Opening her eyes, the room was shrouded in darkness.
She pushed back the warm quilt, her bare feet meeting the floor as she padded to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to discern the faintest hint of dawn.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, and by instinct, she judged it to be around six o’clock, leaving four and a half hours until her train’s departure.
From her wardrobe and drawers, she retrieved a corset and black stockings, donning them before selecting a custom-made, deep blue evening gown, a light brown knee-length coat, and a wide-brimmed hat adorned with feathers to complete her ensemble for the day’s journey.
Standing before the mirror, she shed her coat, observing how her pale golden hair contrasted sharply with the deep blue gown; such a combination would undoubtedly draw attention in a crowd, much like the black Gothic dress favored by the occupant of Unit 101, whose stark white hair also compelled gazes to linger on the vivid juxtaposition of colors.
Given the nature of her work, she preferred to avoid undue scrutiny, so with her coat draped casually over her arm, she descended the stairs.
As the hour was still early, she meticulously prepared a peculiar breakfast for herself.
It consisted of toast slathered with intensely spicy chili sauce, alongside chili-infused meat, and three small, vibrantly red peppers, whose appearance alone promised a formidable heat.
She harbored a fondness for spicy foods, finding that the pain of the heat allowed her to experience a sensation akin to her blood boiling, a constant reminder to suppress her ailment and guard against complacency.
Since her arrival in Mistfall City in July, her penchant for spice had gained an additional, more personal reason: the girl she had first encountered in the cellar had cried for the first time because of her, all thanks to an unassuming dinner.
Indeed, crying from spice was still crying.
Recalling that tear-streaked, beet-red face, distorted by the burning sensation, a mischievous satisfaction bloomed within her.
From her seat by the window, she could observe the tranquil houses opposite and the entire, hushed street.
These days of waiting carried a faint loneliness, as if she were gradually reverting to her former life of solitary pursuits, stripped of all unnecessary social interactions.
Tasks, work, assessments, excursions.
She could accomplish most of these alone, and such a life was liberating, freeing her from the need to consider others, allowing her to live precisely as she pleased.
Yet, over time, she found herself sensing a void, a feeling that grew increasingly pronounced after she had tasted certain unexpected delights.
‘I understand I cannot be too willful…’
Her breakfast was finished without her conscious notice, and her gaze finally drifted away from a window on the second floor of Unit 101.
Day had broken, and it was time for her to pack the luggage she would carry for her journey.
****
“Why didn’t you wake me up!”
Konehl-Ghervil scrambled out of bed in a panic, pulling on her dress and stockings; it was already eight in the morning.
The carriage ride to the city center would take approximately two hours, and even a slight delay now could mean missing her departure.
“What time is it now… is it really necessary to wake up so early…?” Govet-Ghervil mumbled, stirring sleepily and stretching languidly before rubbing her eyes to peer at the grandfather clock on the wall.
Just as her vision began to clear, a fragrant darkness enveloped her.
Konehl-Ghervil’s recently discarded nightgown, still warm from her body, had been tossed directly onto Govet-Ghervil’s head.
“Help me pack my luggage!”
“Oh…”
After washing up, Konehl-Ghervil tidied her attire while meticulously listing all the precautions her ‘foolish sister’ needed to heed:
“Make your own breakfast, or eat out…”
“I’ve left all the money at home, don’t be extravagant…”
“Don’t reveal your identity when you go out…”
“Don’t use your abilities on ordinary people…”
“Take good care of the roses…”
Ten minutes later, with all preparations complete, Konehl-Ghervil, carrying her luggage and wearing a white cloche hat, ensured she had enough funds for the round trip by carriage. Before stepping out, she turned back to offer a warm smile to Govet-Ghervil, who had once again sprawled out on the bed, belly exposed, and fallen back asleep.
“Take care of yourself, I’m off!”
With her parting instructions delivered, she rushed out of the abbey.
Settling into the carriage, she informed the coachman of her urgency and requested greater speed, feeling a sense of relief upon receiving his assurance.
As she watched the increasingly familiar scenery outside the window, a flicker of anticipation stirred within her heart.
Her destination was the Capital, the most prosperous city in the entire kingdom, rumored to be a vibrant port.
