Tick.. Tock… Tick.. Tock…
The rhythmic ticking from the old oak wall pendulum clock was the first sound that crept into Florence Faraday's consciousness. Her eyelids slowly opened. Behind the lenses of her vision, still slightly blurred without her glasses, the silvery-grey afternoon light of Columbus city seemed to gently penetrate through the cream-colored lace curtains that framed the window. The air in the room felt cool and peaceful.
Florence drew a long breath, filling her lungs with the clean air of her room, which held a characteristic combination of dried lavender, sandalwood oil, and the scent of the papers in her study.
After nearly forty-eight hours of staying awake, her long seven-hour sleep since seven o'clock this morning had eased the ache in her temples and back. Her body felt much lighter, and her drained energy had been replenished.
Florence's bedroom on the upper floor was an extension of her gentle, elegant, practical, and science-obsessed personality.
The wooden walls of her room were painted in a soothing sage green. On the left side of her large wooden bed stood a bookshelf reaching to the ceiling, filled with compendiums, encyclopedias, almanacs, journals from various scientists, and dozens of glass bottles containing herbal specimens preserved in clear alcohol. In the opposite corner, a slender writing desk made of old oak was arranged neatly. There lay her dip pens, wax seal kit, a small brass microscope, and stacks of neatly organized notes. On a small marble vanity beside the door, an ornate brass pendulum clock chimed softly, indicating it was a quarter to two in the afternoon.
Florence lifted her body and sat on the edge of the soft mattress. Her hand reached for the bedside table to grasp her small, silver-rimmed round glasses, then put them on. The world instantly became sharp and clear in her eyes.
She walked gracefully toward the oval mirror above the vanity. Florence stared at her reflection for a moment. Her long, honey-blonde hair was tangled and loose past her shoulders after her deep sleep. With skilled fingers, she began to divide her hair into several sections. Florence combed through the honey-blonde strands with a toothed comb, then began braiding them into a thick, neat plait. She brought the braid around to the nape of her neck, forming a comfortable low bun, then tied the end with a dark silk ribbon. She left a few wisps of hair to fall softly against her temples, framing her face.
Scrape... Clang!
The sound of metal scraping downstairs suddenly echoed into her room, followed by a very familiar small hiss.
Florence stopped her movements, her nostrils catching an aroma that slowly floated up through the gap in her bedroom door—the smell of savory, burning fat wafted into her nose. Her eyebrows furrowed; her thoughts immediately turned to Lucien, the only other person in the house besides herself who had regained consciousness just a few hours ago.
Florence opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the upper hallway. She looked toward the stairs, and the sound of a wooden spatula tapping against a pan became increasingly clear.
"Lucien!" Florence called out from the upper hallway. Her voice was slightly raised but still sounded gentle to anyone who heard it.
"Yeah!" Lucien replied from downstairs, followed by the sound of light tapping that seemed to be made by the wooden spatula on the rim of the pan.
"What are you doing downstairs? Your body hasn't fully recovered yet!" Florence stepped closer to the stairs, staring toward the ground floor with a furrowed brow.
"Making lunch for us!" Lucien replied with a cheerful tone.
"Don't worry, Aunt Flo. My body feels much better now!" he exclaimed, his voice sounding more energetic than before.
Florence shook her head with a resigned sigh. Before going down, Florence walked along the upper wooden hallway, passing the small booth dedicated to the water closet before opening the bathroom door next to it.
The room had dark wooden panels as high as a chest, combined with cream-colored plaster walls that reflected the grey light from the lead-framed window. That silver light clung to the white hexagonal ceramic tiles on the floor. In the corner near the window stood a white enamel-coated cast-iron bathtub with lion's claw feet, alongside brass water pipes. On the opposite side, a marble vanity stood gracefully with a white porcelain basin fitted with a pair of brass faucets, right beneath a small medicine cabinet made of oak with mirrored doors, complete with a clean towel rack beside it.
Florence approached the vanity. From the pair of brass faucets above the white porcelain basin, she turned the cold water tap, wetting both palms to wash her face. The freshness of the cold water washed away the remaining fatigue that still clung to her eyelids. Florence reached for a clean towel from the rack, patting her face and neck gently until slightly damp.
She then opened the mirrored door of the hanging cabinet above the vanity, taking out a small white porcelain jar with a screw-top lid. Florence scooped a little rose and almond oil-scented cold cream with the tip of her finger, then spread it thinly around her cheekbones and forehead.
