By then, the moon was hanging high in the sky, surrounded by a scattering of stars.

As they stepped out of the carriage, Yuu took a good look at Clara’s home. It was a humble two-story building made of aged bricks. A small garden in front appeared neglected, with overgrown and untended plants.

The wooden door, weathered by time, was closed, and the house had only a few bare windows without curtains.

Suddenly, Yuu sneezed, finding herself shivering as she hugged herself. Her damp clothes clung to her frame, and droplets of water trickled from her hair.

Clara offered her a gentle smile. “Come in, everyone. Let’s warm ourselves inside my humble home. It may not be a grand estate, but I’ll have it warm in no time.”

As they stepped inside, Clara hurried to start a fire in the fireplace and lit a candle on the table.

After that, she showed them where they could hang their clothes and handed them ragged blankets.

“They aren’t made of silk or the finest materials you nobles are used to, but I hope they will be enough for now,” she remarked.

Once Yuu, Victor, and William had settled in and were seated around a small table by the fireplace, Clara said, “I’ll make some tea,” and hurried to the small kitchen next to the living room.

Yuu sat down, wrapped in a blanket, wearing only her undergarments, while William and Victor remained in their pants with blankets draped over their shoulders. She glanced around the room. The house felt quite empty - just a small table near the fireplace, four chairs, and a few photographs hanging on the walls. The wallpaper was faded, its original colour long lost to time.

Clara returned from the kitchen with a tray carrying four cups of tea, handing one to each of them. She sat down at the table, a blanket already draped over her shoulders, with her undergarments faintly visible beneath it.

The candlelight framed her face, casting a soft shadow on her forehead.

A moment of silence passed. Clara took a sip of her tea, set the cup down, and inhaled deeply, as if preparing herself for the conversation ahead. Everyone waited, wondering what the older woman would say and what sorrow had led her to this turning point in her life.

 

Clara sighed and glanced at Yuu, William, and Victor, ensuring she had their full attention before speaking. “You claim you can help me. We’ll see if that’s true once you hear my story.”

She paused for a moment, her voice steady as she continued. “I had a husband named Henry. Our marriage was a happy one, and I will always cherish our wedding day. It was the happiest day of our lives.” A genuine smile crossed her face as she rested her hand on her heart. “A year into our marriage, we were blessed with a healthy baby boy we named Archie. He was clever and kind, growing up surrounded by our love.

“Everything seemed perfect. Henry worked at a steel factory while I stayed home to care for our son. The pay wasn’t much, but it was enough, and the hours were stable. The owner was a kind, generous man who treated everyone equally. However, the factory was small, and the owner was a commoner like us. He was pressured by larger companies, and eventually, when he fell into debt, he was forced to sell the factory to settle his obligations.

“That was the turning point in our lives. At first, nothing seemed different - it felt as if only the owner had changed. But the hours grew longer, and the new owner was always dissatisfied. If there was even the slightest mishap, he would cut his employees’ wages. His name was Edward Bailey.”

 

Clara paused to sip her tea. Her hands trembled slightly, and she almost spilled the tea when placing the cup back on the table. “As the hours grew longer and the conditions worsened, the lord seemed increasingly dissatisfied with the workers,” she continued, her gaze growing distant. “Eventually, he cut their wages in half. Henry became overworked, and one day, he fell ill.

“Even though he was ill, Henry continued to work as usual, despite my pleas for him to stay in bed. He brushed me off, insisting he felt fine. The truth was, he didn’t want to lose his job; it was our only means of survival. I knew I had to do something, so I decided to help out too. Working with a small child was challenging, but I was determined. I started washing clothes for the ladies and doing some sewing, fitting everything in while Archie napped or during the nights. But then, one day, Henry collapsed at work. Lord Bailey didn’t lift a finger to help him; he simply said that if Henry couldn’t work, then he didn’t belong there - and he was fired.”

Clara’s voice faltered, and her hands trembled slightly as they clutched the hem of the blanket. She took a deep breath, trying to hold back her tears. “We didn’t have the money to buy medicine, and… and…” She paused again, then, with a breaking voice, she added, “He died.

