Selene City

Selene City sprawled over a vast land, befitting the status of a Marquess within the Magnolia Empire. Unlike most noble fiefs, this big city rivaled the grandeur of an imperial capital, divided meticulously into three districts.

At its heart lay the High District, the very center of power. The Gwendolyn Household resided here, their estate a symbol of unwavering authority. A handful of trusted noble vassals also held residence within its fortified grounds, ensuring swift responses in times of crisis. Only the privileged walked these streets, where security was at its strictest.

Beyond it, the General District bustled with life, its vast expanse split into two major sections. The first was a thriving commercial hub, where renowned merchants from all over the region displayed their finest wares. Elite shops lined the streets, their prosperity evident in the polished marble storefronts and vibrant banners fluttering in the morning breeze. Security in this commercial hub is well ensured, with a security post always manned by an elite knight from House Gwendolyn. They take shifts leading patrols alongside a group of commoner guards from the second section, stationed at key points along the route.

The second section was a carefully maintained residential quarter, reserved exclusively for those who had sworn allegiance to the House Gwendolyn. Unlike the disorderly sprawl of commoners' homes in other cities from other nobles, this settlement was a testament to order and stability. Lush greenery flourished, and the people either thrived as merchants at the commercial hub or tending to the fertile lands. Their produce sustained the district and even served as a tribute to the ruling family, Gwendolyns.

Then, there was the Lower District.

Despite its name, it was neither a slum nor a haven for the destitute. Established generations ago by a past Marquess Gwendolyn for reasons now lost to time, it stood as a peculiar anomaly. The land here was cheaper, the regulations looser, so long as businesses adhered to certain unyielding restrictions. Each trade could only be represented by a single establishment, preventing monopolies or expansionist greed. Slavery and human trafficking were strictly forbidden, but within those boundaries, nearly anything else was permitted. A lone brothel and a single casino stood as quiet testaments to this odd leniency, operating under the watchful eye of the Gwendolyns. Foreign businesses flourished here, despite the scornful glances they received from the capital's nobility.

And it was here, in the Lower District, that Eleanor sought out John Burbom's establishment.

The Manpower Supply Center.

She had no interest in lingering within the bustling General District, no matter how much the world her younger brother had created intrigued her.

As much as she wanted to wander, to take in the sights of a living, breathing city, today was not the time. She had slipped away unnoticed, and she needed to return before anyone in the Gwendolyn residence realized her absence!

Tina, her maid, had promised to delay her family's interference for as long as possible, but Eleanor knew she couldn't afford to push her luck.

The thought of Tina's unwavering loyalty brought a bitter smile to her lips. The young maid hadn't even asked where Eleanor was going, nor questioned her reasons.

She also agreed to Eleanor's request to let her slip out of the residence without personal guards.

She had only pleaded for her safe return, her voice laced with concern.

That kind of trust...

Eleanor felt a strange warmth at the thought.

Tina was still so young. She deserved kindness in return.

So Eleanor vowed not to waste a single precious second that Tina, her maid, had given her. She needed to finish her business quickly and return before anyone noticed she was gone!

Hopefully, when I arrive, I'll catch John Burbom doing something suspicious and convince him to return to the right path! Eleanor imagined.

Since the main story's original plot was still half a month away, she doubted there would be any concrete evidence of John Burbom scheming to get close to the heroine. But it wouldn't hurt to check anyway.

The journey into Selene had been smooth, the simple wooden carriage Tina arranged for her blending seamlessly into the city traffic. However, her arrival at the General District brought an unexpected obstacle.

The coachman, an old man with wary eyes, had dropped her off in the middle of the bustling trade roads instead of closer to her true destination.

Eleanor frowned, about to demand an explanation, but the man had already begun to plead for understanding.

"It's the rule here, my lady," he said, bowing deeply. "Only cargo wagons are allowed deeper within the General and Lower Districts. Security checks, you see. We can't have contraband slipping through unnoticed."

Oh, right. Dammit..!

Eleanor clenched her jaw. She had forgotten that detail about Selene's regulations. Only special open-roof carriages, modified for easy inspection, were permitted beyond this point.

She couldn't use an open-roof carriage, as her black cloak was necessary to conceal her striking ginger hair—anything else would only draw the guards' suspicion. But removing the cloak and pretending to be someone else would be just as foolish. It would be the same as openly announcing to everyone in the General District that Young Lady from House Gwendolyn was here in disguise.

