I Start with a Bad Hand!

Recalling the length of the second pin she had memorized, Agnes pressed her ear to the door of the warehouse.

Click.

The second pin turned.

Dietrich was known by name even before seeing her face. It was the same for Agnes. Before they even met, she had heard that this year’s runner-up was a girl with a boyish name. At the time, it didn’t mean much to her.

Why should the top and second rank matter to me?

As a new student at the academy, Agnes never crossed paths with the second-rank girl, who, despite attending the same classes, somehow remained inconspicuous.

The next thing she learned about her was her gait.

“Hey, look.”

“She really does walk with a limp.”

At the unmistakable backbiting, Agnes glanced back. The subject of the gossip had already disappeared around the corridor, but the mocking voices imitating her awkward gait echoed softly down the hallway.

Only students who could afford the hefty tuition and living expenses were admitted to the academy, regardless of status. This meant that everyone at the academy could afford immediate treatment at the temple if they were injured. Consequently, no one in the academy—students, faculty, or even the guards—had any physical impairments.

In other words, the only one with a noticeable limp and the subject of such ridicule was Dietrich.

“Idiots….”

Agnes muttered, mocking her peers whose names she didn’t even know. She didn’t think it was something to keep to herself. The expressions of the two male students mimicking the limp hardened.

“Are you talking to us?”

“Who else in this hallway would I be talking about but you idiots?”

Ignoring the grumbling behind her, Agnes turned and walked to her room. She hadn’t spoken out of any sense of justice.

Click.

As the third pin turned, Agnes thought back to that time.

‘Why did I say that then? Maybe….’

She always remembered what her sister and brother had earnestly advised her.

“The academy is your best and last chance to be on par with them. We couldn’t do that because of various concerns… but you should live as you want. Make as many friends as you like.”

Her sister had said, in a tone that showed she didn’t care what others thought.

“What could you do at the Bardy Trading Company? Manage it? Trade? Leave those to us and just have fun learning whatever you want.”

Her brother had said it more elegantly, essentially telling her to stay out of their way as he fought with their sister over shares.

Agnes didn’t entirely agree with them, but she attended the academy as they wished. Unless one was royalty, one didn’t have to watch their words or actions too carefully. She said what she wanted, learned what she wanted, and lived like that.

‘But it’s not particularly fun.’

Recalling the length of the second pin she had memorized, Agnes pressed her ear to the door of the warehouse.

Click.

The second pin turned.

Dietrich was known by name even before seeing her face. It was the same for Agnes. Before they even met, she had heard that this year’s runner-up was a girl with a boyish name. At the time, it didn’t mean much to her.

Why should the top and second rank matter to me?

As a new student at the academy, Agnes never crossed paths with the second-rank girl, who, despite attending the same classes, somehow remained inconspicuous.

The next thing she learned about her was her gait.

“Hey, look.”

“She really does walk with a limp.”

At the unmistakable backbiting, Agnes glanced back. The subject of the gossip had already disappeared around the corridor, but the mocking voices imitating her awkward gait echoed softly down the hallway.

Only students who could afford the hefty tuition and living expenses were admitted to the academy, regardless of status. This meant that everyone at the academy could afford immediate treatment at the temple if they were injured. Consequently, no one in the academy—students, faculty, or even the guards—had any physical impairments.

In other words, the only one with a noticeable limp and the subject of such ridicule was Dietrich.

“Idiots….”

Agnes muttered, mocking her peers whose names she didn’t even know. She didn’t think it was something to keep to herself. The expressions of the two male students mimicking the limp hardened.

“Are you talking to us?”

“Who else in this hallway would I be talking about but you idiots?”

Ignoring the grumbling behind her, Agnes turned and walked to her room. She hadn’t spoken out of any sense of justice.

Click.

As the third pin turned, Agnes thought back to that time.

‘Why did I say that then? Maybe….’

She always remembered what her sister and brother had earnestly advised her.

“The academy is your best and last chance to be on par with them. We couldn’t do that because of various concerns… but you should live as you want. Make as many friends as you like.”

Her sister had said, in a tone that showed she didn’t care what others thought.

“What could you do at the Bardy Trading Company? Manage it? Trade? Leave those to us and just have fun learning whatever you want.”

Her brother had said it more elegantly, essentially telling her to stay out of their way as he fought with their sister over shares.