“I remember standing by Henry`s grave with our son. Archie looked up at me and asked, ‘Mama, will Papa get up again? Will he play with me again?’ I didn’t know how to answer. I just smiled at him and hugged him close; he was too young to understand. I told him… I told him that Papa would one day be reunited with us and that we would all be together again. Or at least that’s what I wanted to say. But deep down, I knew the road ahead would be a much darker one.” Clara could no longer suppress her emotions, and tears began to dampen her cheeks.

 

For a moment, Clara paused to wipe away her tears. Yuu, William, and Victor sat in silence, feeling the weight of her emotions as if the entire room were wrapped in her sorrow.

Yuu stood up and took a step closer to the older woman. “If it’s too much, you can take a break, or we can continue the conversation tomorrow evening,” she said, gently brushing Clara’s hair, as if trying to soothe her.

William nodded. “Don’t push yourself, madam. There’s no rush.”

 

Clara took a deep breath. “I... I’ve already started, and... I’ll do my best to finish. Because if not now, I don’t think I’ll be able to relive these memories again.”

“Take your time, madam,” Victor said gently. “Your well-being is what matters most.”

Her face still damp, Clara took a sip of her tea, then set the cup down with a trembling hand.

“I’m alright now,” she said, looking at Yuu, who was still gently brushing her hair.

Yuu nodded and sat back down.

“When Henry died, I knew I was the only one who could provide for this family,” Clara continued. “So, I took on more shifts sewing and washing clothes. It wasn’t much, but at least I could afford food and essentials for Archie. It wasn’t an easy feat, but I did my best.

“Archie was a good kid, surrounded by love. But as he grew older, I became more and more exhausted, teetering on the edge of illness. My boy... he saw it, even though I never complained and did my best to hide it. He was a smart, kind-hearted lad.

“When he was five, he told me he wanted to help and earn money. I didn’t want him working at such a young age, so I told him he needed to wait until he was older. He wasn’t happy about it. He could be a stubborn boy, too, you see.”

Clara smiled softly at the memory of her Archie. Her face was like an open book, filled with sorrow -yet beneath it all, there was a gentle warmth that refused to fade.

“We agreed that we would wait until he was older,” Clara went on, “and then, together, we would decide what he could do. I wanted a better life for him, so I let him study and read books. I used to take him to the library, where he would explore the world of knowledge.

“At first, he chose books with more pictures, but soon he started reading about history and learning on his own. I would leave him at the library while I worked and return later to pick him up. I had no idea that, in the meantime, he was sneaking out to help the older ladies in our neighbourhood - selling flowers or running small errands for them. It was his way of contributing, of bringing a little money home.

“When Archie was about fifteen, one of his friends asked if he wanted to join him in working at Lord Bailey’s manor, as the lord was looking for help at the time.

“I didn’t want him working for the lord because of what had happened to Henry, but Archie insisted. I had never told him the truth about his father’s death - I didn’t want him to grow up holding a grudge. His friend was already employed at the manor and assured him the pay wasn’t bad. I was firmly against it, but Archie refused to back down.

“In the end, I told him to be wary of the lord - and to leave immediately if something didn’t feel right. He promised me he would.

“At first, Archie seemed to enjoy working there. On the surface, the lord was kind to him, and my son handled all sorts of tasks: cleaning, tending to the horses in the stables, running errands. The lord appeared pleased with his work.

“But then Archie began noticing strange things. The lord frequently met with odd, secretive people.

“One day, while going about his duties, Archie overheard a disturbing conversation. They were talking about a ‘game’ and its grounds - gathering poor commoners from the streets and forcing them into a rigged gamble. The lords were always meant to win, though the commoners wouldn’t know that.

“The so-called reward for winning was a granted wish. But in reality, the game was nothing more than cruel entertainment. The commoners were the true targets - hunted down and shot as they ran for their lives. The game of tag, as they called it.

“Even though Archie was young, the idea terrified him. He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t tell anyone. Who would believe him? His word against Lord Bailey’s? Of course, the lord would win. He didn’t even tell me, knowing that I wouldn’t let him work at the manor again. But he was persistent and continued doing everything he could to earn the money we so desperately needed.

“For a while, Archie kept it to himself. But eventually, he confided in his friend, who also worked for Lord Bailey. His friend just laughed, dismissing it as Archie’s imagination or a misunderstanding. Then, with a smirk, he added, ‘If you want me to believe you, you’ll need proof.’”