"..."

Eleanor was too lost in thought to notice the old coachman's expression—one of clear recognition and concern. Given that news of her accident had likely spread throughout the city, which was under Gwendolyn's rule, it was no surprise he was worried.

Though Eleanor hid herself beneath a large black cloak, the coachman knew of the rumors that the youngest lady's head was heavily bandaged. Seeing her appear somewhat dazed and uncertain about the long-established rules of her own family, he found it only natural to be concerned.

"Of course, there's always an exception," the old coachman continued carefully, his gaze flickering with recognition. "If you were to ride in a Gwendolyn-marked carriage, my lady, you could go wherever you pleased."

Eleanor stiffened, her grip tightening on the folds of her black cloak.

So, he had an inkling of who I was...

Not surprising, considering he had picked her up from the Gwendolyn estate. She suppressed the urge to curse. Using a Gwendolyn carriage would defeat the purpose of sneaking out unnoticed.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a small, polite smile. "That won't be necessary. Thank you for your concern."

With that, she slowly turned away, melting into the crowd before the old man could press further.

A little look around wouldn't hurt, right?

The streets before her were a vibrant chaos of merchants calling out their wares, shopkeepers adjusting their signs, and workers scrubbing storefront windows while exchanging lighthearted chatter. The tantalizing aroma of grilled food filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of fresh parchment and exotic spices.

Eleanor inhaled sharply, her heart pounding.

It felt ... real.

This wasn't just some setting described in neat paragraphs. The people, their lives, and their emotions weren't just background details. They laughed, they argued, and they hurried through their morning routines without a second thought. Children ran past her, shrieking with laughter, while a mother scolded a mischievous son for nearly toppling a basket of fruit.

Her fingers twitched. A strange chill crept up her spine, a realization settling deep within her bones.

This world...

Her little brother had written it. He had created every brick, every breath, every story unfolding before her eyes. And yet, it existed beyond the confines of ink and paper. It lived.

At first, Eleanor was truly stunned by how real everything felt—the genuine concern and affection from the Marquess, Marchioness, and Alger Gwendolyn toward her as Eleanor Gwendolyn. Still, she reasoned that it was only natural since they were named characters, even if their roles weren't as crucial as the Heroine and the Crown Prince, the true main characters of this world.

So she had assumed that unnamed characters, those never mentioned in the novel, would move stiffly like programmed figures, lacking the depth and spontaneity of real people. But as she observed Selene City—the way families gathered, people worked to make a living, children played and cried together, and couples strolled on morning dates—everything felt so authentic that she couldn't help but stand in awe.

"... gulp."

She swallowed hard, tilting her head up toward the sky. The sun had yet to reach its peak, the morning air still carrying a crisp coolness.

"Wow..."

She was afraid. But she was also proud.

Her younger brother had crafted something extraordinary.

A world she was now a part of.

Shaking off the lingering unease, Eleanor took a deep breath and set her sights forward. She had no time to dwell. The Lower District awaited, and John Burbom's business held answers she needed to uncover.

She slowly disappeared into the heart of the city her brother had created.

As she stepped into the Lower District, the scenery shifted. The polished elegance of the General District faded into something more rugged, more varied. Buildings here were a mishmash of foreign styles, wooden structures with curved roofs standing beside brick and mortar buildings with intricate carvings.

The roads were clean but uneven, a sign of practical maintenance rather than aesthetic perfection. Unlike the neatly arranged stalls of the shopping district, the businesses here were uniquely individual, each standing alone, their signage bold and unmistakable.

The Manpower Supply Center stood among them, its exterior stark and functional. A solid, imposing structure of dark wood and iron reinforcements, it lacked the decorative flair of its neighbors. A simple metal plaque hung by the entrance, its lettering crisp and efficient. It was clear this was not a place meant to entice customers, it was a place for transactions, for business.

"..."

Eleanor slowly approached, pushing the heavy door open. The inside was just as unembellished as the outside, wooden floors, high shelves filled with neatly bound ledgers, and a long counter where clerks worked in quiet efficiency. The air smelled of ink and aged parchment, and despite the quiet murmur of business being conducted, there was an undeniable weight to the atmosphere.

John Burbom was here.