My socks have holes in them.
However, that doesn’t mean I’ll casually go and buy new ones.
Only nobles like my late father, who had already passed away, could afford to do such a thing.
Mending the holes with a needle and thread was the proper way for an ordinary sixth-class official.
However, there was one book I really wanted, so yesterday I spent a lot of money and bought it.
As a result, my wallet was now in a sorry state with only 300 gil left.
But I had no regrets about purchasing “The Eastern Chronicles of Lengarl”; it was a book I had desired for a long time.
Just by stroking its fine leather cover, I could forget all about the lightness of my wallet.
On the other hand, I must somehow find a way to earn money to buy a needle and some thread.
What made me truly sad about being kicked out of the Sullivan’s mansion was losing access to their library.
My late father, despite never reading them, diligently collected books.
For him, it seemed like a symbol of status, but thanks to that, I was able to enjoy the privilege of reading as many books as I liked.
As I reminisced about the faded glory of the past while putting on my socks, my big toe unexpectedly popped out, intensifying the sense of desolation.
Now, I must devote myself to making money.
Perhaps I should strive to sell more cigarettes; that seems to be the only option I have here.
Normally, I wouldn’t initiate conversations, but today I decided to try pitching my products proactively.
In prison, the inmates were allotted some time for exercise a few times a week.
However, it’s nothing more than wandering around a ten-meter-square yard surrounded by stone walls; they didn’t engage in gymnastics or ball games.
Nevertheless, during that time, they wre not compelled to do anything specific, so it became an enjoyable moment for the prisoners.
Smoking cigarettes was also permitted in the courtyard.
“Hey, number 374. Do you have enough cigarettes?”
I approached number 374, a regular customer to me.
Number 374 was a forty-year-old man who led a life of repeated petty thefts, shuttling between the world of the living and the prison.
His crimes usually involve stealing small amounts of alcohol or cigarettes, resulting in sentences of around one month of forced labor.
With missing front teeth and a lack of restraint in his speech, he had a small stature and was a devoted smoker.
He was so addicted that he would trade his own bread for cigarettes with other prisoners.
“Ah, it’s Mr. Wolf. Take a look at this today.”
Number 374 carefully took out a few cigarettes from his breast pocket and showed them to me.
“You seem to be doing quite well.”
“Heh, well, the truth is, I got these from a friend in the same cell.”
“When did you have such a big boss in your cell?”
Occasionally, imprisoned high-ranking figures in the underworld do indulge their subordinates with extravagant gestures, but such occurrences are exceedingly rare. Typically, these individuals specialize more in exploitation.
Moreovere, there shouldn’t be any big shots in prisonner number 374’s cell.
“Heheh, it’s from Labos. Seems like he received various gifts during a recent visit and is in a cheerful mood. So, he shared some with the prisoners in the same cell.”
Upon hearing that, the first person that came to mind was Marian, the woman to whom I delivered the letter from Labos. While it’s possible that his wife was the one who brought the cigarettes, I couldn’t imagine that worn-out-looking woman, who seemed to be impoverished, having the means to buy a large quantity of cigarettes.
So, did Marian really come for a visit? That remained uncertain.
Having no experience in hiring prostitutes, I was unaware of the specifics, but no matter how kind she was, it’s unlikely for a prostitute to visit a prisoner who was only her customer once during visitation hourss.
Moreover, the idea of her bringing a lot of gifts seemed odd to me.
Perhaps Marian lied to me, and they were indeed in a romantic relationship. However, there was a strange unnaturalness that I felt.
Curious, I used my lunch break to investigate the visitor log for the prison visits.
As a result, I discovered that Labos had a visit yesterday.
Furthermore, the visitor’s name was not his wife nor was it Marian, but a woman named Emilia Clamberry.
The address listed was not on Sankche Street, where Marian resides, but on Revolus Street instead.
Since the supervisor of the visits was my colleague, Event, I decided to approach him for some information.
When I returned to the cafeteria, I found Event leisurely smoking a cigarette.
“Event, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“Hmm? Did something happen?”
“Not really. You were in charge of the visit to prisoner number 106 yesterday, right?”
“number 106?”
“Yeah, the guy who used to be a wine barrel craftsman and got caught for theft.”
“Oh, I remember now. I did handle that one.”
“I think a woman named Emilia Clamberry visited him.”
“Well, I don’t recall the name specifically. But I do remember she was quite an attractive woman.”
Saying that, Event licked the corner of his lips.
I’ve come to realize that when Event does that, he’s usually thinking something perverted.
“Do you remember what kind of woman she was?”
“What kind… Well, she had a sharp look in her eyes. But you know, when women like that moan with a sexy voice, it’s irresistible.”
A sharp look in her eyes…
“Did that woman have light brown hair? And was she about this tall?”
I used my hand to indicate Marian’s height, and Event nodded approvingly.
“Yeah, yeah, she was exactly like that. Compared to the average wives around here, she had quite a seductive aura.”
“Thanks.”
It seems highly likely that Emilia Clamberry is actually Marian Beck.
But why would she use a fake name?
Even if she didn’t want their affair to be discovered, it seems excessive to use a false name on official records.
After all, as long as her visit didn’t coincide with Labos’ wife’s visit, there shouldn’t be a problem.
Moreover, Marian’s attitude towards Labos seemed distant.
Even when she finished reading the letter, she appeared quite annoyed.
So why would she come for a visit?
“What’s up with that woman?” Event asked.
“Nah, it’s nothing important,” I replied.
As Event stared at me, seemingly probing for more information, I evaded the question and left the dining hall.
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