Jade’s trip to secure a spot for her biscuit stall succeeded at the very first shop she visited. She had expected to check at least five places, probably spend a good amount of time persuading shopkeepers, then drag herself back to the domus late in the evening, and reach her room just as the sun set.

  Now that her business in Velport was finished, she could head straight back… or, she could linger near the grocery district, spend an hour or two familiarising herself with the local culture and people before finally setting off.

  Walking along the flagstone pavements, Jade studied the lamppost lining the street, feeling a twinge of regret that she wouldn’t get to see them lit at night. They say it runs on gas, I wonder how that actually works…Surely they won’t explode, right? She quickly shook away the mental image of fiery streetlamps detonating and turned her attention back to the bustling road.

  People of all ages moved along the street, though men clearly outnumbered women. Most women she saw arrived and departed by carriage, dressed neatly in hooped skirts - there was a proper term for that, she knew, but she couldn’t recall it. Not that it mattered; she didn’t wear one, and no one at the domus owned such a thing anyway. They were beautiful, in her opinion, but looked like a nightmare for anyone trying to walk at speed.

  The women on foot were another matter entirely. Dressed mostly in black and white, they were either maids - or poor. Like her.

  Jade’s clothes weren’t ragged, but they were plain: dull-coloured fabric chosen specifically so stains wouldn’t stand out, with a few carefully patched spots here and there* as the garment was second-hand, donated by the farm ladies who lived near the domus, so a few holes and tears were to be expected. She had carefully patched these spots with subtle decorative patterns, masking the repairs so that at first glance, the small details went unnoticed. She didn't look as destitute as her students, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t living comfortably either.

  As she walked, many passersby met her gaze with neutral expressions. Others frowned, wrinkling their noses in clear distaste.

  Okay, yeah, definitely not my target audience for biscuits. Jade mentally divided the streets into categories, quietly labeling buildings as “places my students can promote the biscuits” and “places they definitely should not go near”.

  She tuned in to the sounds around her. Gentlemen chuckled as they discussed club gossip. Maids counting shillings under their breath, complaining about rising prices. Well-dressed ladies pausing before a millinery, instructing their maids to deliver tea party invitations. Children in worn clothes clustered together - some glaring at rival groups, others forming uneasy alliances. Jade could only guess that each group controlled different territories for selling newspapers or offering small services.

  She caught sight of one of Mr. Anderson’s students - a boy who appeared to be the leader of a small pack of five. The sight left her with mixed feelings. This was how future gang leaders started, she knew. The early outlines of something dangerous were usually formed for the sake of self-protection: a way to avoid being bullied by larger groups with who shared the same desperate interest in earning a living.

  Well… there isn’t much I can do except teach them, and give them a better option than a life surrounded by the flashes of blades and glints of guns. Jade mused as she continued her walk, absently considering whether she needed to buy anything.

  That was when she noticed the nobleman - Lord Ashborne - walking not far ahead of her.

  As the teacher of a ragged school - a charity institution perpetually dependent on wealthy benefactors - Jade decided in less than a millisecond that she should reinforce their school’s relationship with one of their primary patrons by striking up a conversation.

  Admittedly, she still had no idea what his actual occupation was, how much wealth he possessed, or how exactly he earned his living. Even rich guys need a job, right? Still, being polite never hurt anyone.

  So she quickened her pace.

  “Good day, Sir. Nice to see you here!” It sounded a little fake, but honestly, it was the best she could manage.

  Lord Ashborne looked more shocked than surprised. “Miss Jade? How did you–” He cut himself off. “We should speak elsewhere.”

  “?”

  Before she could respond, the man gripped her shoulder, turned her smoothly, and guided her to walk beside him. His free hand lifted to the brim of his hat, tilting it at an angle that clearly avoided someone’s line of sight.

  He does not look like the relaxed gentleman who visited the domus. He was tense - hurried, even.

  Jade blinked at him - and only then did she realise that this Lord was dressed quite differently than she remembered from his last visit.

