Friday quickly arrived.
It was just past seven in the morning.
When Ryan pushed open the apartment door, a familiar figure was already standing in the courtyard.
Irene stood by the water well, clutching her books.
The girl had clearly put effort into her appearance today.
Her dark blue school uniform was neatly pressed, with the academy badge pinned to her collar. Her usually messy chestnut hair was tied back into a ponytail, and her bangs had been carefully styled.
The corners of the books in her arms were wrapped in protective kraft paper.
It was obvious she cherished them deeply.
Hearing the door open, Irene turned around.
She froze for a moment.
“Why are you dressed so formally today?”
Ryan looked down at himself.
He was wearing a formal black uniform with silver buttons, and the East End Archive badge was pinned to his chest.
In addition to the parent-teacher meeting today, the academy had scheduled a career presentation for the afternoon.
Since it was official business, he naturally couldn't dress as casually as usual.
Irene sized him up, looking him up and down several times.
Finally, she couldn't help but remark, “You really look more and more like a civil servant now.”
Ryan smiled. “And what did I look like before?”
“Like someone about to die of an illness.”
“...”
Ryan was momentarily left speechless.
Yet, Irene flashed a rare smile.
“Seriously. When I first met you, I honestly doubted you'd survive the winter.”
The two walked out of the apartment building together.
It was a rare day in London without rain.
However, the sky remained a gloomy grey.
Lead-colored clouds hung incredibly low, and the stone pavements along the streets were damp.
The air was a thick mixture of coal smoke and humidity.
The streets were filled with people rushing to work.
Paperboys bellowed at the top of their lungs to sell newspapers.
Bakeries were just opening their doors.
Several workers hurried toward the factories clutching their breakfasts, while groups of students in school uniforms walked together.
Irene seemed to be in a good mood today.
She spent the entire walk telling Ryan about things at school.
“Our history teacher is absolutely dreadful. Every time he talks about the Imperial Wars, he keeps us thirty minutes over. And etiquette class is even more annoying. Day in and day out, they teach us how to smile, how to drink tea, and how to sit down. Last week, Lucy got caught sneaking candy and had to stand for the entire period.”
Ryan nodded as he listened, occasionally offering a brief response.
These trivial matters actually felt remarkably real.
Lately, he had been exposed to too much of the East Port, ghouls, and aspect pollution.
Listening to an ordinary student complain about her teachers gave him a long-lost sense of ease.
As they headed north, the streets gradually began to change.
The low, cramped brick houses of the East End slowly thinned out, replaced by much tidier residential areas.
The roads widened, the litter diminished, and the number of patrolmen visibly increased.
Expensive clothing and imported goods even began to appear in the shop windows along the street.
Irene stole a glance at those shops, a hint of envy in her eyes, but she quickly averted her gaze.
Ryan noticed, but he didn't say anything.
He knew that for many East End families, the North End was like an entirely different world.
And Harrington Girls' Academy was the bridge that connected these two worlds.
Half an hour later, the academy finally came into view.
It featured tall white stone walls, an ornate iron gate, and a manicured lawn. Rows of plane trees lined both sides of the road.
Over a dozen carriages were parked outside the school gates.
A few wealthy ladies in elegant dresses were conversing with the teachers.
One could even catch a faint scent of perfume in the air, a stark contrast to the persistent smell of coal smoke on the streets of the East End.
Ryan suddenly understood why Irene's parents had grit their teeth and sent her here.
What they taught here was perhaps not just knowledge, but an entirely different way of life.
Once they passed through the school gates, the surroundings became noticeably livelier.
The girls, all dressed in identical uniforms, gathered in small groups of two or three to chat.
Some students from well-off families were even accompanied by maids.
In contrast, Irene subconsciously tightened her grip on the books in her arms, and her pace slowed down slightly.
Ryan keenly noticed this.
“Nervous?”
Irene shook her head.
“No.”
She paused for a moment, then added, “It's just that sometimes, I feel like I don't belong here.”
Ryan glanced at her and didn't speak immediately.
He could understand this feeling.
The original Ryan had experienced something similar when he studied at St. Blaise.
When children from poor families entered a higher social circle, the first thing they often learned was not knowledge, but an inferiority complex.
“So, how are your grades?” Ryan asked suddenly.
Irene was taken aback. “Top ten.”
“And in history and literature?”
“Top five.”
“Then what's the issue?”
Irene blinked.
Ryan continued, “You got in through examinations, not by climbing over the wall. Since the teachers give you grades and the school accepts your tuition, then there is a place for you here.”
Irene fell silent for a couple of seconds.
Then, she let out a quiet, “Oh.”
However, the tips of her ears had quietly flushed red.
As they walked further inside, more and more students began to steal glances at Ryan.
He was young, wore a formal uniform and dark glasses, and was quite good-looking.
Among the crowd of parents, he stood out exceptionally.
A few passing girls even whispered among themselves.
“Who is that?”
“Is that Irene's brother?”
“I don't think so.”
“He's so young.”
“A civil servant?”
Irene's face flushed instantly.
She immediately quickened her pace. “Hurry up.”
Ryan almost laughed out loud.
The interior of the academy's main building was equally exquisite.
The corridors were lined with long carpets, oil paintings hung on the walls, and even the curtains were a pale gold.
Sunlight streamed through the glass windows, making the entire space appear much brighter.
It was a completely different world from the damp, chilly red brick buildings of St. Blaise Boys' Public School.
Irene suddenly lowered her voice.
“The tuition is nearly ten pounds a year.”
Ryan paused in his tracks.
“Ten pounds?”
“Mhm. And there are also textbook fees, uniform fees, and various activity fees.” Her voice grew softer. “Actually, my family can't afford it at all. Father has taken on a lot of night shifts, and Mother is constantly doing sewing work. I know they hope I can leave the East End in the future.”
Ryan suddenly understood why Irene always worked so hard.
It was because an entire family stood behind her.
The whole family was bearing the cost for her.
If she failed, what would be lost wouldn't just be a sum of tuition money, but years of time and countless hopes.
The two arrived at the classroom.
A good number of parents were already seated inside.
The air was thick with the scent of ink, perfume, and woolen coats.
A female teacher stood before the lectern, organizing her materials.
She was visibly taken aback when she saw Ryan, as he was simply too young.
Irene quickly explained, “He is a family elder.”
The female teacher looked between the two of them, her expression slightly peculiar, but she ultimately nodded.
“Please, have a seat.”
Ryan took a seat in the back row.
Sunlight streamed through the window, causing him to instinctively tilt his head.
Since his Lantern's glow had been enhanced, his eyes had become increasingly sensitive to light.
Strong light, in particular, always brought a subtle, stinging sensation.
Irene stealthily passed him a slip of paper.
On it was written a single sentence:
“You really look more and more like a vampire now.”
Ryan looked down to read it, almost laughing.
The classroom gradually filled up.
Parents conversed in low voices, while the girls secretly observed one another.
Some boasted about their grades, some showed off their new dresses, and others were discussing their future engagements.
Ryan sat quietly in the back row.
He suddenly had a strange feeling.
The bloodstains and the ghoul in the East Port warehouse felt as if they belonged to another world entirely.
Yet here, people were still discussing literature, etiquette, higher education, and the future.
London had always been this way.
On one side were the corpses in the slums.
On the other side was afternoon tea in the academies.
The two coexisted simultaneously, never interfering with each other, as if separated by an invisible wall.
Rate on N.U.