Agnes didn’t entirely agree with them, but she attended the academy as they wished. Unless one was royalty, one didn’t have to watch their words or actions too carefully. She said what she wanted, learned what she wanted, and lived like that.

‘But it’s not particularly fun.’

At first, it was the pressure from her siblings that made Agnes feel like she had to build useful connections, and her parents’ insistence that she had no reason not to follow in her siblings’ footsteps. Despite everyone’s expectations, she didn’t make any friends, and the drama club she joined out of interest turned out to be difficult. Academics were dull, especially since she barely made it into the academy in the first place.

‘I miss Mom. And my sister… and Dad.’

Not so much my brother…

It was during those lonely nights of crying in the large dormitory that she first met her drama partner.

“What’s the name of my drama partner…?”

Agnes frowned as she looked at the assigned partner list. It was an unfamiliar name. Was it a senior? One thing she could infer was that it was probably a boy. By then, her impression of the limp second-rank student had faded completely from memory.

She hoped her partner would be handsome, though judging by the average appearance of the boys at the academy, it was unlikely. With such vague thoughts, she entered the practice room, where someone with a particularly gloomy expression was sitting.

It was Dietrich Degoph.

‘…Did the drama club seniors give her a heads-up?’

Otherwise, how could someone look so dejected without a reason? Trying to hide her slight unease, Agnes greeted her. Despite her dark expression, her voice was surprisingly bright.

After a brief introduction, they matched their schedules and stood up. It was only when she saw the student walk that Agnes realized that ‘this’ Dietrich was ‘that’ Dietrich.

Not long after, other rumors about ‘that’ Dietrich spread around the academy. It was said that Dietrich voluntarily withdrew from the student council despite being admitted due to her second-place rank. The fact that no one had ever left the student council voluntarily, coupled with the lack of a clear reason, fueled all kinds of wild gossip.

“They say she got caught stealing and was kicked out.”

That doesn’t make sense. If she got caught stealing, she’d be expelled from the academy, not just the student council.

“They say she was disrespectful to the young duke.”

Isn’t it stranger for someone who isn’t even an academy student to be in the student council?

Agnes scoffed at the rumors as she heard them, mocking her fellow students. They aren’t children. Do they actually believe this? After spending a few days with Dietrich, Agnes concluded that the most likely reason was that Dietrich found the student council troublesome and left on her own accord.

Her partner, who always wore a gloomy expression even when there was nothing wrong, seemed unaware of the rumors. She simply moved her old pen delicately, crafting what Agnes thought was literary garbage. Agnes’s new routine was to nitpick every word. Despite showing clear annoyance, her partner always answered her.

What could have been a quick one or two-minute discussion often stretched into five or ten minutes because of Dietrich’s responses, leading to many nights spent revising the script together. As a result, the nights Agnes spent crying from homesickness gradually decreased.

Click.

The fourth pin went in. Halfway there. Agnes stretched her stiff neck.

Early in the semester, she heard that two seniors from the drama club had approached Dietrich. She wasn’t surprised. Agnes knew she wasn’t an attractive partner, whether due to her personality, skills, or both. Those two didn’t like her much and seemed eager to get rid of her not just from the play but from the drama club entirely.

‘Maybe today’s the day she’ll tell me she wants to quit being partners.’

However, contrary to her expectations, Dietrich didn’t say anything special. As usual, she responded with a dark expression.

“Even though I’m a mess, I’m still doing it. We don’t owe each other anything in terms of skill.”

Her tired, low voice didn’t continue beyond that. At that time, they weren’t very close, and there was no remarkable friendship or loyalty. Agnes guessed that Dietrich simply disliked the troublesome tasks that would come with accepting the proposal.

Click.

Now, less than half of the pins in the lock remained. Agnes quickly moved to the next pin.

“Knowing yourself well is a talent and a skill too.”

Agnes had completely ruined the final drama presentation. Unlike other members who participated casually, Dietrich had to put her all into this play because of the scholarship. Yet, she comforted Agnes with such a calm face.

Click.

“But if you’re really bothered by the fact that I’m a noble and that’s why you speak formally to me….”

The usually indifferent face was first swept by another emotion when she spoke formally to Dietrich outside the academy. What’s so sad about that? When she spoke informally like in the academy, Dietrich, with a disheveled appearance, laughed, which oddly touched Agnes.

