Previously, I've stated that in the "real world," I was an ordinary, unremarkable person with no noteworthy strengths or accomplishments.
Those with little experience in the world might think that an average person, upon arriving in another world, could leverage their informational advantage to achieve great things.
In reality, the probability of such smooth progression depends greatly on the type of otherworldly setting. If it's a world filled with intricate mental battles, others will scrutinize your words and actions, adapt their behavior, and create a butterfly effect. The "information gap" is insufficient on its own and can quickly become a useless card. It's incredibly difficult for an ordinary person with average intelligence to get ahead.
As the weaker party, self-awareness is the most crucial quality.
After much thought, besides the valuable but limited information gap, my other unique advantage is—time.
Time can change a person, foster growth, and teach you the knowledge necessary for survival.
Of course, the survival knowledge acquired will vary depending on individual aptitude.
For me, it's "playing dumb."
Intelligence is the hardest trait to fake. The thought processes of intelligent people are not easily understood by ordinary individuals; experts can tell with a single test.
"Playing dumb," however, has a very low barrier to entry. Almost everyone pretends to be foolish when needed.
Even intelligent people will feign ignorance appropriately, a tactic known as "playing the pig to eat the tiger."
Someone like me, who is self-aware, would never delusionally attempt "playing the pig to eat the tiger." This is because ordinary people "play dumb" for better survival, to lower their opponent's guard and hostility. It's a defensive strategy that usually doesn't consider counter-killing.
"Time" equals "experience." Regarding "playing dumb," my ample time spent in the "real world" has made me incredibly experienced.
Oh, right, my experience in reading fanfiction is also quite extensive.
After entering this otherworldly game, I've been diligently recalling and summarizing the "experiences" of predecessors.
Although those "experiences" are fictional, the plots aren't entirely fabricated. They incorporate the life experiences of various authors and their understanding and extrapolation of the original setting. When you round it off, it's essentially valuable "life experience" in an otherworldly context.
Among these, the "information gap"—the greatest advantage for a transmigrator—is the most common pitfall that leads to their downfall.
Countless transmigrators have inadvertently revealed their "information gap" through a mere glance, a gesture, or a few words. Consequently, they are seen through by the inhabitants of the world, instantly losing their advantage and becoming constantly controlled, like fish on a chopping board, drastically increasing their survival difficulty.
Since I have the shoulders of my predecessors to stand on, I cannot afford to squander their numerous "sacrifices." I must become a more advanced, modernized "player," striving to avoid repeating their mistakes.
Indeed, as a more advanced method, "playing dumb" is the most suitable for me.
A child over a year old is not expected to display excessive intelligence that would draw attention. Being foolish is safer than being intelligent.
I haven't heard of the Zoldyck family resorting to inhumane actions like killing their children for not being smart enough.
Do not display intelligence beyond your age, do not display knowledge beyond your experience—ignorance is the safest survival rule.
Don't know.
Completely don't know.
Whenever asked a question, the first response should be "I don't know." Treat "I don't know" as a conditioned reflex; it will never lead you astray.
Therefore, when Silva asked me with the whistle, "Do you know how to use it?", the results of my constant self-suggestion came into play. Appropriately conveyed ignorance and confusion are my trump card for "meeting all changes with constancy."
Perhaps to avoid noise pollution, Silva led me to the back mountain. The scenery along the way was already very familiar to me from my days of wandering aimlessly. It seemed he was quite aware of my preferred routes.
He was also well aware of my pace. My short legs as a toddler of just over a year could naturally keep up with his stride.
I estimate Silva's height to be close to two meters. When looking up at him, I always felt a strain in my neck. Furthermore, his pupils are vertical. Some people have suspected he has beastkin blood. If that's the case, what has the Zoldyck family done to beasts... cough, getting off-topic.
Reaching an open area in the mountain forest, Silva picked me up and sat me in the crook of his left arm. Then, he took the whistle I wore around my neck and explained, "You can use this to help you make sounds."
He slowed his movements, allowing me to see clearly how he blew the whistle.
The sound produced by the whistle was clear and not harsh, traveling far.
After a long note, he followed it with a short one. As the whistle's echo faded, I heard other sounds approaching from above, and then I recognized them: the flapping of bird wings.
Although this world is an异世界 (otherworld), many creatures are still the same as in the "real world." Thus, I recognized the approaching bird as an eagle.
"It will obey the whistle's commands," Silva said. "From now on, it's yours."
"You can use it to help you send messages," he said, pointing to a miniature message tube tied to the eagle's leg, "or for anything else you like."
The Zoldyck family has considerable expertise in training animals, and this eagle is the best testament to their training level. As long as the whistle is blown according to the specified method, it will accurately perform the corresponding actions. All twenty-four commands were executed flawlessly, making circus owners weep with envy (laughs).
Then, Silva demonstrated two other functions of the whistle to me.
One function was to adjust the whistle's pitch by unscrewing the sonic wave adjustment screw at the top of the whistle and changing the length of the adjustment rod.
The second function was to send Morse code. The dragon head connecting the whistle to the thin chain was not merely decorative but fashioned into a button that produced a "da da" sound when pressed.
"There's quite a bit of Morse code to learn, so we'll teach you later when you need it," Silva added.
Having absorbed a large amount of information in a short time, I nodded with a dazed expression. Silva likely didn't expect a toddler over a year old to understand all his explanations. Without asking if I understood, he raised his free right arm, allowing the eagle to perch on his right arm guard, and moved it closer to me.
While the eagle performed its commanded actions, I had been itching to touch this well-behaved bird.
The eagle offered no resistance, remaining still as I petted its head, beak, and the feathers on its wings... Wow, in the "real world," I could only see eagles on TV or in zoos. I never imagined I'd have the chance to touch one someday. This feeling was amazing!
It was so amazing that I couldn't hold back. Since I couldn't make a sound, I realized I was grinning from ear to ear, my facial muscles stretching... "…!"
After more than a year, Melurse, who was usually poker-faced (or rather, wore a look of complete apathy), actually smiled. Even Silva, whose presence usually commanded respect, had some of his sternness replaced by surprise.
Stop being surprised, it's embarrassing!
"As expected, Mill likes small animals," Silva quickly regained his usual composure. "This is the first time I've seen you smile."
"…" I lowered my head, fumbling in my pocket while adjusting my composure.
When I took out the small biscuits I usually carried while wandering around, I had already regained some semblance of normalcy. However, under the gaze of Silva, one of the Zoldyck family's dungeon bosses, my movements were still a little shy. I broke off a small piece of biscuit and carefully offered it to the eagle.
Before the eagle could eat the biscuit, Silva suddenly raised his right hand, and the eagle, losing its perch, flew back into the air.
"?" More than embarrassment, I felt confusion.
Silva, one of the dungeon bosses and the current head of the Zoldyck family, wouldn't do things without reason.
"You can't feed it this," Silva pushed my hand, holding the biscuit, back towards me, all the way to my mouth.
So, I took the opportunity to put the biscuit into my mouth.
"If you feed it, it will die," Silva said.
"?" Even without my "I don't know" reflex, my face was a picture of bewilderment.
"Die," Silva continued to explain, "meaning you'll never see it again."
"????" I was still foolishly chewing the biscuit in my mouth.
"You can't give this to others either," Silva pointed to the remaining biscuits in my hand and continued, "because it's poisonous. Others will also die."
"???????????"
The small biscuits in my hand suddenly lost their crispy, delicious appeal.