  He usually wore clothing made from luxurious fabrics. Jade didn't know the proper names, but anything that looked like silk or came in vivid colour was definitely expensive. He also tended to be draped in gold or silver accessories.

  The Lord Ashborne walking beside her now looked nothing like that.

  His clothes were darker, plainer, with almost no accessories at all… far closer to what Mr. Secretary would normally wear.

  Jade studied the nobleman more closely. He was clearly nervous, perhaps even frustrated. His lips were pressed tight, and his gaze flicked backward now and then. He was alone. Mr. Trent - who usually clung to him like a shadow - was nowhere in sight.

  And then it clicked.

  He swapped clothes with his secretary.

  Which meant Mr. Trent was out there doing something else with his clothes on!

  But why?

  “Miss Jade, my apologies for my rudeness earlier,” Ashborne said once they reached a quiet, grimy alley. “Thank you for remaining silent. It was most helpful. I won’t delay you any further. We shall pat here.”

  “Wait!” Jade grabbed his arm before he could bolt. “Somebody’s after you?”

  They way his eyes widened and his mouth parted just slightly told her everything.

  She lowered her voice. “An assassin?”

  In the span of a heartbeat, her mind spiraled. Political power struggles, Hidden daggers. Nobles sabotaging one another. Spies, traps, quiet executions. Officials exiled to border fortresses, torture for information, beheaded once they outlived their usefulness… Every historical webnovel and C-palace drama she’d ever consumed flooded her thoughts.

  Her pulse quickened as she stared at him.

  “No,” Ashborne said, then hesitated. “… But I’m not certain.” He stopped himself before saying more. His expression hardened. “This has nothing to do with you, Miss Jade. We will part ways here. No harm will come to you.”

  Yeah, right. That’s never how it works.

  Jade pressed her lips together. If he died…

  Would whoever was pulling the strings leave the domus alone? Or would they erase anything that might help him return - or avenge him? For those in power, silencing a group of commoners would be effortless. *

  “Well,” Jade said bluntly, glancing toward the crowded street, unable to pick out anyone suspicious, “if you die, we lose a good sponsor.”

  She looked back at him. “And I’d really rather not go through the trouble of socializing my way to find a new rich guy.”

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  The domus would be safe only if he remained safe. At least, that was how Jade saw it.

  Ashborne stared at her, visibly stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, words failing him.

  “Now, would you be safe if you hid at the domus?” Jade asked, her mind already racing for a way out, “Or do you have somewhere else you trust?”

  He snapped out of it. “My estate. It is near the domus.”

  “Got any shillings in your pocket?”

  “Yes?” Confused, Ashborne pulled out a coin pouch. He didn’t understand what she was planning, but handed it over anyway.

  “Hold this for me. I’ll be back soon,” Jade thrust her basket into his hands, took the pouch, and darted into the alley.

  This part of the city bordered the poorer districts - places people with even a little money avoided. Jade took several sharp turns, narrowly avoiding stagnant puddles and piles of unidentifiable trash, before stopping at a small house and knocking firmly on its door.

  The place was far from decent. Wooden planks patched worn sections of the walls. The windows were papered over with opaque oil sheets. Rusted containers cluttering the exterior. It was cramped - so small Jade doubted it would be worth renting even for a single person.

  Yet the laundry hanging from the lines told another story: two adults, a teenager, and two young children, all living within.

  The door creaked open.

  A girl of about eight peeked out, revealing only her eyes and part of her face from behind the doorframe. Her gaze held a careful mix of curiosity and alertness.

  “Hello,” Jade said, “My brother fell into a muddy pond and ruined his clothes. We’re in a hurry to get him something to change into so he doesn’t catch a cold. Would you be willing to sell us a set?”

  She met the girl’s eyes and added, with a small gesture, “15 shillings.”

  She could hear a toddler babbling somewhere behind the door. The girl frowned slightly and shifted her head, murmuring something - likely soothing a younger sibling - before replying firmly, “20 shillings.”

  Jade bargained on instinct. “16. I can ask the other houses around here, you know.”

  “19.” The girl lowered the price after a moment of hesitation.

