Newspapers.

  Jade hadn’t read one since moving out from her auntie’s house. In her previous life, her news had come primarily from YouTube and social media - just like anyone else with constant internet access. She had simply been one of them, a face in the digital masses.

  Now, in this Victorian-ish era, with no internet to speak of, she had instantly lost her primary sources of information. Worse still, her current finances made a newspaper subscription entirely out of reach. Fortunately, Father Rochester was a regur reader, and the farmdy - Madam Hoonish, wife of the nearby farm’s owner - was kind enough to donate their old copies. Used newspapers, after all, were valuable resources for the poor. Thanks to this, Jade managed to maintain at least a rudimentary understanding of the country and the world beyond the domus.

  Even so, the old newspapers arrived irregurly. Some days brought several issues at once; others passed with nothing at all. Coupled with her already packed schedule - entangled in lesson pnning and designing the students’ sylbus - Jade was rarely up to date with current events. This was precisely why she’d remained oblivious to Mr. Rich Sponsors’s predicament until he stood right in front of her in Father Rochester’s study and id it all out.

  Sure, she had managed to give the noble-doe some reasonable advice, but ck of information left her wondering how it was going. She was genuinely worried she might have steered him straight into a pit. The thought nagged at her until she couldn’t even focus on her paperwork - the next semester’s textbook and teaching materials. Instead, she had been buried in the bakehouse since dawn on the day of the royal audience. Surely he wouldn’t be beheaded for a bad presentation, right? This wasn’t one of those ruthless, pace-intrigued settings like those historical C-webnovels… right?

  “Do rex, Miss Jade,” sister Miriam said gently as she helped mix the biscuit dough. “Lord Ashborne seemed very confident. Everything was well thought out. There should be no trouble at all.”

  “It should be,” Jade sighed, shaking her head. “I just can’t sit still. Let me stew for a bit - I’ll be fine once I’ve finished anxiousing myself.”

  Without pausing her work, Sister Miriam gnced at her. “Then you will still lead the biscuit sale after dinner?”

  What Sister Miriam referred to as dinner was, in Jade’s understanding, lunch. She had been confused at first, but had long since accepted it as a cultural difference and gone along with it.

  “Of course,” Jade replied. “I’ll be leading them for at least a month, before they can manage the stall on their own.”

  She began ticking points in her mind as she spoke, “Observe who’s suited to which role. Identify a team leader. Work out shifts. Refine the sales schedule. Decide who stays in the bakehouse and who sells outside. Prepare backup pns - what if something goes wrong? What if customers are Karens–I mean, difficult to deal with… Oh, and I need to teach them how to watch out for suspicious people! I really hope human trafficking isn’t a serious issue here…”

  Sister Miriam chuckled softly at Jade’s frantic mumbling.

  Miss Jade Lysmere - the mysterious maiden who had lost her memories. Sharp-tongued and perceptive like a well-educated dy, yet blunt and grounded like a commoner. A young woman with a strange accent and a manner that defied easy cssification.

  She was also the first non-clergy member to remain in the domus long-term - and to do so in harmony.

  She was not the first soul the domus had sheltered. Many had been saved and given sanctuary, only to leave once opportunity arose - seeking better fortunes, easier lives. Few could tolerate rising before dawn for prayers and chores, or abiding by the strict dress code that forbade bright colours.

  Yet Jade stayed.

  Rising early each morning, sometimes joining the prayers by sitting quietly in the hall with the other, reading from the borrowed Lumen Codex. Assisting with chores without hesitation. Wearing pin dress without compint - something rare for a young woman who ordinarily favour cheerful colours. And most importantly, enduring hardship without grievance.

  She endured.

  She adapted.

  She overcame.

  She accepted the children who had been rejected elsewhere, teaching them despite her own ck of experience - and they flourished under her guidance.

  She witnessed the ragged school’s financial struggles and conceived the iron oven project. Sister Miriam was quite certain it would succeed. By the coming spring, the children would likely be able to fund their own school with the help of the newly cast oven.

  She recognised the danger posed by commonly used household items and attempted to act - first by introducing the matter to her lessons, an idea swiftly rejected by both Father Rochester and Lord Ashborne. She then tried to create a cheaper, safer facial cream herself. That effort failed, owing to her ck of technical skills, and Lord Ashborne had ter taken the responsibility upon himself. In many respects, she had been the beginning of all these events - and in a good way.

  Sister Miriam was confident that Lord Ashborne would return with favourable news before sunset.

