Jade arrived at the domus in late spring.

  She was appointed as teacher and taught throughout the summer. According to her original syllabus, one semester lasted roughly three months, after which the students would have a school break of one to two weeks before the second semester began.

  However, after learning about the harvest schedule from the nearby farms and orchards, she changed her mind.

  “So September and October are the peak harvesting seasons,” Jade said, looking around the classroom. “Many of you will be working temporarily on the farms during that time, correct?”

  Several students nodded. Jade rubbed her chin for a long moment before making her decision. “Then your semester break will last until the end of October. We’ll begin the next semester in November. By then, our classroom will be ready - with a fireplace and a proper hearth.”

  “But Miss Jade,” one of the girls raised her hand, “we only work during the day time. We could still attend class in the evening.”

  Jade shook her head. “It isn’t safe to walk at night without proper lighting. Some of you live at the edge of the parish - that’s a long walk in the dark. I do not want to hear that one of my students fell into a pond or a ditch and drowned, or froze to death, all because they wanted to attend a night class.”

  “How about two hours before supper*?” another boy suggested. “We could have class at four, then eat supper here at six. The sun won’t have set by the time we head home.”

  “Farm work isn't easy,” Jade replied, shaking her head again. “You’ll all be exhausted. And I doubt the farm steward* would allow you to leave early while others are still working. If you can return home early, I’d rather you rest properly and sleep.”

  Seeing the disappointment on their faces, Jade felt a twinge of guilt.

  In her previous life, children weren’t supposed to work - or worry about whether they would be able to feed themselves tomorrow. Still, she couldn’t deny a quiet sense of pride. They genuinely liked her lessons - so much so that they were reluctant to take a holiday!

  It was a sharp contrast to her own childhood, when all she had ever wished for during school was a break.

  Even so, she wasn’t particularly eager to continue teaching. Her students weren’t bookish types, which meant she had to design lessons that were practical, physical, and creative - methods unheard of in this place. The stories she’s written, page after page of reading material, had grown into a thick manuscript that could practically be bound and titled Bedtime Stories for the Young Ones. It hardly resembled a proper textbook, but it was the best she could manage given the circumstances.

  “Two weeks from now, you’ll have an exam to assess what you’ve learned this semester,” Jade announced.

  To her astonishment, the students looked pleased - eager, even. Another sharp contrast to her former life, where exams had been every children’s greatest dread.

  “I hope you’ve kept all the notes and copied texts from this semester,” she continued. “They’ll be included in the exam. Review them carefully. After that, your holiday begins. Understood?”

  “Understood!” The students replied in unison.

  After class, Jade returned to her room, took her apron and her recipe notes, and headed straight for the bakehouse - the one housing the brick oven made of construction scraps.

  Yes - this was the very brick oven she had requested and had the construction team build a couple of months ago.

  At first, she had planned for nothing more than an outdoor oven, perhaps with a simple shed. That plan changed after her first batch of biscuits - especially when the noble-doe happened to be visiting and sampled them as his afternoon tea. From that day on, everyone in the domus agreed that the oven deserved its own room. They even deliberately left space to accommodate the iron oven she had intended to purchase long before she even began selling baked goods.

  Not that she doubted her own skills - she was a professional, after all - but the praise received certainly helped bolster her confidence.

  The construction team had likely received special instructions from their generous patron. The bakehouse was spacious enough to hold twenty people with plenty of room to move around. Old tables and chairs had even been brought in, leading Jade to suspect that everyone was already expecting her to hold baking lessons for the children here.

  Now, at last, she had finalized the recipe for her first product to be sold in Velport.

  She had done her research. The biscuits - though she preferred to call them cookies, as everyone here referred to these small, crunchy baked goods as biscuits - that she’d distributed to clergy and nearby neighbours helped her determine which product should come first, and her students contributed greatly by gathering information for her.

  Malt sugar*, made from barley mash as a substitute for rice, did not solidify as firmly as the sugar she remembered from her previous life. Still, the golden, sweet syrup was more than sufficient for her dough.