She had long harbored a desire to visit a beach, to catch sea fish during low tide, and, if circumstances allowed, to light a fire and roast them right there.
Seasoning them with her expert knowledge as a culinary apprentice, she mused that if anyone couldn’t resist her flavors, she wouldn’t mind making a small profit.
A refreshing gust of wind, rushing in from the rapidly moving carriage, lifted the strands of hair from her forehead.
It was wonderfully cool.
Indeed, autumn was slowly setting in; a trip to the beach might be rather chilly now, making next summer a far more suitable time.
Basking in the cool breeze and admiring the passing scenery, she engaged in light conversation with the coachman, arriving at the station amidst a blend of contentment and eagerness.
****
Stepping down from the carriage, her gaze swept across the bustling crowd entering and exiting the station, yet she found no one she recognized.
‘Am I late?’
She consulted her pocket watch: nine-forty, twenty minutes to spare.
Neither early nor late.
Truth be told, she dreaded wading into the throng to search, as her height would only hinder her vision.
Her current position was beneath a lamppost, with no particularly conspicuous buildings nearby.
Dressed in a relatively unassuming tea dress today, her presence wasn’t easily discernible, unless she were to remove her hat…
Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, she resolved to find an opportune moment to slip into the crowd.
Half an hour elapsed.
At the edge of the station’s throng, a tall figure in a coat steadily joined the queue for boarding.
Dr. Callan was in no rush; the train was scheduled to depart at half-past ten, and her leisurely arrival at ten past ten was perfectly timed.
By adhering to this schedule, she ensured that the passengers disembarking from the previous train would have largely dispersed, thereby avoiding unnecessary congestion.
As she continued to queue, nearly reaching the boarding gate, her peripheral vision caught a flash of dazzling snow-white.
‘Hmm? A trick of the light?’
When she looked more closely, the snow-white vanished, and a hat tumbled through the crowd.
“Madam, your ticket, please.”
The ticket inspector politely prompted her.
Casting a glance behind her, she offered no reply.
Instead, she carried her luggage, circled to the end of the line, and deftly scaled the waist-high barrier, disappearing into the crowd.
Just as she was about to retrieve her hat, an oblivious individual kicked it away again, leaving Konehl-Ghervil utterly exasperated.
The hat was lightweight, and those in a hurry rarely noticed when they accidentally kicked it.
Once or twice was tolerable, but if it were kicked a third time, she resolved to abandon it; more pressing matters awaited her.
This time, however, proved fortuitous; several people recognized her and obligingly cleared a path.
She bent down, extending her hand, but just three centimeters from her grasp, another hand swiftly intercepted.
“Where are your parents? Have you gotten lost from them?”
Before she could clearly see who it was, the hat was promptly placed upon her head.
‘Did they just mistake me for a lost child separated from their parents???’
The thanks that had been on the tip of her tongue was forcibly swallowed back.
To mistake someone nearly 165 centimeters tall for a child was either blindness or utter foolishness.
Compared to two months prior, when she had first arrived in this world, she had certainly grown, both physically and in other aspects.
Adjusting her hat to secure its position, Konehl-Ghervil turned abruptly and walked away, utterly disinclined to humor the blind fool.
“Are you really going to look for your mommy?”
A hand urgently caught her arm.
‘Will this ever end!’
‘Wait… that voice sounds familiar…’
Slowly, she turned, to find a smiling blonde woman.
“Why are you only just arriving? We agreed on ten o’clock!”
A surge of indignation flared within her.
She had spent a grueling half-hour searching through the bustling crowd.
Her emotional journey had been tumultuous, shifting from anticipation to resignation, then to anxiety, and finally, to utter desperation.
“Ten o’clock for what? I, for one, would like to know why you’re even here!”
Dr. Callan’s smile faded as she perceived the girl’s considerable vexation.
“You told Govet-Ghervil to relay the message, to wait at the station until ten. Look at the time now!”
“I didn’t ask her to relay anything; have you misunderstood…?”
“…”
As their gazes met, both simultaneously realized the source of the problem—that certain lazy glutton had taken it upon themselves to do something utterly unnecessary!