  “Miss Jade,” she said gently, drawing Jade back from her grim imaginations of a beheaded Mr. Rich Sponsor, “what do you intend to do next?”

  Jade scraped the biscuit dough into a makeshift piping bag fashioned from linen cloth and a paper tip. “Well, I’ll continue refining the teaching sylbus. At the very least, they must be able to read, write, and count before they move on to Mr. Anderson’s css or graduate. Honestly, I think teaching them basic baking skills would be more practical. They could seek work in bakeries or cake shops.”

  “Do you intend to remain a teacher for many years?” Sister Miriam asked, filling another piping bag for Jade. Her own attempts at piping were far less refined - her biscuits emerged as rounded lumps of dough, pressed ft into rough circles.

  Jade considered the question while carefully piping another neat ring. “Of course not. I’m not really interested in teaching. Besides, as you can see, I’m not exactly good at it - not compared to Mr. Anderson. I still prefer hanging around the kitchen; I love making cakes. Maybe I’ll work for a bakery? Or, even open my own confectionery? Well, once I built enough savings, of course. I’d probably need a better-paying job first just to get the capital together…”

  “How about serving as a pastry cook for a noble household?” Sister Miriam suggested, spooning strawberry jam and pcing a crimson dot at the the centre of each biscuit Jade finished. “I am certain Lord Ashborne would gdly employ you. Your skills would be welcomed in many honourable Houses.”

  Jade paused, blinked, then resumed piping. “Hm, that does sound like a good career path. As long as I can save some good money for my retirement, I wouldn’t mind working for one of the Great Houses. But… I guess the masters of the House dictate the atmosphere, don’t they? I definitely don’t wanna work for a lousy one… I want a job that leaves me with some life after I’ve had enough sleep - at least gimme a little personal time to read, rex, or do something other than baking.”

  Sister Miriam disliked bursting Jade’s hopes, yet after a gentle sigh, she spoke nonetheless. “I fear that would be difficult, Miss Jade - if my understanding is correct.”

  “What?” Jade set aside a baking tray and gnced at her

  “Whether in a hotel, a restaurant, a bakery, or any household,” sister Miriam replied kindly, “a cook must remain close to the stove throughout the day. One never knows when food will be required. Morning for fresh bread and biscuits, the luncheon hour for pies, afternoons for cakes and sweets, and evenings again for pies and pastries.”

  “...” Jade pressed her lips together, eyes narrowed slightly as she reflected. Great, she thought, No bour ws, no fixed hours, no overtime compensation. A cook’s life, huh.

  The silence lingered long enough to trouble Sister Miriam, “Miss Jade, are you quite well?”

  “Oh, yes, yes - I’m fine, really, I’m just…” Jade turned to her with a brilliant smile. “I’m just very grateful that my first stop here was with all of you inside this friendly domus. If it weren’t for your help, my new beginning would have been truly miserable.”

  And Jade wasn’t wrong.

  Had she been found by a farm household, a fisherman, or a band of rangers, she might never have been given the time to adjust to this unfamiliar world. Perhaps she would have been turned away once it became clear she had nothing to offer in return for saving her. Or she might have become the subject of neighborhood gossip… Worse still - she might have been forced into marriage within the household, fled in desperation, and found herself pursued by authorities for cking any wful identity.*

  An unidentified woman without papers.

  An illegal presence.

  A problem to be removed.

  She had been fortunate indeed, to be taken in by the domus, given shoulder, honest work, and time to adapt - time to earn trust, reputation, and a modest pce within society.

  “Oh, Miss Jade,” Sister Miriam smiled warmly, “we are grateful to have you among us. It is a blessing to welcome such a fine young woman into our care.”

  Jade returned the smile.

  Together, they slid the trays of biscuits into the oven and turned over the hourgss - the only cheapest timekeeper Jade had managed to find in the domus, one so minor that even Father Rochester could not recall when it had reached their storeroom.

  Moments ter, hurried knocking sounded at the door.

  “Whoa, whoa - hold it right there,” Before the door could swing fully open, Jade dashed forward, shoved it back, and stepped outside, shutting it firmly behind her. “Careful with the hygiene! You’re bringing in a whole cloud of dust!”

  “My apologies. I should have waited for your reply,” Ashborne said at once, yet his delight was undiminished. “But I could not contain myself for another moment. Miss Jade - you are brilliant! Everything unfolded just as you predicted. The rehearsals were with every moment!”

  Jade’s eyes widened in relief, and she broke into a grin. “That’s great! So the trouble is over?”

