The first thing I noticed was the smell—incense, sweat, and something metallic. Blood? My vision swam as silk ropes bit into my wrists. "The fat sow dares look at the Emperor?" a woman sneered. I blinked up at the painted ceiling, my heart pounding. This wasn’t the lab. This wasn’t 2147. I was in a palace, dressed like a concubine, my body heavy, alien. A child—my son, somehow—cried in the corner, guards mocking his size. Then it hit me: the experiment worked. I’d crossed time. And judging by the hunger in their eyes, they wanted us gone. I closed my eyes, reaching for the only thing I had left—the neural link. "Activate Time-Space Supermarket," I whispered. A hologram flickered: 'Welcome, Member Grace. Today’s Special: Metabolic Reset Kits.'

My fingers trembled. One purchase could save us. But if I used it too soon, they’d know I was different. Dangerous. The door creaked open. Footsteps approached. I had seconds to decide: take the kit and risk exposure, bargain with the servants for scraps, or pretend I belonged in this hell.