But…
Even though her heart was weighed down by gloom, and the path ahead promised nothing but hardship and suffering, there was still hope.
It was small fragile and faint like a tiny flame struggling to stay alive in a stormy night. Yet she clung to it, as if it were her final thread connecting her to the future.
Because even the weakest hope could become a tool a tool that might one day lead her to salvation.
And that hope came in the form of medicine.
Yes, there was a medicine no cure for Blood River Illness.
Though the illness was rare and didn't affect large numbers of people, there existed a treatment that could help those afflicted. It couldn't cure the main problem of no having a anchor, but it could stabilize the body for a short while, regulating the flow of blood within and easing the strain that tore patients apart from the inside.
For someone like Yuzuki, whose very existence was slipping away… it was the only lifeline she had.
But as with all things, there was a price.
The medicine for Blood River Illness was outrageously expensive and it had to be taken every single week. Missing even one dose meant the body would revert back to its unstable, agonizing state, as if the medicine had never been used at all.
There was nothing Yuzuki could do but endure the pain and somehow find a way to earn money enough to keep buying the medicine that barely kept her alive.
A faint groan escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, her thoughts spiralling into despair. The cost was crushing, enough to ruin anyone who wasn't wealthy or at least comfortably above middle class.
But Yuzuki… she was neither.
She wasn't rich enough to afford the full dose. What she managed to receive was little more than a careful barely enough to last a single week, and far from the required amount her body truly needed.
It was a cruel game of survival, and she was already on the losing side.
"Ahh…" Her lips trembled as she whispered to herself, "…there's so little I know about earning money."
Her fingers clenched tightly at her sides, nails digging into her palms until she felt the sting. Money… medicine… survival. Those three words circled endlessly in her mind, drowning out everything else.
It was unfair.
Unfair that others were born with anchors.
Unfair that she had been thrown into this fragile, broken shell.
Unfair that the price of her life was measured in coins she didn't have.
Her chest tightened, not from the illness this time, but from the suffocating weight of resentment.
The thought of returning to Earth, to her parents, felt like a distant, impossible dream like it belonged to another life.
The more she dwelled on her situation, the more unreachable it seemed. Every step she needed to take, every tool she required to survive, was beyond her grasp. It all felt… impossibly unattainable.
A lump rose in her throat, choking her, making every breath shallow, every thought heavy. Speaking or even thinking felt impossible.
She gritted her teeth and forced her fragile, bandaged hand into a trembling fist.
Her nails bit deep into her skin, and tiny drops of blood slid down her palm.
Her eyes lifted, drawn irresistibly to the cracked mirror.
An saw the reflection of herself.
Just why… why did she have to transmigrate into this body?
Of all the possibilities she could have woken up as a side character, a villainess, even a nameless extra and she would have accepted it. But fate had other plans. It was as if the world had looked directly at her, laughed, and shoved her into the shell of a dying side character whose only purpose was to further the development of the main character and the heroine's love story.
A hollow laugh nearly escaped her lips. It was too cruel, too absurd.
Just why… why this body? This poor, useless body?
Had she been reborn as a villainess, a minor noble, or even an expendable extra, she could have accepted it. She could have played the role, bent fate to her will, maybe even thrived.
But no.
Her luck was as miserable as it could be. She had been thrown into a body destined to die a mere footnote in someone else's story.
Her chest tightened, the pressure spreading like fire through her veins. A suffocating, crushing weight pressed down on her entire body.
And then… the reflection in the mirror moved. Her own lips curled, whispering to her in a voice that wasn't entirely her own:
"Stop struggling. Accept it. Die slowly… die cruelly… so the story can stay on its rightful track."
Her breathing grew ragged. Her nails dug deeper into her palms, seeking any pain anything to drown out the suffocating voice urging her to surrender.
Because if she gave up now if she surrendered without fighting, without clawing her way through this cursed body's torment then her entire life before this would mean nothing.
She had to give everything.