  Jam, made from the rejected fruit of nearby orchards and farms added a fresh sweet-and-sour flavour to the biscuits. She had considered using citrus peel, but there were no citrus groves anywhere near the domus. Imported citrus was available at the port, but the price was so expensive - Dang! The common fruits she’d taken for granted in her previous life were luxury items here! For the moment, seasonal fruits like strawberries and staple fruits such as apples were her best options - and even then, she had to preserve them into fruit leather, because once the season ended, fruits like strawberries would vanish from the local market entirely.

  Eggs, used sparingly as a wash, gave the biscuits a pleasant aroma - Gosh, eggs were expensive here! But then, she supposed it wasn’t that surprising; mass poultry farming didn’t exist yet, and it wouldn’t until vaccines were developed to keep entire flocks from being wiped out overnight.

  Baking powder, to provide the leavening and chewiness she needed. Initially, she’d considered baking butter cookies - their light and crispy texture would be a guaranteed hit - but butter was far too expensive for the lower and middle-class market she was targeting. She then thought of using beaten egg whites to at least achieve that “light” texture, but she’d dropped that idea too; as previously mentioned, eggs were just as much of a luxury here. So, baking powder was her best option.

  However, there was a problem: baking powder, a kitchen staple in her previous life, was still a rarity in this era, largely due to a lack of publicity. She’d had to ask the noble-doe to contact the inventor on her behalf to request permission to produce it herself. The answer had been a “yes”, though she wasn’t certain whether that agreement came from Lord Ashborne’s influence as a noble, or the inventor simply didn’t care about sharing the recipe.

  After much trial and error, she finally perfected a recipe that relied purely on flour, water, and her homemade malt sugar and baking powder. To finish them off, the biscuits were decorated with a thin egg wash and a single, precious drop of jam.

  These thoughts drifted through her mind as Jade worked the dough.

  Sister Miriam - a nun in her forties - noticed the bakehouse in use and hurried over to assist her.

  Clearly looking forward to the day the biscuits would be sold on Velport’s streets, she said cheerfully, “Miss Jade, have you decided when you’ll start selling them? I can’t wait to see the customers’ expressions. Seeing their happy faces will be delightful!”

  Jade smiled in response. “I was thinking of heading out today to scout locations suitable for selling biscuits. If possible, I’d also like to speak with the shopkeepers nearby and see whether they’d mind us setting up there. I’ll probably need to check several spots to find one that agrees. If today’s batch tastes as good as the previous ones - and the selling location is settled - we can start tomorrow.”

  “And you’ll bring the students along when you sell?” Sister Miriam asked.

  “Of course. They’ve been helping since day one. It’s time for them to actually put this into practice and learn how to sell a product.” Jade exhaled softly. “I hope they can make use of this knowledge and eventually start a small business of their own. It would make their lives easier.”

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  Sister Miriam looked at her with a warm smile. “You’re a very kind teacher, Miss Jade. Would you like me to help sell the biscuits tomorrow?”

  “That’ll be great! Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your study of Lumen Codex, of course,” Jade added quickly. The Lumen Codex was the religion’s central text - similar to the Bible - containing the ancient wisdom that formed the foundation of the Domus Lucis, a faith built on the belief that Light was the answer to all.

  “Helping you is also a way of honouring the Light, Miss Jade,” Sister Miriam said with a chuckle.

  Jade raised her brows, careful not to comment on another’s faith. Domus Lucis does sound like a nice religion, she thought. Maybe I should read their books - there may be passages suitable for teaching materials… With that, she returned her attention to the dough.

  As expected, the batch turned out perfectly. After confirming the quality, Jade set aside half of the biscuits as samples for nearby shopkeepers - a small courtesy to ensure her modest stall would not be disturbed. She packed them into small pouches sewn from scrap fabrics she had acquired from a nearby textile factory and a dressmaker’s workshop, once again, through Lord Ashborne’s connections. These would serve as packaging for working- and middle-class customers; plain paper wrapping was far cheaper, but this offered a touch of refinement.

  Basket in hand, she set out for Velport.

  It took thirty minutes to reach the final street of the parish - an impoverished sprawl on the very edge of the parish where most of her students lived. This boundary marked the divide between private land and the city of Velport’s jurisdiction. Their landlord was lenient, charging low rent, the neighbourhood served as a sanctuary; living just a few feet away, within Velport itself, would have been far more demanding and unforgiving.

