To put it simply, Estella ended up applying for the position of temporary maid in Camilla’s place.

“Pardon? You, my lady, wish to work as a maid…?”

Camilla had stared at her in disbelief at first.

But Estella’s quiet persuasion worked wonders.

“If you introduce me for the job, I’ll give you ten percent of my wages for the next few months as a referral fee.”

Coupled with the mention that she planned to leave the region in a few months, the deal became irresistible.

And so, here she was.

“You’ve polished it quite thoroughly.”

Estella passed the butler’s inspection with ease.

“Far better than I expected.”

He made no comment about how odd it was for a woman like her who looked as though she had never lifted a finger for housework—to perform so well.

“Thank you.”

Estella replied briefly. The elderly butler, round-faced despite his years, gave a small, thoughtful hum at the difference in demeanor between her and Camilla. Then he turned and asked in his clipped, formal tone.

“If the master grants approval, you’ll begin work next week. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes. And please, speak comfortably with me.”

The butler seemed relieved to hear that. His tone immediately softened.

“Very well.”

With the shift in formality, even his voice took on a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

“Still, that outfit won’t do for work.”

Estella had worn the plainest dress she owned, but even so, it wasn’t the sort of thing a maid would wear.

“The morning uniform is black, but the afternoon one is sky-blue. Would that be acceptable?”

He was asking whether she’d be fine abandoning strict mourning customs for practicality’s sake.

“It’s fine.”

Strictly speaking, it was improper of her to seek employment during the mourning period. Compared to that, the color of her dress was hardly important. Survival came first.

However, knowing that the butler might feel uneasy about it, she added:

“I’ll use a black ribbon for my hair instead.”

That was the way of the working class—simple, symbolic. It was her quiet way of declaring that she would live not as a widow of rank, but as a laborer.

The butler seemed to understand. He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded.

“Hmm… very well. Then we’ll have you use the uniform Camilla wore. It won’t fit perfectly, but bear with it for a few days.”

“They provide uniforms here?”

Estella asked, a little surprised.

“The master dislikes inconsistency in attire. Cleanliness and uniformity are both highly valued.”

Naturally so. In most households, maids paid for their own uniforms. Estella had been prepared to stretch her meager funds to have one made, so this was welcome news indeed.

“And the staff meals are at eight in the morning, noon, tea at four, and supper at half past eight.”

“You mean… all of those are provided?”

“Of course.”

“The tea and desserts as well?”

“Those too.”

“…”

Estella wasn’t one to use sentimental words lightly, but this time they slipped out before she could stop herself.

“That’s… truly moving.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll work hard.”

The butler let out a hearty chuckle in response to her sudden change in expression.

“Good. I’m glad to have you.”

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

“Vendingk finally replied.”

At Jack’s words, the faintest hint of a reaction flashed across Ian’s face — no more than a slight lift of his brow. For a man who usually kept his emotions hidden, however, it was a sign of genuine pleasure.

Understanding this, Jack said nothing and handed him the letter first.

As Ian read it, the corners of his mouth turned up in a small, satisfied smile.

“Success?”

Jack asked quietly.

“Success.”

“Ha, finally.”

Ian passed him the letter, and as Jack skimmed it, his eyes widened a fraction.

“If Vendingk’s this confident, the results must be solid.”

“He’s not one to exaggerate.”

Ian let out a low chuckle, then his expression sharpened. Leaning back in his chair, he opened his pocket watch with a soft click, then closed it again.

He remained silent for a moment. Then, setting the watch down on the desk with a soft thud, he sat up straight.

“The key now lies in supplying Lumistones.”

“I’ll start looking into it.”

Jack replied immediately. He didn’t need details to understand Ian’s intent; he never did.

“This is where it really begins.”

“I know.”

Jack’s gaze turned razor-sharp, and Ian added, his tone quiet but weighted.

“Be more careful from now on. Especially with those old men.”

So far, they had managed to keep their project a secret by developing the technology under layers of diversionary investments. However, patent applications were another matter entirely — it was impossible to remain hidden during that process. That was when accidents tended to happen.

“It won’t happen twice.”

Jack’s mouth twisted faintly at the memory of the past.

