Chapter 4 : When Tragedy Meets Resolve
Chapter 4
I pressed my face into her shoulder and gently patted her back—as if I were the one comforting her.
Foolish, wasn’t it? Pathetic, even.
And yet… when I felt her shoulder growing damp…
“Ah…”
It hit me.
I was the one crying.
“What a cruel world… Even the heavens show no mercy.”
“……”
“Stay strong, Edith…”
Her sigh-like voice dissipated into the air, and the crushing weight of reality descended upon me once more.
No—I was not fine. Not yet.
When people in Dochlia speak of Mussen, one image typically comes to mind:
A wealthy, peaceful city. Lively streets, ample job opportunities, and residents known for their warmth and hospitality.
But now?
‘That’s all in the past. Ever since the war, the whole country’s been in disarray—Mussen included. And since it’s the city of Duke Schultz… its reputation’s plummeted even further.’
Mrs. Pensler had frowned as she said that.
Most factories were already full of men. The places where women could find work were severely limited.
‘Some work in taverns. Others as maids for noble or wealthy families. But almost every place is taken now. Only the taverns are left—and Edith, don’t you dare set foot in one!’
Which left me with just one option.
‘About a month ago… there was a posting. The Russell Marquessate in Völlern is looking for a maid to attend to the old madam. But hardly anyone applied—maybe because housing wasn’t included.’
The House of Russell in Völlern…
They were famed for their business acumen, having struck gold in the railway industry. The elderly madam, it was said, held the real power—and her grip on the financial world was so firm that even royalty dared not cross her.
Rumors had it she weighed everything with cold logic, measuring gain and loss with terrifying precision.
A person like that would not be easy to serve.
‘I’ve heard she’s incredibly strict… People don’t last long in her employ. Are you sure about this?’
Mrs. Pensler asked me over and over again. But I had no room for hesitation.
The train ride took three hours, but the pay was excellent, and the Russell household even covered the travel fare.
I could afford to sleep a little less.
If her temperament was difficult, then I would simply endure. If I could secure this job, I’d be able to cover my living expenses—and perhaps, continue my studies.
By the time I collected myself, I found my feet had already carried me to the post office.
The streets were just as lively as they had been before the war.
“Tulips in winter! Half off today only!”
“Freshest society gossip!”
The city’s noisy chatter scattered the melancholy weighing on my chest.
Pushing through the crowds, I stepped into the post office. It was packed.
After waiting for nearly an hour, my turn finally came.
I approached the counter and spoke quickly to the exhausted-looking clerk.
“I’d like to place a call—to the Russell estate in Völlern, please.”
“Long-distance starts at 30 rubles. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
“Keep in mind—after ten minutes, it’s one ruble per second.”
After confirming the charges, he connected me to the line.
The Russell butler was… meticulous. He grilled me with question after question—about my health, any medications I took, even hereditary illnesses.
He didn’t forget to warn me either: any dishonesty would result in immediate disqualification.
I answered with complete sincerity, and at last, he scheduled an interview.
Before hanging up, he emphasized once more: the madam is not forgiving of tardiness or last-minute cancellations. I must be punctual.
When the call ended, I felt as if I had run a marathon.
Perhaps that was why the job remained unfilled until now.
But I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I was energized.
The idea of facing everything alone… was daunting. Yet also, strangely liberating. Having work to do might just be what I need to keep the darker thoughts at bay.
‘How long am I going to let myself wallow like this?’
I steeled myself once more.
And as I turned to leave the post office, my gaze caught the front page of the day’s newspaper, posted on the wall:
“Royal Family Strips House Schultz of Financial Authority”
“Will the Missing Heir Return the Embezzled Fortune?”
Johannes Schultz was still at the center of public discourse.
Everyone believed the royal statement without question and tore him apart with their words.
Did they need a scapegoat that badly? Or had they truly accepted the story as absolute truth?
Even if the former duke had embezzled state funds, the heir had been at the frontlines. He had nothing to do with it.
And there was no proof the money was even in his possession.
My brows drew together as I lifted my gaze…
“Huh…?”
A towering figure blocked my path.
My lips parted slightly in shock as I looked up at him—then back to the headline. Then at him again.
Golden hair kissed by sunlight. Eyes as blue as the sea. Features far too perfect to forget.
“They said you were missing…?”
It was Johannes Schultz.
