Episode 4
The walk from the train station square to the accommodation was short but lively and pleasant to the eyes. The dinner at the accommodation I returned to was also satisfactory.
Monica fell asleep brooding over the young man named Luis, but by the next morning, she had completely forgotten about him. Of course, it was because of the interview.
Madame Orange told Monica that the family she would be working for was called the Mollet family. Their mansion was on one side of the district of mansions that Luis had mentioned—a long walk up from the beach.
The taffeta dress felt stuffy under the blazing sun. I really didn’t know the beach sun could be this hot. I should have bought a hat!
But the only hat Monica had was a fur one she wore in the winter, and it was very old. She was determined to buy a nice hat when she got her first paycheck.
Of course, after seeing the ladies walking along the beach with their beautiful parasols, she thought, Wouldn’t a delicate parasol covered in torsion lace also be nice?
Then, looking at the small wooden nail sticking out of the opening of her old handbag, she thought about buying a new bag too. Anyway, there were many things she wanted to buy.
When Monica arrived at the Mollet mansion, she was greeted by Mrs. Mollet, who turned out to be a wonderful person.
Not only did she have a kind face, a gentle smile, and elegantly curled brown hair, but she also served iced tea to a mere tutor like her.
“Is it hot? Come in,” Mrs. Mollet said warmly.
“Oh my…” Monica was at a loss for words as she gazed at the clear ice floating in the crimson tea.
Ice, in this weather.
I heard that His Majesty the King treasures ice very much, even in the capital.
Mrs. Mollet was a kind-hearted woman who even gave ice to a commoner girl who was interviewing for a tutor position.
Of course, the Mollet family’s wealth may have played a role. Their mansion was one of the largest in the district.
Mrs. Mollet, accustomed to people reacting as Monica had, picked up her teacup first, a smile lingering on her lips. Only then did Monica hastily pick up her own. Though she later realized she had behaved too casually, the moment the cold ice touched her lips, those thoughts melted away like snow.
“It’s so cool…” Monica murmured.
“I was surprised too when I came to La Spezia. Ice in the middle of summer,” Mrs. Mollet said, laughing softly as she put down her cup.
She explained how the people of La Spezia had developed storehouses to keep the air cool even during summer, while Monica listened intently.
“You use alcohol?” Monica asked, intrigued.
“Oh my, how did you figure that out so quickly?” Mrs. Mollet covered her mouth in surprise.
“I still don’t understand, even though my husband has explained it to me a hundred times,” she admitted with a laugh.
“Thanks to your kind explanation, Madam,” Monica replied.
“Oh my, you’re so polite! With that, I can now leave Martinel in your care without any worries.”
Martinel was the youngest son of the Mollet family, and Monica would be taking care of him.
When she mentioned his name, Mrs. Mollet’s warm eyes sparkled with affection. It was clear how much she adored her son.
“He came to me during the most difficult time in my life. People think I worry because Martinel is weak, but that’s not true. I forget all my hardships when I’m with him.”
She was an optimistic woman.
“How old is he?” Monica asked.
“He’s ten years old. By the way, how should I address you?” Mrs. Mollet hesitated.
Monica quickly interjected before she could say her dreadful last name.
“Please, just call me Monica.”
“So kind of you,” Mrs. Mollet said with a smile. “How old are you, Miss Monica? I asked Madame Orange, but my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“I’m twenty-two years old,” Monica replied, smiling brightly.
“Oh my, you’re the same age as my daughter!”
Mrs. Mollet went on to talk about her daughter, Liella, who was unmarried, which was unusual for noblewomen of her age.
“It’s because of the war,” she explained, shaking her head. “But I don’t mind. I get to spend more time with her. How wonderful is that? She’s such a lovely girl…”
She described Liella in glowing terms, calling her an angel, hardworking, and adored by everyone. By the time the ice in Monica’s teacup had melted, she had learned that Miss Liella Mollet had thick eyelashes like a doll and an elegant figure.
“She says she doesn’t want to marry and wants to stay with me forever,” Mrs. Mollet said.
“I understand. If I had a mother like you, I’d want to stay forever too,” Monica replied.
Mrs. Mollet seemed touched.
“My parents aren’t with me anymore,” Monica added quietly.
“I’m sorry…”
“No need to apologize. I’m used to it.”
The topic changed, and Mrs. Mollet showed Monica to her new room. It was next to Martinel’s, and the maid, Maria, was instructed to move Monica’s luggage.
Monica was thrilled when Mrs. Mollet offered her a salary of 500 Singapore dollars a week—far more than she had ever dreamed. She vowed to buy herself a summer dress and a hat with her first paycheck.
Just as Mrs. Mollet was about to introduce Martinel at dinner, a voice interrupted them.
“Madam!”
A young boy, who looked just like Mrs. Mollet, appeared. Behind him was a girl. Monica recognized her immediately.
“Lizzy Offen…” she whispered in shock.