  “Precisely!” Ashborne nodded, finally calming somewhat. “Her Majesty has said it will take a few days, but the matter is settled. There will be no more absurd accusations against me.”

  “Well,” Jade sighed, folding her arms. “That doesn’t mean you can let your guard down, Sir.”

  Yes, the problem had been solved - but not perfectly.

  Still, it was the best solution she could manage.

  If the great strategists like ZhuGe Liang or Zhou Yu* had handled this, it probably would have ended with a much cleaner outcome… Jade thought to herself, giving a small shrug.

  “Yes, I understand,” Ashborne nodded. He smiled, though his expression remained resolute. “So long as I remain within Her Majesty’s sight, those who profit from the perfumery trades will not dare y a hand upon me - provided they retain even a fragment of sense. Should anything befall me now, suspicion would fall upon them at once. That said,” he added thoughtfully, “I doubt I’ll ever have the chance to conduct business with them again, even if I were to invest in a field completely unreted to perfumeries. I have ruined their golden hen, and they will surely hold that grudge across every other trade.”

  “Then you’d better stay away from anything cosmetic-reted if you don’t want to provoke them further,” Jade shrugged, “Well, I guess you don’t mind closing off one of the many paths to making your fortune.”

  “Indeed,” Ashborne agreed calmly.

  “By the way,” Jade asked, curiosity creeping into her voice, “how did Her Majesty respond to the idea of reguting drug safety? I assume she didn’t simply agree on the spot - there must be discussions, debates, resistance… Did she seem, I don’t know, pleased?”

  Ashborne straightened slightly. “I suspect that, very soon, a great many people will find themselves urgently hiring chemists for tests and establishing boratories. Once that occurs, they will have little time left to trouble me.”

  “Good for you,” Jade grinned, waving a hand. “Okay then - I should get back to work–”

  “Miss Jade,” Ashborne interrupted gently. “Please wait. I am not finished.”

  “Huh?” Jade turned back just as he presented a small leather case.

  Inside y a delicate locket, no rger than his thumb, finely wrought with intricate floral patterns. What surprised her most was not the craftsmanship, but the stone set within it: not emerald, nor ruby, but jade. In all her time here, she had never encountered a dy wearing accessories made of jade.

  “This is…” she began.

  Ashborne smiled. “Your name reached Her Majesty’s ears. She was most pleased, and granted you this token of gratitude. She selected the stone herself, believing it fitting, Miss Jade.” He turned the locket, revealing a discreet yet unmistakable royal sigil engraved upon its back. “It beats Her Majesty’s mark.”

  Jade froze.

  A Queen.

  Noticed her.

  A ragged school teacher.

  That alone was enough to leave her momentarily stunned. Still half-lost in her own internal drama - vividly imagining a historical C-webnovel plot where she’d narrowly save Mr. Rich Sponsor from a wicked fate - she took the locket and examined it. Before she could think, the words just slipped out, “So, if I were in danger, technically speaking, I could run to the pace gates, show this locket, and ask the Queen for asylum, right?”

  Ashborne blinked.

  It was… not the response he had expected.

  He had been prepared to go along with her appreciation of the craftsmanship, expecting her to admire the beauty of such an intricate piece of art.

  After a pause, he considered her words carefully. “In theory, yes. Her Majesty would certainly remember granting this piece; jade is an uncommon choice, and I believe this may be the only such locket she had bestowed. However–”

  Jade sighed before he could finish. “I know. I know. If I use it that way, I’m basically throwing away my reputation with the Queen, which definitely is not a wise move. But hey, if things ever get truly bad, it’s good to know I have insurance.”

  “Not if I can prevent it, Miss Jade,” Ashborne said at once, brow furrowing. “So long as you remain under my watch, I will not allow any such danger to reach you.”

  “Well, I’m just sayin’,” Jade grinned broadly. “I feel pretty safe here with you around, you know. Our domus is lucky to have you as its patron.”

  A faint blush crept onto Ashborne’s cheek. He cleared his throat. “It is my honour to aid those in need, Miss Jade.”

  Jade chuckled and turned back toward the bakehouse door. “Alright then - I’m really going back to work now?”

  “Yes–no, wait,” Ashborne said quickly. “I’m afraid I must borrow you a little longer.”

  “?” Jade turned, puzzled. “Borrow me for what?”

  He shifted slightly, uncharacteristically uneasy. “My father wishes to meet you.”

  “...What?” Jade stared at him, eyes wide.

  Qiya