  “17.” Jade narrowed her eyes. “Final offer. If that doesn’t work for you, Imma head to the other houses.” Her tone was calm, but the threat was clear.

  The girl went quiet for a moment before nodding. “Deal. Wait here.”

  A few minutes later, Ashborne stood holding a bundle of clothes - ragged, patched, and full of holes. He stared at them, then slowly lifted his gaze to Jade, eyebrows raised.

  “Stop staring and put them on already,” Jade snapped. “I was nice enough to get you a washed set, you know?”

  She grabbed the collar of his coat, practically stripped it off him, folded it neatly, and placed it into her basket. When she looked up, the noble-doe was still frozen in place. She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to just stand there all day? Or do you need me to babysit you while you dress?”

  “B-but–at least give me some privacy…” Ashborne protested weakly.

  “You don’t need to change. Just put them on.” Jade grabbed his arm and shoved it into one of the sleeves. “See? It’s baggy. Plenty of room to layer it over your clothes!”

  Ashborne pouted, but obeyed. He pulled on the ragged outerwear, topped it off with a torn cap, and stepped into a pair of boots, one of which had a hole in the left side.

  While he struggled with his new disguise, Jade swiftly gathered his belongings - items that likely belonged to Mr. Trent - and packed them into her basket, covering everything with her shawl. She even swapped their coin pouches, slipping his neatly embroidered one into her pocket.

  “17 shillings for the full set,” she whispered as they exited the alley. “Now, we need a carriage… And I mean cheap public ones, not the fancy kind, so stop looking over there!”

  “Oh.” Ashborne nodded and forced himself to look away from the polished carriages he would normally summon without a thought. His heart was racing. The whole situation felt unreal - like one of those serialized adventure stories he read in papers!

  “Okay,” Jade murmured, steering him toward the street. “Act like a normal working man. Slight bow, hands in your pockets, shoulders slouched.”

  Ashborne stared at her, startled, then copied her instructions. Within seconds, he realised - with mild shock - that he looked almost indistinguishable from the laborer who had just passed them!

  “Good. Now, talk like me and hire the carriage,” Jade whispered, then turned to the cabman with a polite smile.

  Ashborne swallowed, nerves creeping in as he faced the driver. He tried to mimic Jade’s speech. “Um-I, uh, need a ride to the domus at Wyrnfield… H-how much is it?”

  The cabman looked them both up and down. “You could walk and save your pennies for better clothes,” he said bluntly. “It’s not far.”

  That wasn’t what Ashborne had expected. He froze, then glanced helplessly at Jade, “I-I…”

  “He’s always dreamed of riding in a carriage,” Jade cut in smoothly, a light chuckle in her voice. “Just never had the chance. Now that I work at the domus, he finally gets to send his sister off properly.”

  The cabman raised his brows in approval, “A job at the domus? That’s expectable work. One shilling to Wyrnfield. Got it? Good. Hop on.”

  Jade gave Ashborne a quick nod. He caught the hint immediately, stepped forward, and offered his hand to help her into the seat before climbing in after her.

  It was a small carriage - two wheels, two seats. Ashborne had never ridden in anything like it. The upholstery was rough, the paint dull, the fittings chipped and worn. Everything about it was unfamiliar.

  The cabman chuckled, clearly noticing Ashborne’s restlessness and mistaking it for barely contained excitement. As the horse set off, he said, “I was just like you the first time I rode in one of these, many years ago. Nervous. Excited. Couldn’t stop looking around.”

  “You sounded experienced,” Jade said smoothly, playing along while Ashborne stiffened beside her, clearly unsure what he was supposed to do next. “Skilled, too. You must’ve been working since you were young.”

  The carriage jolted as it rattled over the flagstone road, bouncing sharply when a wheel dropped into a shallow pit.

  “Aye, since thirteen,” the cabman replied, nodding. “Starting as my father’s apprentice. So - what do you two do at domus?”

  “D’you know the ragged school there?” Jade said. “I’m one of the teachers. My brother works on a nearby farm - he’s been saving every penny for a shopping trip. We walked for over an hour, and in the end, he didn’t buy a single thing.”

