SFYF 08

Chapter 8

Still, it’s my first day on the job, so I should look neat, right? Yes, I’ve decided on you.” With a look of resolve, she pulled out the plainest navy-blue dress. The fabric felt rough against her fingertips, but its lack of fussy embellishments made it comfortable to move in. “Good. Not bad at all.” Marien smiled contentedly at her reflection in the mirror. The coarse fabric against her skin wasn’t particularly uncomfortable—in fact, it felt more like wearing clothes that truly belonged to her. Marien’s father had been a low-ranking clerk at City Hall. Her mother had meticulously stretched his meager salary to manage their household frugally. For Marien, life as Madam Schneider had sometimes felt suffocatingly burdensome. Extravagant clothes and jewels, priced beyond imagination, stirred fear rather than satisfaction. Yet she believed enduring this was her due if she wished to stay by Christoph’s side. If Madam Schneider appeared shabby, it would be Christoph who’d suffer the gossip—and she never wanted to become his burden. “Enough of these pointless thoughts.” Shaking her head lightly as if to dispel her tangled musings, Marien reminded herself that every thought always led back to Christoph. Christoph Schneider. Her husband—and a man who seemed to possess everything perfectly. “He’s my husband no longer, I suppose.” Marien checked her reflection once more before opening the door and stepping outside. Her usual neatly coiled golden hair was now braided into a single plait hanging over her chest. Downstairs, she saw Mrs. List, the landlady, carrying a bucket. “Good morning, ma’am.” Though she’d only been here a few days, Marien found the boarding house quite satisfactory—chiefly because, as the coachman had boasted, Mrs. List’s cooking was truly excellent. But even more to her liking was the fact that she was the only resident in this two-story boarding house. “It’s your first day at work, Clo—no, Marien.” The landlady, who had consistently addressed her as “Mrs. Clozier” upon seeing her in her black dress, now awkwardly switched her form of address. “Yes. I’m terribly nervous.” Marien feigned a sullen expression and pouted—a behavior she’d never have dared as Madam Schneider. Back then, openly showing one’s emotions was considered vulgar, something only commoners would do. Perhaps this was what people meant by “clothes make the man.” Actions she’d never have taken before now came naturally. This wasn’t Marien Schneider—it was Marien Clozier, a version of herself she’d nearly forgotten. Marien drooped the corners of her eyes again and let out a little whimper. “I barely slept last night. Every time I dozed off, I had nightmares.” “Oh dear.” Everyone feels nervous about firsts. Though one eventually realizes it wasn’t such a big deal after all, until then, worry can’t be willed away. It had always been the same: her first errand, her first day of school, her first exam—and even her grand wedding to Christoph. Each time, her heart pounded as if about to leap from her chest, yet she’d always managed well. So she would manage this time too. After all, why would she suddenly fail now when she’d succeeded every time before? Marien repeated those words to herself like a mantra, whispering them over and over to steel her resolve. “Now then, aren’t you taking an umbrella?” Mrs. List, eyeing Marien’s outfit, set down her bucket and asked. Marien shook her head. “I don’t want to give them any excuse to criticize me. They probably already see me as a thorn in their side—if I show up with an umbrella, they’ll surely say, ‘Looks like someone’s out for a leisurely stroll!’” “That’s not it at all, Marien.” Mrs. List placed her hands firmly on her hips as if scolding her for such nonsense. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “An umbrella is meant for knocking those rascals’ heads clean off.” “!” Startled by the unexpected remark, Marien’s eyes widened—and then she burst out laughing. Instantly, the tension drained from her stiffened body. “Aha! Ahaha!” Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, she gazed warmly at Mrs. List. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be off now.” “Have a good day. I’ll show off my cooking skills for dinner tonight—you can look forward to it. We’ll celebrate your first day!” “Oh, that’s more encouraging than any pep talk!” With those words, Marien stepped out of the boarding house. Mrs. List followed her to the front door to see her off. Though she carried no umbrella, Marien strode confidently, swinging her arms briskly. If anyone dared cause trouble, she’d knock their head off—not with an umbrella, but with her fists. The police headquarters stood at the heart of the old town. Blauberg, nestled between mountains, plains, and sea, carried a briny tang everywhere you went. Sometimes, taking a deep breath of air even left a salty taste on your tongue. It took exactly fifteen minutes to walk from the boarding house to the police station. Arriving with ample time to spare, Marien looked up at the aged stone building and took a deep breath. “So this is where I’ll be working from now on.” The gray stone walls of the police station exuded a solemn grandeur, as if echoing the weight of the years it had stood. Her heart pounded loudly—not just from nerves, but because the dream she’d once let go of now stood right before her eyes. “Alright.” Marien drew another deep breath and stepped forward. Upon entering the building, she immediately asked the first person she met for directions to the chief’s office. A man, yawning with