The girl had the same last name as Monica—a name she could never forget.
—
Episode 5
“Miss Monica, I’m introducing you to them sooner than I thought. This is Martinel.”
“Hello, Miss Monica.”
The boy clutching Mrs. Mollett’s skirt looked very much like her, with his round brown hair and glossy black eyes.
His softly curved eyes, which seemed to contain all the goodness in the world, appeared completely oblivious to anything unpleasant or sad.
“She is Miss Monica, Martinel. You should call her ‘teacher.'”
“Okay. Hello, Madam teacher!”
“Please stop using those weird titles. Martinel!”
Mrs. Mollett laughed and gently scolded her son. Martinel whined and tugged at Mrs. Mollett’s skirt.
Under normal circumstances, Monica would have found the whiny boy endearing and greeted him warmly. But her eyes remained fixed on the young lady standing behind him.
“And this is…”
“This is Riella Mollett.”
Just as Mrs. Mollett began to speak, the young lady, who had also been staring at Monica, quickly interrupted.
It was as if she were cutting off Mrs. Mollett’s words. Mrs. Mollett’s eyes widened momentarily before she smiled.
“That’s right. She’s my proud daughter. Didn’t I tell you earlier that she’s the same age as you, Monica?”
“Yes…”
Monica managed a response.
“Riella, this is Miss Monica, who will be Martinel’s teacher. She’s the same age as you, so perhaps you can become friends. She’s from the capital.”
“I see. Nice to meet you, Miss Monica.”
Riella spoke in a halting voice, as though reciting lines from a play.
Mrs. Mollett tilted her head but didn’t seem overly concerned.
“This is a wonderful opportunity. Why don’t you two show Miss Monica to her room?”
“Me?”
“Yes, Martinel. You’ll be staying in the room next to hers.”
“Okay, if you like it then please follow me ma’am!”
The boy answered cheerfully and let go of his mother’s skirt.
Riella looked reluctant but forced a smile when she met Mrs. Mollett’s gaze. Mrs. Mollett quickly excused herself, saying she had something to attend to in the afternoon.
Martinel stepped forward confidently.
“Teacher, will you be staying in the room next to mine?”
“It seems so,” Monica replied, forcing a small smile.
Martinel grabbed her skirt and pulled her forward, seemingly unaware of her discomfort.
Though it was early summer, he was dressed warmly, even wearing shiny, thin silk stockings. Noticing Monica’s gaze, Martinel grumbled.
“I told them I didn’t need to wear these because I wasn’t feeling cold. But don’t I look like a seven-year-old in them?”
“That’s not true. Boys in the capital wear stockings even in midsummer.”
“Really? Oh, teacher, feel free to talk casually with me!”
As he said this, Martinel puffed out his chest proudly. Monica smiled faintly and followed him down the hallway.
The thick blue carpet muffled their footsteps. Riella trailed behind, stopping now and then to show her reluctance to follow.
“Sister! Why aren’t you coming? What are you doing?”
But she couldn’t escape Martinel’s sharp eyes. Only after he stopped and gestured impatiently did Riella catch up, maintaining a few paces of distance.
Martinel was a truly charming boy.
He hopped around excitedly, chattering about how his birthday was approaching. He insisted that turning eleven meant he’d be a grown man and wouldn’t have to wear shorts anymore.
“I have a cousin with a really nice frock coat and woolen trousers! I asked for one on my birthday…”
“Wouldn’t a frock coat be a bit warm in midsummer?”
Monica responded while trying to keep pace, her attention occasionally drifting to Riella behind them. Eventually, all three arrived at their destination.
The first thing Monica noticed was a large white door adorned with lace curtains.
“That’s my room!” Martinel declared, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I hate those curtains!”
The smaller white door next to it—could that be her room?
As Monica moved closer, someone chuckled.
“That’s a storage room.”
Monica turned to see Riella, arms crossed, standing just out of her line of sight.
Riella gestured toward a door as large as Martinel’s. With its elegant molding, it lacked decoration but exuded refinement.
Monica’s gaze lingered on Riella’s hands, clad in delicate chemical lace gloves. Such gloves were highly sought after, especially during the war, making their appearance striking.
“This is your room,” Riella said coldly.
The unfamiliar tone and detached address left Monica momentarily stunned.
Before she could respond, Martinel interrupted.
“Sister, why are you being so mean?”
“Huh?” Riella blinked in surprise.
“Speak gently! Are you still mad about the watch?”
“…What? No, Marty. Why would I be angry?”
“Liar. You still haven’t forgiven me for breaking your watch!”
The boy stomped his foot in frustration. Riella hurried to console him, explaining that she wasn’t upset.
She turned back to Monica and hesitated.
“…I’m sorry. Your surname?”
“Offen,” Monica said stiffly.
Riella rolled the name on her tongue. Before Monica could react further, Martinel darted into his room, protesting about his blocks being cleaned up.
Monica turned to see Riella opening the door to her new room.
