The day must have been exhausting for the child. Ayla fell asleep the moment they returned to the inn.

Estella considered waking her to wash up, even briefly, but… decided against it.

“I’m tired too. So for her… it must’ve been worse.”

Standing beside the bed, Estella looked down quietly at the small, sleeping figure.

No employer in the world would willingly hire a woman burdened with a child. Which meant, whether she liked it or not, she’d have to start leaving Ayla alone at the inn beginning tomorrow.

“She can manage by herself… can’t she?”

Her head began to throb again.

Even with her stomach full, the ache persisted, proof of just how much stress she’d been under.

“Haa…”

Letting out a long sigh, Estella collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Mold crept across the wooden panels above, dark and stubborn. Her gaze lingered on it as she muttered.

“I’ll find work… I have to.”

She’d survived every kind of hardship before—dirty jobs, brutal labor, even the battlefield—and yet, somehow, this felt harder than all of it.

Back then, she’d only had herself to worry about.

Now, there was Ayla.

“…”

Her brow furrowed tightly as if to crush the thought before it could take root.

“Useless thoughts.”

Estella covered her eyes with her forearm, pressing her fingertips lightly into her lids. The dull pressure soothed her for a fleeting moment, and before long, she drifted off to sleep.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

Her worries became reality.

“You’re… looking for maid work, ma’am?”

It was the fifth time she’d heard that exact question that morning. By now, the phrase had been hammered into her ears until it lost all meaning.

“Yes,” she said with practiced calm. “That’s right. But I’m confident with household chores too—cleaning, laundry, anything really.”

This was also the fifth time she’d had to sell herself like this.

And once again—

“Ah… I see…”

The man behind the desk pursed his lips and averted his eyes, like everyone else before him.

In the end, the result was the same.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing available at the moment. Ha-ha… Perhaps you might consider another line of work?”

‘Nothing available?’

The maid trade was an endless well jobs and workers both constantly in supply. But still, not a single agency would connect her with one.

There was only one reason.

Estella looked like a noblewoman.

“Honestly, ma’am, I’ll be frank. If I introduce someone like you, I’ll just end up in trouble. Do you know how grueling maid work is? Oh—of course you do. You’ve surely seen your maids working around the house. But you, ma’am? Doing that yourself?”

“I’m not a lady. I can handle rough work—”

“Yes, yes, I understand. I do. Still…”

The man’s gaze flicked briefly over her black mourning dress, then returned to his papers.

“Regardless, I can’t refer you for domestic service.”

“Why?”

“Because no one wanted to hire a noble-born widow—even one down on her luck. Women like that were infamous in the service world: too proud to take orders, too delicate to do real labor. Of course, I’m not saying all are like that, but most are.”

“I’m not like that. I’m not even a noble—”

“Yes, yes, I understand. In any case, perhaps you’d be better suited to a governess position instead.”

“…”

Estella clenched her jaw.

If she could have, she would have done it already. Governess work paid better and was far less grueling than domestic labor. So why had she refused it?

Because she had no one to introduce her to such a position. Even if she had had such an introduction, she lacked the noble refinement expected of someone who tutored children of status.

Unaware of these realities, the clerk practically pushed her out of the agency.

“You seem like a decent young lady, so let me be honest with you. No matter where you go, you’ll struggle to find someone willing to recommend you for maid work. You’ve still got that upper-class air. It makes people uncomfortable. Who would hire that?”

With that, he slammed the door shut.

“Haa…”

Her fifth rejection of the day left her drained. She pressed a hand against the cold brick wall, steadying herself.

She’d left Ayla at the inn with bread and milk, yet she herself hadn’t eaten a single bite. She’d planned to find a job first, then buy a small loaf for lunch but in this state, she didn’t even have the will to eat.

“This isn’t easy…”

Her voice came out low and rough with irritation.

She glanced down at her bare hands. She hadn’t worn gloves on purpose, she wanted to show her calloused palms, to prove she wasn’t a noblewoman.

But it had done no good.

“Noblewoman, huh…”

She muttered bitterly. In truth, she was an orphan who’d crawled through filth just to survive, who’d caught the eye of a mercenary company and fought her way across battlefields.

And yet, strangely enough, people saw nobility in her.

Not because of her lineage—she had none—but because of her bearing.

Years of fighting for survival had honed her body, giving her an effortlessly graceful posture. Others called it poise and dignity, but it was simply muscle memory from a life lived under tension.