exhaustion, sized her up from head to toe before speaking in a disinterested tone. “Why are you looking for the chief’s office?” Having assessed the situation, he adopted a defensive stance—as if ready to shoo her away if her answer wasn’t satisfactory. Marien responded with an elegant smile. Living as Madam Schneider had taught her one thing: sometimes a smile conveyed more authority than words ever could. Sure enough, the man scratched his head sheepishly. His tone softened noticeably as he spoke again. “Did you make an appointment with the chief?” “Of course.” “Oh! Well, that changes things. The chief’s office is at the end of the right corridor upstairs.” “Thank you.” “Not at all, miss.” Marien turned and walked away, leaving him behind. The man, still scratching his eyebrow, watched her until she’d climbed all the stairs—his meaningful gaze perhaps imagining her as the chief’s mistress. Such incidents would likely happen countless times. After all, the police station wasn’t a place that welcomed women, let alone one suitable for female officers. “That’s how it’s been until now—but it doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way.” Standing before the last door in the corridor, Marien straightened her attire. She gave a light knock, and a voice called out, “Come in.” Surprised by how young the voice sounded, Marien soon understood why: a young man, presumably the secretary, greeted her warmly. Across from her stood another heavy door. “Miss Marien Habeck?” The secretary rose from his seat in recognition. “Yes.” Marien nodded solemnly. Habeck was her mother’s maiden name. Though she was far better known as Madam Schneider than as Marien Clozier, caution never hurt. If anyone might know her true name, it would be someone of the chief’s standing. Though she couldn’t recall ever seeing him at a ball, Marien had chosen to be careful. The secretary, still smiling kindly, led her to the other door. He knocked, and permission to enter was granted. This time, the voice was seasoned and dignified—just as she’d expected. The secretary opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. “Go ahead.” “Thank you.” Marien returned his polite smile flawlessly and stepped inside. The room was slightly smaller than Christoph’s office. Yet its layout was strikingly similar: a desk by the window, bookshelves lining one entire wall, and a sofa with a table for guests. Perhaps it was mandated by law—otherwise, how could every office be so uniformly old-fashioned? Marien, as if she’d never entertained such whimsical thoughts, looked calmly down at the man seated at the desk. He raised an eyebrow and slowly stood. Though half-bald, he had a surprisingly robust build for his age. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Chief Wilhelm Simon.” “Call me Nicholas.” Simon gave instructions to his secretary before finally turning his attention to her. His deep brown eyes betrayed a mix of emotions—awkwardness, disapproval, and a flicker of curiosity—directed toward her. “Hmm… so you’re Marien Habeck… miss? I’m not sure how to address you. You’re the first woman at our precinct.” “How do you address the other officers?” “Just by their first names. Occasionally by rank when annoyed. We’ve all known each other for a long time.” “Then please address me the same way. We might be seeing quite a lot of each other too.” Marien didn’t seek special treatment. She gave a slight, knowing smile. Simon, eyebrows twitching in surprise, nodded. “Alright, Habeck.” “Please call me Marien, Chief.” “Very well, Marien.” Simon called her name with refreshing ease. Marien straightened her posture even more and met his gaze directly. Simon’s eyes gleamed with interest. From Marien’s speech and demeanor, it was easy to guess she came from the upper class. Yet her attire—a cheap dress and hat bearing no designer’s name—told a different story. Simon studied her appearance once more, his expression unreadable, as if measuring the gap between her refined bearing and modest dress. Perhaps she was the daughter of some ruined noble family? Marien Habeck. As he had done over the past few days, Simon silently repeated the name—but no familiar figure came to mind. Marien was too common a name, and Habeck was entirely unfamiliar. “Marquis Schneider recommended you… I expect you’ll do your utmost not to tarnish his name.” “Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.” “May I ask—how do you know Marquis Schneider?” Simon tried to sound casual, as if it weren’t a crucial question—but Marien knew he was listening intently to her answer. She replied with feigned nonchalance. “I once did him a small kindness, and he seems to consider it a debt. When he learned I wished to become an officer, he arranged this opportunity for me. I’m truly grateful.” “…So you’re not close, then?” “Not at all. How could someone like me possibly know such an esteemed gentleman?” “Good.” Just as Simon nodded at Marien’s artful reply, a knock sounded, and the door opened. The man who entered had dark brown hair and sharp features. His piercing gaze and tightly set lips gave an impression of stubbornness. “You called, Chief?” “Ah, Nicholas.” Nicholas glanced briefly at Marien before stepping to her side. Simon introduced her. “This is Marien Habeck.” Nicholas’s eyes flickered with curiosity. When their eyes met, Marien smiled gently and said, “Please call me Marien.” Still bewildered, Nicholas offered only a slight nod of acknowledgment. “She’ll be working with your team from now on.” For a moment, Nicholas frowned—so taken aback he forgot even basic courtesy.