Florence closed the mirrored cabinet door again, tidied the collar of her bright blue cotton house dress for a moment, sighed with relief, and then stepped out and descended the stairs to the ground floor.
As soon as her feet touched the living room floor, Florence immediately walked toward the small kitchen.
There, Lucien stood tall in front of the black cast-iron stove. The young man wore a linen apron over his white shirt. In his hand, a pair of kitchen tongs flipped a thick steak that was browning and sizzling on the pan, while the wooden spatula he had just used lay on a small plate beside the stove. Near his feet, Lumi sat quietly, flicking the tip of her white tail, enjoying the aroma of the grill.
Florence folded both arms across her chest, standing right beside the kitchen table while observing Lucien from behind her round glasses with a sharp gaze.
"You little rascal!" Florence scolded in a tone of feigned severity.
Lucien was slightly startled; he quickly turned with an expression of slight panic, before his golden eyes looked at Florence with a shine. A clumsy smile then emerged, turning into a small smirk on his face.
"You startled me!" Lucien replied softly while turning off the valve of the iron stove.
Florence just stood silent, watching Lucien, before the sharp look on her face slowly softened as she waited for further explanation.
"I really am refreshed and I'm fine, Aunt Flo. My body feels much lighter after soaking in a warm water bath earlier," He continued casually while reaching for plates to serve the steak he had cooked.
"I'm in a very happy mood today." He added.
Florence raised one eyebrow with a curious look.
"There's a letter for you on the table near the sofa," he continued with a smile that seemed to be hiding something.
Florence turned around without asking, walking slowly toward the sofa area near the fireplace that was warming the living room. Her eyes swept across the small wooden table beside the sofa.
On the table, a package wrapped in rough brown paper had been undone, with the hemp twine lying loose. On top of it lay an open dark blue jewelry box and several open sheets of letters, and one envelope still sealed tightly.
"Is this what I think it is?" she exclaimed toward the kitchen.
The envelope felt simple; the paper was a faded brown but thick and plain, pressed with a dark blue wax seal that still sealed the envelope addressed to her. She only glanced briefly at her envelope without opening it.
Her attention immediately shifted to the small, open jewelry box beside her. The sparkle of a triangular silver badge curved on the velvet cushion instantly captivated her gaze. A badge of honor that was all too familiar from her own past, now engraved with a cohort number and the year of graduation which she still kept.
Florence bowed slightly, looking at the engraving of her nephew's name which was carved neatly, then switched to tracing the thick, ivory-colored linen paper sheets beside it.
Deep in her mind, Florence had never doubted this achievement of Lucien's even for a moment. Since their first meeting, she knew very well the potential, intelligence, and sharp intuition that Lucien possessed.
At the kitchen doorway, Lucien walked in carrying two plates containing hot steak, with sautéed onions and boiled potatoes. He placed them on the dining table, then looked at his aunt with full impatience.
"Welcome to the family, Lucien," Florence said warmly with pride.
"Thank you, Aunt Flo." He took a deep breath of relief, and a wide smile was also seen etched on his face.
Before leaving, Florence took the letter envelope addressed to her that had not been opened and tucked it into the side pocket of her bright blue cotton dress. She then walked to the dining table, pulled out a wooden chair opposite Lucien, and sat down.
"Sit down, Lucien. It's been a long time since I tasted your cooking," Florence said in a teasing tone with a thin smile on her lips.
"I hope it tastes as good as the aroma," she continued, looking at the dish and then staring at Lucien with a smirk.
"Don't worry, this won't disappoint," Lucien replied with a soft chuckle while pulling his chair.
"Eat while it's hot, Aunt Flo" he continued as he sat across from Florence.
The atmosphere of the room was now filled with the clinking of forks and knives against ceramic plates. On the floor near the corner of the kitchen, the sound of Lumi, who was chewing shredded meat on a small pottery plate, could also be heard, completing the comfortable silence inside the house.
"How is your body now?" Florence asked, her voice soft and full of concern.
"Much better" Lucien replied while moving his right shoulder slowly to reassure Florence.
"Just a little stiff in the joints, but otherwise it's already normal," he added with a thin smile on his face.
"Thankfully, but don't force yourself today," Florence replied, smiling with relief.
Lucien nodded, then ate his piece of steak voraciously. After swallowing the piece of meat, the curiosity that had been spinning in his head since earlier finally became unbearable.