  Another thirty minutes of walking brought her to a livelier street, home to Velport city’s lower working class. The dignified middle class and the proud elite would be hesitant to set foot here, repelled by the sight of labourers in stained, sweat-soaked clothes and the sound of their rough, rustic dialects. It was a stark contrast to the sweet-scented, pristine environment that the gentlefolk surrounded themselves with.

  Jade, however, wasn’t concerned with the scenery; she was still reeling from the sheer length of her commute.

  A full hour on foot just to cross from the parish to the edge of the city. She almost laughed at the thought. In her previous life, she would never have walked an hour just to get somewhere, as an introvert who barely left her room unless work demanded it, such a trek was unimaginable. And yet, here she was.

  At least she wore leather boots rather than straw sandals like the poorest peasants of ancient Chinese dynasties.

  The walk wasn’t exactly pleasant. The path was little more than an unpaved trail, flattened daily by carriage wheels, where no grass dared to grow - it was easy to imagine the muddy nightmare it would become in the rain! Occasionally, horse dung littered the way - uncleared and unmissable. Apparently, no one was responsible for cleaning roads outside Velport’s respectable districts, leaving the streets with an aroma that some extreme environmentalist in her previous life might have called “nature scent”.

  Jade had to be very careful where she stepped - she did not enjoy scrubbing filth off her shoes and dresses.

  Every now and then, an empty carriage passed by, offering her a ride. Though she would love to escape the rough path, she shook her head each time. Dang, taxis here are expensive!

  Not in a hurry, she walked at a comfortable speed, taking a minute or two to admire the view whenever her legs complained.

  This was her third trip to Velport.

  The first had been to register at some government department, ensuring she wasn’t an illegal resident who skipped taxes. Father Rochester had rented a carriage to send her, and at the time, she hadn’t realised how much the White Robe had spent. Her focus had been entirely on the offices and calming her nerves.

  The second trip was purely exploratory, a scout for future job opportunities for when she finally resigned as a teacher and left the domus. She had followed Sister Miriam to the streets to help with the grocery shopping, and only then did she realise how the currency actually worked - shocked by how much Father Rochester had spent last time.

  She was even more shocked by the scarcity of work for a young, single woman. She could work as a maid in one of the Houses - a respectable position that would make her friends and family very proud - or as a match girl, which she quickly crossed the latter off her list after realising there were no health and safety officers here to worry about workplace hazards. She would surely die young and waste her second life if she dared to work in one of these factories.

  It wasn’t that there were no jobs at all, but they were gatekept. Employers preferred relatives or skilled daughters of the city, and most roles required specific talents like professional sewing or the refined etiquette needed to serve the rich.

  Bakeries were an option, too, but her bread-making skills were disastrous compared to her cake decorating. The confectioneries that sold cakes were considered luxury boutiques; they wouldn’t hire a nobody, and would likely only consider someone with a recommendation from a prestigious foreign culinary school.

  Teaching at a charity school was, for now, her best choice.

  And she definitely didn’t want to spend her future mornings dodging piles of uncleaned horse dung on the way to work. Never in her wildest dream did she think “avoiding manure” would become a primary criterion for a career move.

  Great, Jade thought wryly. Not only was I a shut-in introvert in my previous life, but apparently, I’ll be the same in this one too! The outside world is just too aggressive and malicious for an indoor nerd like me…

  Still, for the sake of her students and the school’s tiny bakery, she pressed on. Her destination was a high-traffic street on the outer edge of the Velport. Yes, even after an hour of walking, she still hasn't arrived; she was currently traversing the poorer district of the city.

  This had better be worth it, or else… Jade mused as she navigated the slums. She caught sight of one of her students helping her mother with laundry in a communal yard where several other washerwomen were gathered. The mountain of clothes suggested the mother was a professional laundress - a back-breaking, physically demanding job, but at least it was a reliable way for a physically fit woman to earn a living.

  Jade’s mind began to wander. Or maybe, I could just dress up nicely and help Father Rochester meet the noble ladies for donations… Giving speeches and persuading people sounds like a job I could actually handle in this world.

