Outside the apothecary, a decorated black carriage waited, drawn by one brown horse. A blue eagle crest marked each of its doors.
Inside the shop, a lean man in butler's attire stood in the customer area. Slick brown hair, silver-rimmed round reading glasses. He waited without moving.
The black haired woman leaned from behind the right side of the counter to see who her guest was.
She clicked her tongue in disapproval.
The butler bowed slightly. "Lady Farma, I hope I am of no disturbance." He straightened. "But I bring an urgent matter that requires your assistance."
Farma crossed her arms. "You are in fact disturbing me." Her voice was dismissive. "Tell me what you want and leave."
He bowed again. "I sincerely apologize, but this is a matter that requires your direct presence at the Comital Household."
She extended one hand and gestured with three fingers, inviting yet hostile. "Come closer."
The butler obeyed without a word, stepping up to the counter.
Breathing in the perfume around Lady Farma, his heartbeat and breathing grew uneven. "My lady, is this—" She reached across the counter and grabbed his bow tie, pulling him toward her.
Her voice rose. "I thought I told the Count that apart from my allowance I have nothing else to do with him."
Now closer to the source of the perfume, the butler began to feel dizzy. "..The young master is too young. He cannot deal with such matters on his own."
"As the only other legitimate member of the Countdom.." He took a breath. "..The other vassals, with the approval of the Young Master, have agreed on a stipend of one Leone."
". . ." She let go of him and looked down at the still open compartment below the counter. Inside were 21 Flora and 12 silver coins.
Damn it, that's more than what I make in a year.
She pursed her lips. "What's the frequency?"
The butler began fixing his bow tie. "Once every two months."
She reached down and closed the compartment.
"I accept."
. . .
One hour later, near the bakery intersection.
Jack came back up the street heading toward the Clock Tower Market. It was almost evening.
The air was slightly warm. The intersection was empty.
In his left hand he held the paper, the bundle of pen quills and the two candy sticks. In his right, the bottle of black ink.
I should have brought the cloth bag with me. I didn't expect to buy things other than bread. I didn't even find the place Jack worked at..
His gaze drifted to the alley the cat had squeezed into. Dark and narrow.
I'm exhausted.. I'll come back tomorrow.
If I still wake up in this world, that is.
He walked across the intersection toward the dirt road. Delma's bakery looked closed.
Still a kilometer to the shrine. Two until home.
. . .
A little while later, near the stone shrine that marked the street Jack lived on, now newly named Faithful Street.
Jack stopped at the shrine and looked at it. All the candles had melted down. The air around the street felt cold. The sun was completely hidden behind dark clouds.
I should have bought some candles.
He turned toward the end of the street and began making his way home, one step at a time.
On the way he passed one of the unmarked houses. In the yard stood a woman, slim as if she hadn't eaten for days. Her eyes were empty. She was repeatedly washing a rag full of holes on a wooden washboard. Her hands were almost bleeding.
Jack pursed his lips and looked straight ahead.
Maybe this neighborhood used to be more lively before this disease. Maybe there used to be children playing around just like the ones back in front of the bakery.
He kept thinking, and before he was aware of it he was already inside his home. The door and window were wide open, the stale air replaced with fresh cold air.
The furniture was still pushed to the center of the room where he had left it. The fishing spear was on the bed.
Jack set the paper, ink, pens and candy sticks on the bed, then began moving the table, chair and cabinet back into place.
He arranged the writing tools neatly on the table and placed the candy sticks to the left side of it. Then he closed the window and door, turning the room dim with only the faint light coming through the glass.
He sat at the table. Looked at the paper.
I really should have bought some candles.