Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The small inn was a long walk from the station.

She’d nearly given herself a migraine trying to find the best place within her non-existent budget. If Arthur—that filthy, lust-driven parasite—hadn’t suddenly demanded a corporate payout, babbling about profit shares and ownership stakes, she might’ve been able to afford a proper hotel.

Fueled by bubbling rage, Rose shot to her feet.

Even with weight-reduction magic on her luggage, her shoulder felt like it would fall off; her fingers were numb. Under normal circumstances, she could’ve made the bags lighter, but she had overused what little magic she had left while frantically clearing out her office and rented room. There was no margin left for more spells.

“You’re not winning this, Arthur.”

Dragging her weary feet, she clenched her teeth. “I’ll show you what success looks like. You’ll pay for betraying me, Arthur Granfield—just wait and see!”

“I’ll strike gold in Linden and live like a queen, just watch!”

Spurred on in her quest by fury, Rose marched forward.

Yes. First she needed a room, then an office. She’d set up her new identity and start circulating her name at social gatherings. If she gave a few free demonstrations, it’d help her draw in potential clients.

A fresh life in a new city.

To say she wasn’t scared would be a lie—but the excitement and anticipation far outweighed her fear.

Until reality came knocking.

And then everything started to unravel.

“Prices… are insane.”

Why was a single apple at a street vendor this expensive?

“The air pollution’s unbelievable.”

Less than an hour in Linden and her eyes were stinging, her nose burned, and her throat itched.

“Rent prices… this can’t be real.”

She’d glanced at a listing posted outside a real estate office—every figure was outrageous.

Later, the future Rose Taylor would deeply regret not turning around and going straight back to Romberton.

“How the hell is rent for both rooms and offices higher than in the capital?”

Standing outside the inn she had chosen using the travel guide, Rose shouted before she could stop herself.

The fact that this run-down place cost nearly as much as a small hotel was ridiculous enough—but this was the cheapest option available!

The meager breakfast included in the room rate sat in front of her, untouched and unappetizing.

“Lots of investors coming in these days, that’s why prices are rising,” the innkeeper lady casually replied, overhearing her.

“Investors?”

“Because Dautryche Company is expanding their textile factories here. With more people moving in, real estate investors are getting bold.”

Dautryche Company?

Rose’s eyes widened.

Why is that name coming up here?

Even though she had nothing to feel guilty about, the mention of it made her stomach twist.

“Thanks to that, prices are up and there’s barely a moment to breathe—hohoho!”

“Ha… ha… Yes, I suppose higher prices let you raise room rates too.”

Rose forced a polite social smile, her lips twitching in annoyance.

It wasn’t the inflated room fee that irritated her, it was James Dautryche.

Yes—he was the problem.

If he hadn’t sent a telegram an hour after she threw out his lawyer and secretary, saying he’d visit in person, she wouldn’t have rushed to Linden like this.

She had run here to escape his bizarre obsession, only to find herself tangled up in his influence again.

Was it so wrong to feel fed up?

Between the fury she still felt toward Arthur and the irritation James had stirred up, she’d completely forgotten how exhausted she was.

Maybe that was it—she was just too tired, which was why everything felt worse.

After all, she had spent two hours crammed into a hard wooden seat on a train, juggling multiple suitcases and getting no rest. Her whole body ached.

Rose decided to eat, then take a nap.

Searching for a room in a strange city on an empty stomach and no sleep was madness.

She scarfed down her meal and collapsed onto the inn’s bed, falling instantly into a deep sleep.

Was it exhaustion? Or was the bed simply that uncomfortable?

She dreamt a nightmare so vivid it left her shaking. Arthur Granfield, pantsless, and James Dautryche, stark naked, were running towards her holding roses, both shouting marriage proposals.

Three days of walking her feet off.

At last, Rose signed a lease for an office on the outskirts of the commercial district.

“Excellent, Miss Alice Hampton. Just transfer the rent to this account by the end of each month.”

“I look forward to working with you.”

“Oh my, likewise! Best of luck with your business!”

The landlord handed her the keys and left with the speed of a summer breeze.

For Linden, this was practically a steal: a furnished office with a desk, chairs, a reception sofa set, and even a bookshelf packed with encyclopedias and natural history volumes.

So now, this place belonged to Rose Taylor—no, Alice Hampton’s Institute of Psychic Studies.

Her heart raced at this first solo lease, her first solo contract.

The place, long vacant, was surprisingly clean and pleasant.

“I have a good feeling about this.”

A new life was beginning here.

And yet—once again, the future her would look back and say, “I should’ve turned around and gone back to Romberton while I still had the chance.”

Truly.

With tears and regret deep enough to make anyone watching cringe.

Because something terrible was coming.

But before we jump ahead, let’s check in on Rose Taylor’s current status.

She’d registered her business with Linden City Hall under her alias, Alice Hampton. She’d found a decent office.

“That just leaves… a place to live, right?”

There was one crucial piece missing: a boarding room.

“A boarding house for women? No, none. Not here. Not many young ladies come to Linden for work. If I had another room, I’d rent it to a man instead.”

“Miss, maybe raise your budget a little and rent a shared home?”

Every real estate agent gave her the same answer.

Even the newspaper listings were all for male boarders.

Of course, Linden wasn’t entirely devoid of women. Female workers were common in the factories, but most were locals or came with their families. A lone woman like Rose was a rare case.

“Unngh…!”

Rose dragged her now unenchanted luggage into her office, one heavy case at a time.

She had packed only the essentials, yet her four large travel trunks still weren’t quite enough.

Some of her books and tools she’d shamelessly mailed to her estranged family home—her version of a survival check-in, perhaps.

She unlocked the cases and they spilled their contents like overfed beasts.

She dug through the mess and pulled out a blanket.

“Hmm. It’s not that unlivable…”

That’s right.

No women’s boarding houses. No roommate options.

Renting a whole apartment alone was out of the question.

So?

It might be reckless, but for now, she could live in her office.

There was a public restroom in the building and she had already located a communal well nearby.

Heating water? Easy. With just a bit of neutral magic, she could manage basic domestic spells.

Until she landed her first performance gig, she’d simply have to rough it a little.

The future Rose would one day dream of going back in time to shake herself by the collar—but unless she returned to Romberton, there was no better option.

And so, Rose made the worst decision of her life.

Or… was it truly the worst?

Beneath every floor lies another: the second floor has the first below, beneath that the basement, and under that, the ground, and deeper still—soil and rot.

Rose’s life already had several contenders for “Worst Decision Ever”: running away, meeting Arthur, and sleeping with James Dautryche on the first night were all locked in heated competition.

Now, to this lovely mess, she added:
—Starting a business in Linden
—Living in her office

She had no idea what her future held.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go to the telecom office to request a phone line… and find a print shop for flyers.”

Still lost in hope and wonder at her new life, she remained blissfully blind—for now.