  The cabman laughed. “Why’s that? Too expensive?”

  “He refused to let even one penny leave his hand!”

  Both Jade and the cabman chuckled. Ashborne pouted, muttering under his breath that he wasn’t that miserly.

  The conversation drifted to Jade’s iron oven project. Apparently, what she had thought as a small, unremarkable idea was already well known among the poor and working class near her students’ neighbourhood. Many were eagerly awaiting her biscuits - and the oven itself. The realization genuinely surprised her. She hadn’t thought she was doing anything particularly impressive.

  “I don’t know…” the cabman said as he slowed the carriage in front of the domus. “I’m just glad there’s a teacher like you, showing those children how to trade - even if it’s a small one. The youngsters from your class look happy.” He paused, then added firmly, “Hopeful. Yes, hopeful. I really hope your iron oven works out, Miss Jade. 5 sweet biscuits for 2 pence! You said it wasn’t cone sugar, but they’re sweet all the same! Where else can you find that? 2 pence barely gets me 2 pieces of hardtacks - and you could lose a tooth biting into those. Your biscuits? Miss Jade, as long as they don’t break my teeth, I’ll be the first in line when you open your stall!”

  “Aww, thank you!” Jade said warmly.

  Ashborne hopped down first. Jade reached out, letting him help her off the carriage.

  “We’ll be opening soon!” she added. “We’ve secured a small spot at the Pinky Horse Grocer, at the Nording Street junction.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful!” The cabman said brightly. “Then, I’ll see you soon, Miss Jade!”

  “See you soon!” Jade waved as he drove off, then turned toward the domus - Ashborne still at her side.

  Once inside the corridor, Jade glanced around. “All clear. Let’s get you somewhere and change. D’you wanna get Father Rochester to help contact your estate?”

  “Yes,” Ashborne said, exhaling in relief. “That would be ideal. I thank you sincerely for all the help you’ve given me. Please, tell me how I might repay you.”

  “Nah, it’s nothing,” Jade waved him off.

  She waited outside her classroom while he tidied himself inside. They exchanged pouches again - her pitiful few coins for his heavy pouch of shillings and even a couple of banknotes!

  Wow.

  She hadn’t seen a banknote since her first day in this world. Everything she earned or spent came in coins - coins with absurd denominations she’d never encountered before. Threepence. Sixpence. Seriously, who came up with this system? Did they want calculations to be confusing?

  “By the way,” Jade blurted out as they walked, “who’s following you? To the point that you have to swap clothes with Mr. Trent–”

  She immediately grimaced. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me a thing. You didn’t see me today, and I never met you on the street.”

  “Hm?” Ashborne blinked, keeping pace with her as they headed toward Father Rochester’s study, “But I genuinely believe Miss Jade is a wise woman who might understand my current predicament. Please, Miss Jade, enlighten me.”

  Jade frowned. “How would I know? You’re the one being followed. My only goal was to make sure our rich sponsors don’t die. Mission accomplished. I’m done.”

  “No, wait, Miss Jade!” Ashborne turned to her, eyes shining with earnest desperation. “You’re the smartest person I know! I don’t know who else I can rely on–”

  Jade narrowed her eyes, “Father Rochester is literally at your service.”

  She gave him a firm push between the shoulder blades, sending him straight into the study, then turned on her heel and left for the bakehouse.

  She had planned to bake more biscuits.

  Instead, she was summoned back to the study - this time by Father Rochester, the boss who controlled her paycheck.

  * Yeah, this was the part where the book cover comes from, but for some reason, the AI misunderstood my prompt and splashed the MC with weirdly placed flowers, instead of patching the clothes with patches that shaped like flowers. And they’ll sometimes replace the patches with tiny flowery patterned fabrics… Anyway, I’ll replace the cover once I get the funds to do so, commissioning an artist to remake it. But that’ll be a long way to go…

  * Just to be clear, this is part of the cultural difference and understanding, and Jade’s being prejudiced here.