  Her thoughts drifted as she studied the unfamiliar surroundings. She was still unsettled by her new life and didn’t know this world well yet, but at least she was starting to understand the lay of the land.

  Carriages drawn by horses, gentlemen with walking sticks, ladies carrying parasols and wearing poofy dresses, children hawking newspapers - everything before her looked exactly like scenes from a Western historical drama. Yet the details were off: the unfamiliar place names, the religion she had never heard of, the decorative patterns, the subtle difference in architectural style. All of it reminded her that this was not the Victorian Era she knew from her previous world, but an alternate one - Victorian-ish, at best.

  And the Queen on the throne was named Seraphina - Queen Seraphina of House Valehart. Technically speaking, this era should be called the Seraphina Era.

  Using the rough map she had sketched based on her students’ descriptions, Jade headed first to a large grocery store located at a junction where everyone passing through the area would inevitably walk by. A strategic location, she noted. The rent must be expensive.

  According to her students, this middle-aged shopkeeper was a kind man who sold crumbs and scraps from the bottoms of baskets - soap shavings, hardtack remnants - cheaply, to children who couldn’t afford full-priced goods. And it turned out they weren’t exaggerating.

  “You must be Miss Jade - the teacher of those scamps who’ve been going on and on about you!” The shopkeeper spoke with a slang Jade wasn’t familiar with, but judging by his wide smile and chuckle, it didn’t seem insulting.

  “They mentioned me?” Jade asked, genuinely surprised. That meant the children trusted him - enough to talk about their daily lives.

  “Oh, they certainly did!” Mr. Davidson, the shopkeeper, even led her to a small corner near the street entrance. “And here’s the spot those lads requested for your iron oven project.”

  Jade’s eyes widened. “They told you about that too?!”

  “They did indeed!” Mr. Davidson brushed his bushy beard, squinting as he clicked his tongue. “The biscuits you made - I can hardly believe they came from a teacher at a newly built ragged school. I’m sure you’ll reach your goal of getting that iron oven soon.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Davidson!” Jade beamed. “I hope setting up a stall here won’t inconvenience you. I’ll pay rent for the space…”

  “No need, Miss Jade,” Mr. Davidson sighed softly. “Those scamps remind me of my own son and daughter. I can’t do much, but lending a small space so you all can improve your lives - that much I can do..”

  Jade blinked, momentarily at a loss of words. Then she smiled. “Well then, how about a pack of biscuits as daily rent? I doubt a kind helper like you would turn that down.”

  Mr. Davidson chuckled. “Then, I’ll gladly accept this offer.”

  Jade distributed the biscuits in her basket - to Mr. Davidson of the grocery, Mr. Thornton of the chandlery, Madam Harrow of the dairy, Mr. Elowan the tailor, and several other nearby shopkeepers. Best of all, there were no bakeries or confectioners in the immediate vicinity - only a tea room that served as a proper hangout for the local middle-class ladies.

  No competitors.

  A good start to the project! Everything would surely go well, Jade thought, grinning.

  That was, of course, before she knew she would soon run into the noble-doe - who appeared to be fleeing from something utterly terrifying.

  Had she known that, she probably wouldn’t have smiled quite so brightly.

  * Supper here means dinner time. Just link it with the famous painting “The Last Supper” and you’ll get it.

  * Malt sugar was one of the most commonly made sugars in the China region back in ancient times when cane sugar wasn’t available (I remember they imported the cane sugar from India). It was made by using malt and sticky rice, as sticky rice’s starch chain can give the best yield. Since Jade was opting for the cheapest route, and theoretically barley can be used as the starch supply to be broken down by the malt enzyme or some sort of fermentation process, I just made this method up. So just accept that this method would work and don’t question it, ok?

  * The person who manages a farm, which we would usually call a supervisor or manager, was called a farm steward back in the Victorian Era.

  I was thinking of writing the way people speak with slang or accent (just like Hagrid and Krum’s dialogues in Harry Potter… but that’s very challenging to me because I’m still struggling with writing proper English. So I’ll keep it minimal in my story… um, near to none, I guess. Heh.