North District Police Station. Temporary holding cells.
Hugh Dierchle — all four feet eleven of her — sat against the wall with a fresh piece of fruit that Fors had managed to smuggle in not long before.
She'd been locked up for several days now. In the beginning, she had kept her composure well enough. But once she learned she might be facing several years behind bars, composure had gone out the window entirely, and she'd even begun entertaining thoughts of breaking out.
She knew Fors had a remarkable bracelet that could spirit her out of the prison without a sound. But that would almost certainly mean she could never show her face in Backlund again.
And she still hadn't uncovered the truth behind her father's so-called "treason."
Fortunately, two days ago when Fors had come by with food, she'd mentioned that she had reached out through Viscount Glaint to a noblewoman of some standing — someone who might be able to change the situation.
Clang!
The outer gate opened. Hugh quickly hid the fruit. Footsteps approached, and a guard appeared at her cell door and unlocked it. "Hugh Dierchle. You're free to go."
"Really?"
"Move it."
The guard spoke with mild impatience.
She walked the long corridor, passed through three sets of iron doors, and followed the guard back to the intake room. She signed several documents, collected the belongings that had been confiscated on arrival, and was then escorted out in a state of complete bewilderment.
She hadn't the faintest idea what had just happened.
Was it the noblewoman that Fors had found through Glaint? But in that case, Fors would have come to meet her. Hugh scanned the surroundings. No sign of Fors.
Then a figure came sprinting toward her. "Hugh!!"
"Sherman?!"
Hugh stared at the thin, gangly man beaming in front of her. "What are you doing here? How did you even know I was getting out?"
Sherman's face was alight with happiness and just a trace of pride. "Because I'm the one who got you out!" For once, after all the times Hugh had helped him, he'd been the one to help her.
"What?"
Hugh couldn't quite believe it. She knew Sherman's situation — he had no connections to speak of. Barristers or nobility were entirely outside his world, or so she'd thought.
Sherman waved to someone nearby. Vincent, who had been leaning to one side, walked over.
"This is the lady who got you out!"
Hugh looked up at the tall woman. Certainly on the taller side. But not as pretty as Fors.
"In truth, the one who did the real work was a barrister," Vincent said. "I was only the go-between who introduced Sherman to him." She went into the familiar routine. "Allow me to introduce myself — my name is Natasha. I'm a broker: I connect people and smooth the way for solutions. Whatever problem someone has, I find the right person to solve it."
Well. The famous five-foot-nothing herself. I've been looking forward to this meeting.
"A broker?"
Hugh understood immediately what the woman meant. She'd dealt with this sort of person often enough — though she'd never heard one introduce themselves quite so plainly. Most brokers didn't draw such clear lines. If a commission was something they could handle themselves, they did; otherwise they farmed it out and took a cut. Drawing a clear distinction between the two was unusual.
Still, Hugh said warmly, "Thank you. Truly."
She then drew Sherman aside and murmured, "How much did this woman and the barrister cost in total?"
"Ah…" Sherman hesitated. "One pound."
"One pound?"
Hugh nearly yelped aloud. How could it possibly be that cheap? She was about to say that Sherman must have been swindled — then she remembered she was already standing outside the prison.
So it wasn't a swindle. Which meant there was something else going on.
Emperor Roselle once said: nothing is more expensive than what comes for free.
Sure enough, Sherman continued, "But the lady said she hopes I can introduce you to each other." He added quickly, "She said she's wanted to meet you for a long time."
Hugh's guard went up immediately. She walked back to Vincent. "Miss Natasha — Sherman tells me you wanted to meet me?"
"That's right."
Vincent smiled pleasantly. "I've heard that Miss Hugh has an excellent network of connections in Backlund — especially in certain… grey areas. What I'm hoping is that you'd be willing to put in a good word for me going forward."
"That's it?"
The request clearly surprised Hugh. "Just that?"
"Just that." Vincent nodded. "Though I do genuinely hope we can become real friends. Someone who's always willing to stand up for ordinary people — they'd only treat their friends even better. As Sherman's concern for you makes plain." He glanced toward Sherman.
Vincent extended a hand. "I wonder — would Miss Hugh be willing to be my friend?"
Hugh was quiet for a moment. Then she reached out and lightly clasped the slender, pale fingers in front of her. "Of course."
"Right, then. I have things to attend to, so I'll be off. If you need to find me, leave a message with Caspers Cantling at Bravehearts' Tavern."
Running into Hugh at all had been a stroke of luck. Vincent wasn't about to push things — he had no intention of coming on too strong only to be rebuffed. What mattered to him was Hugh's future, not her present usefulness.
Now that they'd met, the friendship could develop naturally.
Vincent walked away. Hugh watched until she could no longer see her, and then let out a small breath. She turned to Sherman with a very serious expression. "Where did you meet this woman?"
"Bravehearts' Tavern."
Sherman's face was still cheerful. "Who would've thought — in less than four hours, you were actually out. She really is a reliable broker."
Hugh caught the quiet joy lurking in Sherman's eyes and suddenly thought of something. "You didn't… you didn't tell her about wanting to become a woman, did you?"
"…"
Sherman froze. Then he looked away, flustered. "I…"
"Sherman. I believe you'd be happier as a woman. But something like that — it's the way you were born, and there's no changing it. The bigger the hope, the worse the fall. Do you understand?"
"But Miss Vincent said she would find a way to help me…"
Hugh frowned. "You'd rather believe someone you met half a day ago than believe me?"
"It's not that. I… I just can't afford to give up any hope."
"But a man cannot become a woman."
The colour drained slowly from Sherman's face. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. "I really do hope that one day I could be a real woman. Instead of…"
He wiped at the tears, smearing the cheap cosmetics across his cheek. "Instead of being the laughing stock that everyone else sees."
"But—"
"I'm sorry, Hugh. I… I need to go. I'm really glad you're all right."
Sherman forced a small smile and left quickly.
"…"
Guilt settled over Hugh. He was one of only two people who had worried and gone out of their way for her. How could she have said those things to him?
That was completely wrong of her.
"Hugh?!"
A voice came from behind her — a disbelieving voice. Fors's voice.
She hurried over, wide-eyed. "You're out? Viscount Glaint told me the earliest was tomorrow morning. Did it get moved up?"
"No. Sherman helped me."
"Sherman? Oh, I've heard you mention him before — was that the man just now?"
Fors's expression shifted suddenly to one of utter amazement. "My God, I had no idea you were this charming!!"
Hugh: "???"
"He was crying for you."
To be continued…