Teaching was never an easy job.

  Jade had always known that much. She thought she had taken it into account when she drafted her syllabus for the students, but reality proved otherwise.

  Her syllabus wasn’t working.

  “Miss Jade, how should I pronounce this word?” Johny Dan asked hesitantly, one hand raised.

  “Scissors.” Jade mentally pushed aside the lesson she had planned for the day and addressed the class instead.

  “Alright, let’s repeat the story I gave you yesterday. Repeat after me. Fingers on the words as you read - recognise them first. Later, we’ll build sentences using the words in the story. Now, the first paragraph…”

  The students sat on newly purchased benches, each holding a slate. A single sheet of printed paper was clipped to every board, secured by a small metal fastener and a string tied around the slate.

  Jade’s first successful “invention” wasn’t her biscuit recipe, nor the facial cream she had shown to the noble-doe. It was this little metal fastener - a paperclip.

  She had made it using a simple bent mechanism, just to keep papers together. After all, she had grown tired of documents scattered across her desk, and bound notebooks didn’t suit her needs.

  Necessity really is the mother of invention, Jade mused wryly. The saying wasn’t wrong after all.

  The story on the paper was the first one she had ever written.

  It wasn’t mass-produced - hiring a printing house for a single-page story in such a small quantity would have been far too expensive. Instead, she used a traditional printing method available in the domus: a smooth stone plate, wax, and a sharpened metal tip. The process was tedious - coating the plate evenly with wax, carving the text into it, rolling ink over the surface, pressing paper down, then rolling again so the ink transferred only from the exposed stone surface.

  The clergy hadn’t used the equipment in years. Dust coated it so thickly that a monk had to dig it out for her beneath layers of stuff.

  She felt slightly apologetic that her students had to endure her mediocre handwriting, but this was the best she could offer for now.

  The story itself was simple, filled with everyday words. Even so, students often forgot words they had learned just the day before. Some still couldn’t write all the letters of the alphabet, which made learning new vocabulary even harder.

  Looks like I’ll have to adjust the syllabus again, Jade thought. One semester might need to be split into two.

  Well, it wasn’t like she could blame herself too much. She was a cake decorator, not an educator. She had done her best, and no one was allowed to emotionally blackmail her for failing to be a perfect teacher!

  Still, Jade rubbed her face and spent the entire afternoon racking her brain, trying to come up with a better teaching method - something that would actually motivate the children to learn.

  Compared to the first week, the students now seemed less enthusiastic. Their eagerness had faded.

  So… what changed?

  The next day, Jade decided to review mathematics instead.

  “Alright,” she said, “How many of you have memorized the times table?”

  The response was immediate.

  Hands shot up across the room. Faces lit up with excitement.

  Jade blinked. She randomly pointed to a few students, “Up to which number?”

  “Eight!”

  “Seven!”

  “Twelve!”

  That was… completely unexpected.

  She paused, then raised her hand like an orchestra conductor. “Okay. Times table to the side - no looking. Let’s recite together, starting with two.”

  “Two two equals four. Three two equals six. Four two equals eight…”

  Most of the students managed to recite up to six. Some began to trail off after seven, and only a handful continued all the way to twelve. When the final number was spoken, Jade led the class in a round applause for those shy yet proud children who had managed to finish.

  She understood why Chinese students could memorize the times table so quickly - reciting them in Chinese language sounded like rhyme, almost like a song with rhythm and beats. It flowed naturally.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  But teaching multiplication in English was different. English wasn’t her first language. She hadn’t grown up learning math this way, and honestly, she had no idea how Western children were usually taught multiplication.

  Tilting her head, Jade asked out of curiosity, “How did you all learn the times table so fast?”

  Penny, one of the students who had recited all the way to twelve, answered after a brief hesitation. “I use it everyday. Um… My papa works at the port. He has to count a lot of goods before storing them in the warehouse. He knew I was learning math, so he took me along to help.”

  They need practical use to remember things!

  This realisation hit Jade immediately.

  She had never been that kind of student herself. She was the bookworm type, memorizing knowledge through reading and homework was sufficient for her. It wasn’t until she got into baking that she learned reading alone only got her so far - hands-on practice mattered far more in terms of culinary.

  Dang it. How did I forget something this basic?

  Jade finished the lesson with her thoughts scattered, but by the afternoon, she had already come up with something practical for the students to do.

  And that was why Lord Ashborne encountered several ragged school children on his way to an apothecary - one his father had designated as part of his younger sister’s dowry. He had come to consult the chemist about a basic cream formula, hoping to replicate the skin care product his sister currently used. What he hadn’t expected was to see a group of children standing before the shop, whispering encouragement to one another before daring to enter.

