No. [She pauses.] Dahut, I'm not a real person. It feels like it here, because I've been taken out of my home, but I'm not.

I live in the world of story. I exist because someone wrote about me. And I keep existing because they keep telling my story. I can live as many times as I am written about, give or take.

[The details are a bit murky, probably subject to change and not exactly as she understands them. But that's the gist, and it's the rule she'll live by until she finds a way to break it.]