The golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm glow. Klein looked into Melissa's eyes, momentarily at a loss for words; every prepared line he had seemed suddenly irrelevant.
Clearing his throat, he quickly came up with a response. "Melissa, this isn't about wasting my salary. When Benson and I have colleagues over, should we really entertain them here? And what about when we get married? Are we still planning to sleep in bunk beds?"
"You don't even have a fiancée," Melissa replied firmly. "You can wait a little longer and save up."
"No, Melissa, it's about social expectations," Klein explained, slightly flustered. "If we're earning three pounds a week, we need to live in a way that reflects that status."
Truthfully, given his previous experience sharing a rented apartment, he wasn't personally troubled by their current setup. But he understood the inconveniences it posed for a young woman and knew that his own interest in the extraordinary, along with his dabbling in the occult, would eventually require more privacy. Living in a crowded building could attract too much attention.
Seeing Melissa preparing to respond, Klein quickly added, "Don't worry, I'm not looking to rent a whole house, just a row house, but one with its own washroom. And I do like Mrs. Sline's bakery, the Tingen bread, and the lemon cakes, so we could look around the areas near Cross Street and Waterflower Street."
Melissa pressed her lips together, deep in thought, and after a pause, slowly nodded in agreement.
"I'm not planning to move immediately either," Klein added with a smile. "We'll wait until Benson gets back, or else he'll walk in, completely panicked, saying, 'Where's my family? Where's my home? Did I enter the wrong place? Goddess, is this all a dream?'"
He imitated Benson's tone, which brought a smile to Melissa's face, dimples faintly appearing on her cheeks.
"No, Mr. Franzy will probably be waiting at the door, demanding Benson hand over the apartment keys. Benson wouldn't even make it upstairs," she joked, making fun of their miserly, money-minded landlord.
In the Moretti household, making Mr. Franzy the punchline of jokes was a family tradition started by Benson himself.
"Exactly! He'd never even consider changing the locks for future tenants," Klein laughed, pointing toward the door playfully. "Miss Melissa, shall we go celebrate at the Silver Crown Restaurant?"
Melissa sighed softly. "Klein, do you remember Selena? My classmate, my good friend?"
Selena? An image of a girl with auburn hair and deep brown eyes appeared in Klein's mind. Her parents were devout followers of the Night Goddess, and they had named her after the saint, hoping it would bring her blessings. She was not yet sixteen, just a few months younger than Melissa, and was a cheerful, outgoing girl.
"Yes," Klein nodded, confirming he remembered Selena Wood.
"Her brother, Chris, is a solicitor earning close to 3 pounds a week. His fiancée works part-time as a typist," Melissa began, setting up her point before continuing, "They've been engaged for over four years, and to ensure they can have a stable, decent life after marriage, they're still saving up. They haven't walked down the aisle yet and plan to wait at least another year. According to Selena, people around her brother's age often don't marry until they're at least 28, so they have time to save. You should be thinking ahead and saving carefully, not wasting money."
Klein couldn't help but chuckle, unsure if he should laugh or cry. Was going out for dinner really that big of a deal? After a moment, he replied, "Melissa, I'm earning 3 pounds a week now, and my salary will increase each year. There's no need to worry."
"But we should save for unexpected situations. What if that security company suddenly shuts down? I have a classmate whose father's company went bankrupt. He had to take temporary jobs at the dock, and their family's financial situation collapsed. She had to drop out of school," Melissa said seriously, genuinely trying to advise him.
Klein covered his face for a moment, sighing. "That security company has some connections with the government… it won't go under just like that."
"But even the government isn't stable. After each election, if the party changes, almost every position is reshuffled, causing a lot of chaos," Melissa argued persistently.
Klein couldn't help but laugh, a bit exasperated. *She knows quite a lot…*
"Fine…"
"Then I'll make a soup with the leftovers from yesterday. You go to the street market and buy a pan-fried meatfish, a piece of beef with black pepper sauce, a small tin of cream, and a ginger beer. Just a little celebration," she suggested.
These were typical offerings at the street vendors on Iron Cross Street—a pan-fried meatfish cost around 6 to 8 pence, a modest-sized piece of beef with black pepper sauce about 5 pence, ginger beer 1 pence, and a quarter-pound of cream around 4 pence—though buying a whole pound would only cost 1 shilling and 3 pence.
Klein quickly calculated that it would cost around 1 shilling and 6 pence, so he took out two 1-shilling notes.
Melissa accepted without further objections. She set down her bag, took the notes, and began preparing her containers for the cream and other ingredients, stepping lightly toward the door.
Klein called out to her, "Melissa, use any leftover change to buy some fruit."