  “Children,” Ashborne asked gently, startled the three - two boys and a girl, all around nine years old - into jumping. They turned toward him with wide eyes.

  They studied him for a moment before one of the boys exclaimed, “He’s the good sir who sponsors our school!”

  The other boy and the girl immediately straightened and bowed slightly. “Good afternoon, good sir!”

  Ashborne didn’t correct their phrasing. He lifted a hand to stop Mr. Trent from doing so and nodded instead. “Good afternoon. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “Oh–yes,” the boy replied timidly. “Good sir, we’re here to finish our homework. An assignment from Miss Jade.”

  Ashborne raised a brow and lightly tapped his walking stick toward the apothecary dore. “Homework… involving a chemist? As I understand it, Miss Jade wouldn’t send her students to buy things from a store full of chemicals.”

  “Of course not!” The boy hurried to say. “Miss Jade told us to visit shops and ask the shopkeepers for the names of five items they have.”

  “This does sound like something Miss Jade would assign,” Ashborne murmured with a nod. He looked at the children again. “And you choose the apothecary?"

  The three nodded. “All the others went to grocers and butchers,” the boy said, a hint of pride in his voice. “We figured no one else would think of this kind of classy shop.”

  Ashborne chuckled softly. “Well then, I won’t hold you up. Go on and ask. I’ll take a look around the shop while you work on your assignment.”

  “Thank you, good sir!” the girl replied eagerly.

  The boys linked, momentarily puzzled by her excitement, but followed her all the same as they pushed the door open.

  “Good day… children?” The apprentice, who had been writing behind the counter, raised his head in confusion as the three children - clearly dressed in lower class attire - approached him.

  Their untidiness struck him out of place in an apothecary. However, he quickly noticed the nobleman and his servant standing a short distance behind them - not close, but unmistakably watching how he handled the situation. It was obvious they preferred him to attend to the children first.

  Swallowing his discomfort, the apprentice forced a polite smile. “What can I help you with today?”

  “Hello, sir!” The girl stepped forward, her round eyes bright and her smile practiced, clutching a sheet of paper in her hand. “We’re from the Domus Ragged School of Wyrnfield. We’ve come for an assignment from our teacher, Miss Jade Lysmere.”

  The apprentice’s curiosity was piqued. “What kind of assignment?”

  “Miss Jade asked us to write down the names of five items found in a shop,” the girl replied earnestly. “With the shopkeeper’s permission, of course.”

  She blinked her wide, puppy-like eyes. “Good sir, would you allow us to do our assignment here?”

  After a brief pause, the apprentice nodded. “I see no reason why not. It’ll do you lot some good to learn a thing or two. Now then, what would you like to know?”

  The girl pointed to a piece of glassware on the counter, “What is this?”

  “A flask.”

  “How do you spell that?”

  He spelled the word carefully, watching as the children scribbled it down - then promptly began arguing among themselves about how the letter “k” should be written.

  The process repeated for several more items.

  When they were finished, the children beamed at him. “Thank you, good sir! Could you please write the shop’s name at the bottom of our homework?”

  “Just the shop’s name?” He complied, using his own pen and ink. The children thanked him again and bowed before scampering out of the shop, chattering excitedly among themselves.

  The entire interaction had occurred mostly because he didn’t want to leave a poor impression on the nobleman observing from the side. Still, as he watched the children leave - despite their misspelled words and dreadful handwriting - he felt an unexpected warmth bloom in his chest.

  “Marvelous, isn’t it?” Ashborne waved to the departing children before approaching the counter. “The assignment, I mean. Now, although we haven’t met before, I believe your master has mentioned my visit today, Mr. Flint.”

  Flint straightened immediately. “My deepest apologies for not recognising you earlier, Lord Ashborne. Yes - my master informed me of your arrival. He was meant to be here, but he received an urgent summons from the police inspector regarding a case involving poison. He left this notebook for your use.”

  Ashborne accepted the notebook, brows lighting slightly. “A poison case? What a pity. I had hoped to discuss the production of facial cream with him.”

  Unsure how to respond, Flint continued dutifully. “My lord, your own chemist should have no difficulty replicating the formulas within. My master also offers his services to your laboratory, should any need arise.”

  “Hm.” Ashborne rubbed his chin, studying the young apprentice. “Tell me - can you make facial cream? Preferably the most basic kind?

  “Yes,” Flint replied, blinking. “I can, my lord.”

  “Excellent!” Ashborne clapped his hand lightly, smiling with genuine enthusiasm. “Then I suppose speaking with you will suffice. Let us begin our journey into the investigation of a new kind of facial cream!”

  Flint tilted his head, “?”