Semua Bab The Seventh Life Of The Soulbound Villainess: Bab 11 - Bab 12

I was born knowing how to survive. Not in the way people mean when they say that — as a compliment, as a testament to resilience or spirit or the particular heroism of the human will. I mean it literally: my first memory is calculating, at age four, which mining shift supervisor was least likely to dock pay for a child eating from the communal ration line. My second memory is executing that calculation correctly. By six I knew which tunnels flooded during the rainy season and which stayed dry. By nine I knew the colony's three unofficial power structures, the names of the people who ran them, and which favors were worth asking for versus which would cost more than I could afford to repay. This was what surviving looked like on Verath Colony Seven. Verath Seven was a dying world. Not metaphorically — the planet's core had been cooling for a century, the tectonic instability increasing yearly, the mining infrastructure that had built the colony's original economic case becoming le