"Aunt Flo," Lucien called softly while placing his knife on the edge of the plate.
"What was it like there... and how was your matriculation day back then?" Lucien asked curiously.
"Madness" Florence chuckled lightly as she put down her fork. A nostalgic smile slowly appeared on the corner of her lips as she looked out the window.
"The place was truly extraordinary compared to others, but it was really confusing. Thousands of people gathered in the Great Hall for matriculation preparation, and everyone was panicking looking for their respective lines. Back then I was still very awkward and clumsy. I was so nervous I even dropped my notebook until the papers scattered on the floor because I was pushed by the crowd," Florence recounted with a nostalgic smile.
"A Florence Faraday was ever that clumsy?" Lucien teased with one eyebrow raised, amused.
"Don't mock me, young man," Florence replied, pointing at Lucien.
"In a crowd that big, anyone can get nervous," Florence said with a thin smile.
"But thankfully, at that time, there was a girl who saved me," she continued with a warm glint in her eyes.
"She was petite and very pretty, but her temper was something else," she said while leaning her back against the wooden chair.
"As soon as she saw me panicking, picking up notes on the floor with my cravat knot crooked and my wool robe a mess, she immediately grabbed my collar and straightened it, looking annoyed." she continued with a soft chuckle.
"Throughout helping me pick up the scattered papers, she scolded me non-stop about how I carried my things and told me to focus more so I wouldn't get easily shoved by people," added Florence, shaking her head.
"But thanks to her scolding, my appearance became neat and I wasn't late entering the ceremony line," she concluded, smiling warmly.
"You became close friends after that?" Lucien asked, interested.
"Very close," Florence answered with a small smirk.
"Although in the end, we argued more often than we got along. You'll understand what I mean if you meet her sometime later," added Florence as she reached for her fork again.
Before Lucien could respond, the casual conversation was suddenly cut off by the sound of knocking echoing from the front door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Florence and Lucien simultaneously turned toward the living room. In the corner of the kitchen, Lumi just stopped chewing for a moment and flicked her ears, before returning to being busy with her meal.
"Let me open it," said Florence, reaching for a napkin to wipe her lips, then standing up from the dining table.
Florence walked across the living room's wooden floor toward the front door. Her hand turned the brass knob, then pulled the door inward. The cool air of the approaching evening instantly crept in, carrying a faint scent of street coal residue mixed with the smell of sandalwood.
At the doorstep stood Inspector Leon, still wearing his hat and thick coat. His firm face looked tired and cloudy, implying a long and annoying day of duty. However, the tension on his face softened slightly upon seeing Florence opening the door.
"Oh, Leon," Florence greeted warmly.
Leon's gaze glanced briefly past Florence's shoulder toward the dining room, finding the silhouette of Lucien who turned out to be awake and sitting at the dining table. Lucien, who heard the conversation at the front, also turned his gaze toward the door.
"You're feeling better, Lucien?" Leon greeted with a low, calm tone from the doorway.
"Much better, Leon. Thank you," Lucien replied politely from his chair while nodding slightly.
Leon locked his gaze back on Florence. The man leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice into a hushed whisper that could only be heard by the woman in front of him.
"Does he know?" he whispered, referring to the development of the vessel collapse case from three days ago.
Florence nodded very slowly, her gaze conveying complete understanding.
"Don't," Florence replied in a low but firm whisper, giving a clear signal that the grim news should not be brought before Lucien.
Leon sighed faintly, understanding the warning and not questioning further. He straightened his posture again, then spoke in a normal, direct volume.
"I just stopped by to confirm our plan," he said, getting straight to the point.
"Dinner tomorrow," continued Leon while looking at Florence.
"I will come to pick you up with a horse carriage at six o'clock sharp, so we have enough time to get there," he added to confirm.
"Six o'clock sounds perfect, Leon," Florence replied softly.
Leon nodded slowly, the corners of his lips seemingly lifting slightly.
"Great. Get some good rest until tomorrow, Flo," Leon said while touching the brim of his hat once more as a sign of a polite farewell before turning his back.
"Good afternoon," he added briefly.
"Take care on your way, Leon," Florence replied softly while smiling.
Leon walked away along the sidewalk of the Old Quarter which was covered by grey clouds. Florence stared at the man's back for a moment before slowly closing the wooden door of her house again, cutting off the cold air from outside and walking back toward the warmth of the dining table on the ground floor.