Every ounce of strength.
Every drop of willpower.
If she died after that… then so be it.
At least she could die knowing she had resisted, knowing she hadn't bowed to fate.
But if she gave up now, without even trying… she wouldn't just be betraying her parents.
She would be betraying herself.
A small, choked breath escaped her cracked lips as she licked the tiny trickle of blood there, her black eyes burning with defiance.
"If the path I have to walk is full of nails, I will still walk it. As a life filled with pain is still better than dying like an ant. I will survive… I will endure… until I find my way back home or die trying."
She whispered the words to herself; her gaze locked on the figure in the mirror.
Her eyes met her reflection's those hollow, black orbs that didn't feel like hers staring back with a gaze colder than the room itself.
For a moment, a shiver ran down her spine. But as the initial shock faded, Yuzuki realized something: she had moved past the hurdles in her mind.
She knew what she had to do next.
And what was the first step?
That's right take a shower. More precisely… a hot shower.
Looking down at herself, Yuzuki noticed her clothes were soaked in blood, the stench clinging to her like a second skin. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of it over her.
Slowly, she removed the garments, revealing a body so small and frail it that seemed that she hadn't eaten properly in years. Her chest was flat, bones starkly visible beneath pale skin, bruises blooming across her frame.
Some were part of her body had dark blue colour on it , likely from broken tissue or bones caused by fights with other children her age scraps of food or meagre possessions often sparking brutal conflicts. To an outsider, such struggles might seem trivial, but to someone living in hunger and desperation, even a single garbage could feel like gold.
Examining herself further, Yuzuki noticed more wounds knife slashes, scars, and areas where bandages had once covered deep injuries.
All in all, it was clear: her body was far from healthy.
And yet… somehow, she had to use this week, fragile vessel to survive and to find her way back home.
With that thought, she turned on the faucet. Warm water poured over her, stinging her bruised skin like a thousand tiny needles. Her frail body nearly buckled under the spray, trembling as shallow breaths echoed through the cramped bathroom.
The water carried the blood away, dark streaks trailing along her arms and legs before spiraling down the drain. Steam rose thickly, shrouding the room in a hazy veil. At first, the heat felt unbearable, but little by little, Yuzuki's body began to acclimate, finding a strange, fleeting comfort in the suffocating warmth.
Yet no matter how much she washed, the pain beneath her skin remained the bruises, the scars, the reminders etched permanently into her body.
Her hand pressed against her ribs, just above her heart. She could feel its steady rhythm. I am still alive, she thought.
Slowly, her fingers traced the sharp outline of bone, then slid lower toward the place where her Broken Anchor was.
But there was nothing but wrongness
The broken ache gnawed at her from the inside, but Yuzuki refused to let it break her.
I may be weak.
I may be incomplete.
But I will not surrender.
The path ahead would be brutal, she told herself, turning off the faucet.
She stepped out of the shower, droplets clinging to her pale, frail skin, and faced the fogged mirror. Carefully, she wiped it clean, her fingers moving cautiously to avoid the jagged edges of the cracked glass.
What stared back at her was a body still battered and far from healthy but compared to how she had been before, it was something she could at least bear. At least now, I'm clean, she thought bitterly, her eyes darting around the room in search of a towel.
A frown quickly formed as the realization hit: she hadn't brought one. Not even a change of clothes. In her rush to wash away the blood, she had entered the bathroom unprepared.
"Ha… ah…" A hollow chuckle slipped from her lips at the absurdity of it all.
With no other choice, she pushed open the door and stepped out. Droplets of water slid down her bare skin, falling one by one, leaving a wet trail across the floor as she moved.
The cool air outside the bathroom brushed against her damp skin, making her shiver. Each step left behind darkened prints of her small feet on the wooden floorboards. Clutching her arms around herself more out of instinct than modesty, Yuzuki hurried across the room in search of a set of clothes.
--
life is full of hardship and suffering
only the rich who are the one that don't sufferer