“That won’t happen again.”

Ian said firmly, as if making a vow. Then he turned toward the door.

“I’ll check every possible lumistone supplier and report back.”

He took a few steps, then stopped abruptly.

“Oh, right. The old butler asked me to pass along a message, something’s changed.”

Ian rarely concerned himself with the management of his estates, whether in Shameron or the capital. Such matters were usually left to the butler’s discretion. The fact that he mentioned it at all suggested that personnel were involved.

“Go on.”

“They’ve hired a temporary maid.”

“A temporary maid?”

“Yeah. Camilla got hurt… not that the name probably means much to you, right?”

Ian gave him a look that clearly said, Don’t ask obvious questions.

Jack clicked his tongue.

“You should at least remember the name of a maid who’s worked for over four years.”

“Finish your report.”

“Tch. Anyway, the old maid’s injured and can’t work for a while, so they’re bringing someone in to fill her spot.”

Ian didn’t even glance his way, only gave a faint nod or two.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.”

“Then go.”

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

“This will be our home for the time being.”

At Estella’s words, Ayla—still clutching her rabbit doll tightly—turned her small head to look around the house.

Even if the name Vansen now carried the bitter taste of ruin, it had still been a noble household with a back garden and servants’ quarters.

Compared to that, this place was undeniably smaller and humbler.

‘Still, there’s warmth here.’

The small house felt alive, filled with the quiet bustle of people and sunlight reaching even the far corners.

Perhaps that was why the tension in Ayla’s hands began to ease, her grip loosening bit by bit. The fact that he had mentioned it at all suggested that personnel were involved.

“So, your name’s Ayla?”

Limping slightly as she approached, Camilla crouched down to meet Ayla’s eye level first.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Camilla. When your mother goes to work, I’ll be staying with you.”

“……”

“Oh! But don’t worry, it won’t be just the two of us. You’ll be with my mom and my younger siblings too.”

Camilla grinned mischievously and introduced the children, one boy around Ayla’s age as the fart monster, and the slightly older girl as the poop monster.

To an adult like Estella, it was childish and crude. But Ayla burst into giggles.

‘So this is what experience with children looks like.’

Once Ayla finished greeting them, Camilla straightened up and met Estella’s eyes.

“The house is a bit small, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. It’s spacious.”

“Oh, come on. I know this place must feel smaller than a storage room compared to the manor you used to live in.”

“I haven’t always lived in such places. And you can just call me by name. I’m hardly in a position to be called madam anymore.”

“But…”

“If we’re living together, it’ll only feel awkward if you keep calling me that.”

Originally, Estella had promised Camilla a referral fee equivalent to ten percent of her wages. However, she later made another proposal.

In return for watching over Ayla while she worked, Estella offered to give Camilla half her total wages — 50 per cent — and to let her lodge at her house.

This sounded steep at first, but given the high cost of living in Shameron, it was a reasonable arrangement.

From Camilla’s perspective, it was a fair deal too. She couldn’t work with her injured leg anyway, so she might as well earn some extra money by looking after Ayla while caring for her siblings.

That was how Estella and Ayla came to live at Camilla’s house.

“Alright, that works. Oh—right! Here, take this.”

Camilla handed her a sheet of good-quality paper, filled neatly from top to bottom with writing.

“I asked the butler to write it out for me. I’m not very good at writing.”

Estella unfolded the paper and glanced over the tidy handwriting. It was a daily schedule for the mansion’s maid.

“There’s a lot to do, but at least I don’t have to serve tea directly to guests.”

Camilla murmured, her voice trailing off.

The schedule was so tightly packed that Estella understood her hesitation.

‘No wonder the pay’s high.’

Starting at six in the morning and working until half past eight in the evening wasn’t unusual for maids—but here, she’d be doing the work of multiple servants: the kitchen maid, the laundry maid, and more.

‘The salary makes sense, then.’

According to Camilla, the household even allowed maids to drink fine tea freely during the afternoon tea hour.

That alone was enough to make Estella look forward to the job despite how grueling it sounded.

“Oh! There’s one more important thing. Lord Wyndham—”

Estella, who had been listening quietly until then, raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“Lord Wyndham?”