Chapter 21

On our way back from Mr. Bernard's mansion, we quickly decided what to do with the coded document.

"We can tell Uncle it's something we set aside, saying it was a mistake. From there, it's Uncle's field."

"Yes, let's do that."

We should not be involved any further.

The next day, I had Reed deliver the coded document to Mr. Bernard's house. After Jeffrey went out on business, Bessa came.

"Madam, you have a visitor."

"Oh, who is it?"

"The head of the South District Convent."

I changed into a dress to meet the convent's head, with whom I had no connection. I found it cumbersome to change for visitors, as it was a custom among the nobility. I grumbled, "Well, if the visitor is a noble, but do I really need to keep a guest waiting just to change?" But Bessa firmly said, "Absolutely." Respecting Bessa's opinion, who was more familiar with noble society, I changed into a light green dress with a high collar.

"I am Eliza, the head of the South District Convent. Thank you for seeing me despite my sudden visit."

"I am Anna Asher. What brings you here today?"

"I have a request regarding the ointment you made."

Eliza was in her fifties, a slender woman with a straight posture.

"An ointment?"

"Yes. Our convent provides a place to live for women without family or a home. One of them recently helped clean the garden of a certain mansion as a day laborer and got a rash. At first, it was only on the back of her hand, but it quickly spread to her arm, neck, and chest. She was in great pain and itching."

"Oh!"

"By chance, a greengrocer who often visits the convent saw her and said, 'I have a good ointment. I'll bring it and you can try it.' He shared the ointment with her."

The story was becoming clearer.

"It worked very well. When I asked the greengrocer, he told me it was a homemade ointment made by Mrs. Asher."

"I'm glad my ointment was helpful."

"That's why I have a request. Could you please allow our South District Convent to help sell this ointment?"

I wanted to say "Yes, of course" right away, but I thought I should check if this person and the convent were genuine. In the past, when it was just Nonna and me, I could take full responsibility for anything, but now it's different. I want to avoid tarnishing Jeffrey's name or causing trouble for Lord Edward.

"Could I visit the South District Convent?"

"Yes, of course. We welcome you anytime, even now."

"Then I'll come now. I'll prepare a carriage, so please come with me."

I thought about inviting Nonna, but she said, "I have something to do, so it's fine," so I went alone.

Now, I am at the convent in the South District, a part of the capital city near the wall where the rent is cheaper. The convent was an old building, but the garden was well-maintained, and the building had been repaired.

"It's well-maintained."

"Yes, we all work together, and the believers help with repairs as a form of donation."

"I see."

The chapel was cool, with polished wooden pews in a honey color. In the center was a statue of Eal, the central figure of the country's religion. Eal had a gender-neutral appearance, and in the world of theology, Eal's gender was a mystery.

Next, I was shown the rooms where the women lived. There were two six-person rooms, each with three bunk beds. The rooms were simple but tidy and clean.

"May I ask a personal question? Is there a girl around fifteen or sixteen with brown hair here? Her name is Orla."

"No, all the women here are older."

"I see."

I didn't think Orla would come to a place like this.

After that, I was shown the nuns' rooms, which were surprisingly similar to the women's rooms.

Finally, the head's office.

"Is this it?"

"Everyone is surprised, but I see no reason to use a grand room just for myself."

The head's office was the smallest I had seen, with no decorations. It had a bed, a small table, and a small wardrobe. That was all.

(I think I can trust this person.)

"Please come to the reception room."

I was led to the reception room, where I was served tea and continued the conversation.

"I will discuss it with my husband, but I will consider selling the ointment here positively. However, how will you handle the relationship with the surrounding pharmacies? Are there any pharmacy owners among your believers?"

The head smiled wryly and said,

"No pharmacy owners visit this convent. There are no pharmacies in this area. It's a district where people who can't afford expensive medicine gather."

"Oh!"

I was ashamed of my careless comment. Medicine is expensive. Except for the wealthy, common people don't take medicine. They rely on time, effort, and luck to heal themselves.

I told the head, "I will try to help as much as possible," and left the convent. It was still early, but I wanted to think about the coded document at the Black Thrush. I headed to the bustling area of the South District by carriage.

However, it was too early for the tavern to open, and the door was locked.

I walked around the area. On this street, which was a bit off the main road, various shops and offices lined up densely.

One of them was 'Zachary's Antique Bookstore,' a combination antique bookstore and lending library. The four windows had new brown shades hanging outside.

Unlike the horizontal shades of ordinary shops, the shades of this bookstore were almost vertical, making it impossible to see inside.

As I was looking at the store from outside, the door opened from inside. A man a few years younger than me peeked out and bowed to me.

He was in his thirties, wearing glasses, with wavy brown hair. He had gentle eyes and a mole, and a face that would likely be popular with women.

"If you'd like, please come in."

"Thank you. I'll come in, then."

"I lower the shades to protect the books from the sun. It can be hard to enter for the first time."

He said this and sat back behind the counter. Behind him was the country's permit, which read, "Antique Bookstore and Lending Library Operating Permit, Owner: Will Zachary."

The lending corner was mainly romance and adventure novels.

The area for antique books was about a third of the store. Valuable antique books were mixed with less valuable ones and placed on the shelves haphazardly.

Near the counter was a bookshelf with doors. To prevent expensive books from being stolen, the glass doors were locked. A sign read, "If you would like to handle the books inside, please ask the owner." As I was staring at the glass doors, Mr. Zachary spoke to me.

"If you'd like to handle a book from the bookshelf, please let me know."

"Yes, I'll just look for now."

The antique books were displayed with their covers visible. I focused on one of them. It seemed suspiciously fake. It didn't look much different from the other antique books, but this one gave a strong impression of being an "old book."

Having once forged documents for work, I understood the forger's mindset. They tend to overdo it. It's a common mistake for those who lack confidence, and the organization's instructor often warned, "Beginners, don't overdo it."

"Is there a book that interests you?"

"Oh, yes. This 'History of Western Porcelain.'"

"Please wait a moment."

Mr. Zachary unlocked the glass doors and took out the book, saying,

"This is a first edition, and it's quite rare."

He spoke happily.

I thanked him, borrowed gloves, and took the book.

I slowly turned the pages of the parchment. As far as I could tell, it was indeed a fake. I chose a moment when Mr. Zachary wasn't looking to smell the book. I detected a faint scent of plant juice, which I had smelled in class before. It was barely noticeable, and even if you knew, you wouldn't be able to tell unless you had a sharp sense of smell.

(I see.)

"Thank you."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, it was very educational. I'll come again."

I returned the gloves and left the store.

I decided not to say, "This is a forgery."