Many street vendors along Iron Cross Street sold bruised or nearly overripe fruit from other markets at low prices. People here didn't mind—they just cut off any bad spots and enjoyed the rest, a small indulgence on a tight budget.
After a moment's thought, Klein approached her quickly, taking the remaining copper pennies from his pocket and placing them in her palm.
"Huh?" Melissa looked at him, brown eyes full of curiosity.
Klein stepped back, smiling. "Make sure to stop by Mrs. Sline's shop and treat yourself to a small piece of lemon cake."
Melissa's mouth opened slightly, her eyes blinking in surprise. After a pause, she managed a single word, "Alright."
She quickly turned, opened the door, and dashed down the stairs, her footsteps echoing as she made her way out.
A river flows through, flanked by rows of cypress and maple trees, the air so fresh it almost feels intoxicating.
Klein, here to address his interview matters, walked down from the public carriage after paying the 6-pence fare. With his revolver at his side and a cane in hand, he strolled along the cement path toward the three-story brick building nestled within a cover of greenery—the administrative building of Tingen University.
"Truly one of the most prestigious universities in the Kingdom of Ruen…" Klein, experiencing this place for the "first" time, murmured in admiration as he approached.
In comparison, Hoy University across the river seemed almost plain.
"Hai-yah! Hai-yah!"
The synchronized calls of rowers grew nearer as two racing boats shot down from the upstream of Hoy River, their oars moving in perfect rhythm.
Rowing was a popular sport across all universities in the Kingdom of Ruen. Given Klein's background, where he had to rely on scholarships to complete his studies, he, along with Welch and others, had once joined Hoy University's rowing club and was quite proficient in the sport.
"So young…" Klein sighed as he stopped to watch.
In a week, such scenes would fade as the university was about to go on summer break.
He continued along the tree-lined path until he reached the gray, three-story brick building. After signing in, he entered smoothly, making his way to the office where he'd been received last time.
Knock, knock, knock. He tapped his fingers lightly on the half-open door.
"Come in," a male voice called from within.
As Klein stepped inside, the middle-aged man in a white shirt and black tailcoat looked up, frowning slightly. "The interview isn't for another hour."
"Mr. Stone, do you remember me? Klein Moretti, Professor Cohen's student. You've read my letter of recommendation," Klein said with a polite smile, removing his hat.
Harwin Stone stroked his black mustache thoughtfully, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Is there something I can help you with? I'm not in charge of the interview."
"Well, actually, I've found a job, so I won't be attending the interview today," Klein explained.
"I see…" Harwin Stone nodded, rising and extending his hand. "Congratulations. A polite young man indeed. I'll be sure to inform the professor and the other senior faculty members."
Klein shook his hand, intending to exchange a few pleasantries and take his leave, but suddenly, a familiar voice called from behind him.
"Moretti, you found another job?"
"Good morning, Professor, Mr. Azik," Klein greeted hastily, bowing slightly. "What brings you here?"
The elder was none other than Quentin Cohen, the senior professor of history at Hoy University and Klein's mentor. Beside him stood a middle-aged man with a medium build, bronze-toned skin, and gentle features. He held a newspaper, wore a hat, had black hair and brown eyes, and bore a difficult-to-spot black mole below his right ear. Klein knew him as Mr. Azik, a history teacher at Hoy University who often assisted the former Klein. Azik and Professor Cohen frequently argued over academic viewpoints yet maintained a strong friendship; they were often seen deep in conversation.
Cohen nodded and replied in his usual measured tone, "Azik and I are here for an academic conference. So, what job have you found?"
"A security company focused on locating, collecting, and preserving ancient artifacts. They need a historical consultant—three pounds a week," Klein said, repeating the explanation he'd given his sister the previous day. "You know me; I enjoy exploring history rather than simply analyzing it."
Cohen nodded approvingly. "Everyone has their own path. I'm glad you remembered to inform Tingen University instead of simply not showing up."
At this, Azik interjected, "Klein, do you know what happened with Welch and Naya? The newspaper mentioned they were murdered in a home invasion."
A home invasion? And already in the papers? Klein was momentarily taken aback, choosing his words carefully. "I don't know the full details myself. Welch had found a notebook from the Solomon Empire's Antigonus family of the Fourth Epoch. He asked me to help decipher it, so I assisted for a few days but then got busy looking for work. The police questioned me about it a couple of days ago."
He purposely dropped the names "Solomon Empire" and "Antigonus family" to see if the two history professors might recognize them.
"The Fourth Epoch…" Cohen murmured, frowning.
Azik, his bronze skin and world-weary eyes hinting at untold stories, appeared momentarily stunned. He then inhaled deeply and rubbed his temple with his left hand, which still held the newspaper. "Antigonus… it sounds familiar, but I can't quite recall where I've heard it before…"