Even her calmness, earned through danger and bloodshed, was mistaken for the composure expected of a lady.

She had no one to introduce her to such a position. Even if she had received such an introduction, she lacked the noble refinement expected of someone who tutored the children of the wealthy and influential.

Unaware of these realities, the clerk practically pushed her out of the agency.

‘A year ago, it wasn’t like this.’

Back then, sunburnt skin and worn-out clothes had kept her from being mistaken for anything other than a weary traveler. At worst, people called her “a woman of unusual bearing,” nothing more.

But after marrying Baron Vansen and living comfortably within his estate, her skin had regained its pale, natural tone—and now, she looked every bit the refined widow she despised being mistaken for.

Estella looked down at her modest yet well-kept black mourning dress and murmured.

“Should I sell this and buy something a maid would wear…?”

Even that idea was uncertain.

The Vansen family had been a fallen house, their estate tucked away in the countryside. She’d never owned a fine dress to begin with.

So even if she sold this one, what could it fetch here, in a city like Shameron?

‘Probably not enough to matter.’

‘Even maid’s clothes are still new clothes.’

‘To have them made would cost both time and money I don’t have.’

Even if she sold what few dresses she owned, there was no guarantee she could buy a suitable outfit in time—or at all.

“It’s complicated.”

A dull ache began to pulse behind her temples.

“Haa… I should at least eat something.”

Her job hunt had gone nowhere, and now her stomach gnawed at her ribs. Hunger only made her mind foggier. She needed food before her irritation boiled over.

She decided to head toward a small, shabby bakery she’d noticed earlier. It wasn’t much, but it was cheap.

Truthfully, she wanted to treat herself to a decent meal, just one good lunch after a day like this.

“…As if I could afford that.”

She was halfway out of the alley when a small, round-faced woman suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!”

They nearly collided, but Estella’s reflexes saved them both, she shifted aside just in time.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the woman’s basket.

“Ah!”

It wobbled violently, sending a cascade of red apples tumbling to the ground.

“My apples!”

In one swift motion, Estella snatched two of them out of the air before they hit the cobblestone.

The woman’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my! You’re fast!”

Estella offered a faint smile, crouching down to place the rescued apples back into the basket before gathering the rest from the ground.

“Here, I managed to save a few, but some are bruised.”

The woman blew out a quick puff of air through her nose, then broke into an easy smile.

“Well, what can you do? I’ll just toss the bad ones later!”

“Anyway, thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing,” Estella replied, then hesitated before adding, “Though… if you’re planning to throw those bruised apples away, mind if I take one?”

The woman blinked, clearly surprised by the request. Estella only lifted a shoulder lightly.

“I’m just a bit hungry. And it’s a long walk back.”

For a moment, the woman stared as though processing what she’d heard, then her eyes brightened and she quickly held out the fruit.

“Of course! Take as many as you like. They may’ve fallen, but they’re good apples!”

Estella accepted two with a quiet nod.

“Thanks.”

It felt a little like she’d just stolen something—but really, what did that matter? Free food was free food.

“I’ll enjoy it.”

Estella said, closing the exchange with a polite nod.

The woman thanked her again and hurried off down the street, basket in hand.

Estella brushed some dust from the apple’s skin and took a hearty bite.

A crisp crunch echoed as the sweet and tart juice pooled in her mouth, flooding her senses.

“Haa…”

The fresh, tangy flavor washed through her chest, cooling the heat of her frustration.

“It’s good…”

She murmured, and immediately bit into it again.

Her head tilted back instinctively as the last of her tension melted away.

The dull throbbing in her temples faded.

Eyes closed, she savored the refreshing burst of flavor.

“Really good.”

Estella was not the sort of woman who expressed herself easily, nor one who often found joy in much of anything.

But there was one indulgence she truly allowed herself: food.

And now that she’d had something delicious, strength returned to her limbs.

‘All right. In a city this big, surely someone needs help.’

“Let’s look around a little more.”

She said under her breath. “If nothing comes of it,” she continued, “I’ll try the southern district of Shameron tomorrow.”

With that thought in mind, she straightened her shoulders and took a step forward.

“Ah!”

A man came barreling around the corner, nearly slamming into her.

He stumbled to a stop, breathless.

“S-sorry!”

His voice was hesitant, and he seemed nervous. He glanced quickly around the street, freezing when his gaze landed on her black dress.

After hesitating for a moment, he stepped closer and spoke carefully.

“Um… excuse me. You didn’t happen to see a woman pass by here, did you?”