Click.

“Hey, um… sorry.”

It was Aiden Douglas from the count’s family who had hit her on the head with a tray. When she looked at him, stunned by the unexpected apology, he continued with a sullen expression.

“Dietrich made a fuss, saying I should apologize to you. But really, what did I do wrong to you?”

Agnes wondered, watching the grumbling Aiden. She thought to herself, ‘Who knew I’d ever get an apology from a noble?’ Strangely, her sister’s words came to mind then.

“The academy is your best and last chance to be on par with them. We couldn’t do that because of various concerns… but you should live as you want. Make as many friends as you like.”

Click.

“But it’s not as important as your future.”

Facing a choice that could change her life entirely, Dietrich had said that. At that moment, Agnes remembered her brother’s words.

“What could you do at the Bardy Trading Company? Manage it? Trade? Leave those to us and just have fun learning whatever you want.”

The freedom given to her was actually because no one expected anything from her. While she held onto a hopeless play, her family, despite their love, never thought of sharing enough shares to threaten them. Would there ever be someone who believed in her future, which no one expected, as firmly as Dietrich did?

Even when her aunt, who looked just like her, visited, Dietrich, so skeptical, had believed in her so firmly.

‘That’s why I want to do it right.’

The inside of the warehouse, without a single light, would plunge into complete darkness without the light from the hallway. After one last glance at the corridor, Agnes hurried into the warehouse and finally opened the eye she had kept closed. Her left eye, accustomed to the darkness, began to faintly recognize objects.

‘At least one eye can see.’

Rubbing her bleary eyes, Agnes examined the sparkling bits of light that glimmered like breadcrumbs. The light was weak and faint, but the direction it pointed to was clear.

“I applied this liquid on the doorknob as you instructed. Whenever I had time!”

Agnes recalled Yuri’s confident voice.

“I also tried to provoke the young duke… as you suggested.”

She also remembered Dietrich’s uncertain voice. Fortunately, it seemed both of them had done their parts. The spots where the light powder was stuck were mostly items that belonged to the former duchess: portraits, old dresses, and a small jewelry box.

‘You really do resemble your aunt more than your mother. What’s with this?’

After replacing the white cloth that had covered the portrait, Agnes scanned the shining powder with her eyes. Among them, there was a small, old box in the corner that was particularly covered with the white powder. Agnes carefully opened the box. Although it seemed quite old, the faint smell of ashes gave her confidence. This was indeed the ‘true’ final memento of the former duchess.

Just before touching the memento, Agnes hastily withdrew her hand. She closed her eyes and, under the guise of a prayer, made a wish.

“I swear by the earth, I have no intention of using this item for any evil purposes, Duchess. I will only check what’s important and put it back. I will also light a candle for you at the temple.”

…And it would please your sister if her own daughter returned to the duchy, wouldn’t it? she added slyly.

‘A doll with an aquamarine gem. More precisely, a doll with eyes just like Dietrich’s.’

Since there had been a fire, it didn’t matter if she didn’t know the doll’s material or shape. Considering the remaining items were all either old jewelry, skeletal remains of ornaments, or vaguely identifiable metal pens, the doll must have been deformed beyond recognition.

The young duke had handled it several times, so everything inside was covered with the subtly glowing powder. Given its non-luminous nature in even faint light, it was fortunate; otherwise, the people entering the west warehouse would have been puzzled by the powder coating everything.

‘Still, there doesn’t seem to be anything that looks like a doll.’

Agnes’s hand, cautiously rummaging through the box, stopped. Amidst the tangled threads and half-burned fabric, she felt something cold and round. She hesitated briefly before taking out the matches she had tucked inside her maid’s uniform. If she lit it now, the white powder sensitive to light would stop glowing.

But a hunch struck her. Eventually, Agnes struck the match against the wall, producing a flame. The color of the gem in the light was…

‘Aquamarine.’

The thrill that ran through Agnes’s chest was akin to what she felt when the door of the west warehouse opened. She carefully put the gem in her pocket and closed the box.

She checked the watch she took out from her pocket. It was 9 o’clock. Dietrich and the Second Prince were supposed to enter this place at 8:30.

‘They promised to create a distraction for me to escape.’

She needed to leave within 15 minutes. As she hurried to move, a sharp voice echoed from down the corridor.

“…Who’s there?”