When he got off work in the evening, it started raining again in London.
A gray mist hung over the streets, blending coal smoke with the damp air.
Wearing his dark glasses, Ryan walked all the way from the archive back to the East End. Along the way, many people hurried past with their necks tucked in, carriages splashed through puddles, and small stalls sold hot chestnuts by the roadside.
He was actually in a pretty good mood.
He had been promoted ahead of schedule, his salary was stable, and he had his credential in hand. Most importantly, he was finally no longer a low-level temporary worker who could starve to death at any moment.
By the time he returned to St. Blaise Street, it was already almost dark.
A few damp clothes hung in the yard, and smoke from the coal stove drifted up from the roof.
Just as Ryan was about to head upstairs, a voice suddenly came from behind him.
“Mr. Ryan.”
He turned around.
Irene was coming out of the house. The girl wore a dark blue, worn-out school uniform and held several books in her arms. The weather had been cold lately, and the tip of her nose was slightly red from the chill.
Ryan stopped in his tracks.
“What is it?”
Irene seemed a bit hesitant, looking down and scuffing the toe of her shoe against the ground.
“Um... I have a favor to ask.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
“I just paid my rent, you know.”
Irene immediately glared at him.
“Who's talking about rent?”
Then she added in a lower voice:
“Besides, you have a formal job now...”
Ryan smiled.
“Alright, so what is it?”
Irene hugged her books tighter.
“There's a parent-teacher meeting at school on Friday. My father was supposed to go, but he's been coughing terribly lately and doesn't even want to go downstairs. And my mother has to work at the textile mill in the evening.”
She paused here, her voice dropping slightly.
“So... I wanted to ask if you could go in their place.”
Ryan was taken aback.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Irene quickly explained:
“It's really just the teachers meeting the parents to talk about grades and things. Many families have relatives go instead; no one really checks.”
After she finished, she looked at Ryan with a hint of anxiety.
Ryan stood in the rain and fell silent for a couple of seconds before suddenly remembering.
Harrington Girls' Academy.
The director had scheduled him for Friday as well. He had to go anyway, so this was a perfect coincidence.
Ryan looked down at Irene.
The girl was clearly still a bit uneasy. After all, this kind of thing was quite a hassle to ask of someone, and strictly speaking, her family and Ryan were just landlord and tenant.
But over the past few months, they had grown much closer. Moreover, Ryan's current state was far more normal than when he had first moved in; at least he no longer looked like he was about to drop dead at any moment.
Ryan nodded.
“Alright.”
“I happen to be heading to the North End on Friday anyway.”
Irene's eyes lit up.
“Really?”
“Yeah, but I have no idea what I'm supposed to say at a parent-teacher meeting.”
Irene immediately let out a sigh of relief and even offered a small smile.
“It's fine, you just have to sit there. Just nod at whatever the teacher says and don't say anything stupid.”
The corner of Ryan's mouth twitched.
“You make me sound like some sort of dangerous character.”
Irene muttered under her breath:
“You've been acting pretty weird lately anyway...”
Ryan glanced at her.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!”
Irene quickly changed the subject.
“Oh, right. The teachers at Harrington are very strict. You'd better not take off those glasses.”
Ryan paused slightly.
“Why?”
Irene thought about it.
“I can't quite put it into words, but when you take them off... your gaze is a little scary.”
The yard fell silent for a few seconds.
Rainwater dripped steadily from the eaves.
Ryan suddenly smiled.
“Got it. I'll go on Friday.”
...
Around nine in the evening, Ryan was in his attic organizing the school materials.
Two documents lay on the desk.
St. Blaise Boys' Public School.
Harrington Girls' Academy.
Next to them lay an open recruitment register.
The requirements from the archive weren't complicated: talk about the job, pitch the benefits, and recruit as many as possible. If there were too many applicants, they would run an exam to weed some out, leaving only the most useful beasts of burden.
Footsteps suddenly echoed from downstairs.
Then came:
Knock, knock.
Two gentle knocks on the door.
“Who is it?”
“It's me.”
It was Irene's voice.
Ryan stood up and opened the door.
The girl stood outside, holding a small pot that was steaming hot.
“Mother stewed some food tonight and told me to bring you some.”
Ryan looked down.
Inside was a stew of potatoes and cabbage, along with a few small pieces of salted pork.
Ryan stepped aside to let her in.
Irene froze for a moment as soon as she entered.
“Your place is looking more and more decent now.”
When she had come in before, the attic was frighteningly empty. Now, there was a carpet, a coal stove, and bookshelves, with thick blackout cloth hanging by the window. Even the air felt much warmer.
Ryan placed the pot on the desk.
“My salary has been enough lately.”
Irene hummed.
“Must be nice being a formal clerk.”
As she spoke, she suddenly noticed the documents on the desk.
“Are you really going to Harrington?”
“Yes.”
“The archive is short-handed.”
Ryan sat back down in his chair.
“The director wants me to give a presentation about the job and recruit some new people.”
Irene immediately looked surprised.
“You guys are actually going directly to schools to snatch people up now?”
Ryan smiled.
“Someone has to do the work.”
Irene immediately began to complain.
“Those teachers at Harrington talk about ‘respectable jobs’ all day long, but after graduation, most girls still end up as clerks or governesses. If they're unlucky, they just get married off right away.”
She pursed her lips at this point.
“And there are so many rules at school. No curling your hair, no makeup, no reading novels on the sly. Last month, someone was even made to stand in the corner for writing a love letter.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair and listened, smiling occasionally.
“Isn't yours an all-girls school?”
“Even girls' schools have that kind of thing.”
Irene had clearly been holding this in for a long time; once she started, she couldn't stop.
“And then there's the math teacher. She constantly complains about our posture and even monitors how we drink water. Last week, Lucy sneaked some candy in, and she confiscated it immediately.”
Ryan asked casually:
“Lucy is at Harrington too?”
“Of course, she's a year below me.”
After Irene spoke, she suddenly looked at Ryan.
“What was your old school like?”
Ryan fell silent for a moment.
Memories of the body's original owner slowly surfaced in his mind.
St. Blaise Boys' Public School.
Old, cold, and gloomy. The playground was perpetually damp, and the teachers loved to whack the desks with wooden canes. In the winter, the classrooms were so cold you could see your own breath, and many students couldn't even afford lunch. It was a completely different world from Harrington.
Ryan looked down and smiled faintly.
“We didn't have that many rules over there, mostly because the teachers couldn't be bothered to care. As long as no one died, they were happy.”
Irene was taken aback.
“Is it really that extreme?”
“Pretty much.”
Ryan continued:
“Many drop out at fourteen or fifteen to go to factories, the docks, or coal yards. Some don't even make it to graduation.”
He spoke in a calm tone, because that was indeed the reality of the East End.
Irene slowly grew quiet too.
Although she lived in the East End, being able to attend Harrington meant she was already far more fortunate than most.
Ryan glanced at the recruitment documents on the desk and suddenly chuckled.
“Thinking about it now, it's funny that I'm actually going back to recruit people. Our teachers used to scare us every day, saying that if we didn't study hard, we'd end up copying dead people's names at the archive.”
Irene couldn't help but burst into laughter.
“And you actually ended up there?”
“Yeah.”
Ryan nodded.
“And now I have to go back in person to recruit others.”
Irene laughed so hard her shoulders shook.
“That's so tragic.”
A rare moment of lightheartedness filled the attic.
The coal stove burned warmly, and the rain continued to fall outside.
Irene sat by the desk, and Ryan leaned over to sip his hot soup.
Rate on N.U.
