Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game

Grantham District near the center of Indahl was an area predominantly inhabited by the middle class.

The two-story townhouses here exuded an air of modest affluence. Though not as extravagant as the mansions in the wealthiest districts with their dozens of rooms, these houses typically boasted around ten rooms.

Sixteen-year-old maid Claire, for instance, had her own small room converted from a storage space under the stairs.

At the first light of dawn, Claire awoke, swiftly donned her maid's uniform, and scurried to the washbasin in the yard to freshen up. After making herself presentable, she grabbed a basket from the kitchen and headed to the room at the far end of the corridor, adjacent to the living room. She gently knocked and called in a hushed voice, "Madam Wylie, I'm ready."

After a few moments, Madam Wylie, the impeccably coiffed housekeeper, emerged from her room. She wore a dignified blue dress that fell to her calves and carried a delicate handbag.

Madam Wylie critically surveyed Claire, her gaze lingering on the slightly disheveled braids with a hint of displeasure, but she refrained from commenting.

"Let's go," she said curtly.

"Yes," Claire replied, carrying the basket and following Madam Wylie out of the house.

Their household's master would wake up in two hours, ready for breakfast and to start his day. Claire and Madam Wylie had to ensure the master's shirt and formal attire were ironed by 8:30 a.m. and had breakfast prepared for the family.

After the master of the house was seen off, Madam Wylie's duties included ironing the dresses and gowns for the lady of the house as well as arranging the matching jewelry. Claire was responsible for washing the dishes and tidying up the house. If the lady wished to host a tea party, they would also need to prepare fruits and pastries in advance.

At six in the morning, the nearby Marley Commercial Street was already bustling with activity. Claire followed Madam Wylie to the market, where vendors greeted them enthusiastically, "Good morning, Lady Wylie! Come and take a look at today's celery. It was delivered from the countryside after midnight and extremely fresh!"

Hearing the greeting, Claire knew that a celery salad would be added to today's breakfast menu. Madam Wylie, who relished being addressed as "Lady," was likely to make a purchase if the vegetables were indeed fresh.

Indeed, Madam Wylie, impressed by the vendor's flattering approach, purchased two large bunches of celery from him, along with a few tomatoes and a head of cabbage.

Households from neighboring districts commonly shopped at Marley Commercial Street, though it was the meticulously dressed maids and housekeepers from Grantham District, known for not haggling over a copper or two, that were the preferred customers of the street's vendors.

Of course, they were more discerning than the housewives from the commoner districts, and only the best-looking produce could catch their eyes.

As they continued down the street, Claire's basket filled quickly.

"Why are there no fresh apples today?" Madam Wylie lamented, having inspected several fruit stalls without satisfaction. Checking her pocket watch and preparing to move on, she was suddenly jostled by a boy in a red cape.

Madam Wylie was about to fume but softened when the boy looked up in surprise, his rosy and fair face, clearly that of a well-bred child, flushed with embarrassment. "My apologies, madam. I was in a hurry to share some good news with my sister and didn't watch where I was going."

On closer inspection of the boy, who appeared even more refined than the young masters of their own household, Madan Wylie's irritation faded completely, especially after noticing his expensive-looking fine attire.

With a smile, she responded, "You must be more careful, even if you're in a hurry."

In this world, one's attire served as the best introduction. The boy's high-quality red half-cape with a hood, checkered waistcoat over a crisp shirt, and polished patent leather shoes indicated he wouldn't be out of place at a respectable tea party.

Grateful for Madam Wylie's leniency, the boy eagerly fished in his pocket. Amid the clink of coins, he produced an elegantly patterned business card and handed it to her, saying earnestly, "Please allow me to share this good news with you too, madam. At 063 Prant Street, there's a marvelous shop, perfect for a lady of your elegance. They have a miraculous technology that can offer you the most perfect afternoon."

Had this card been offered by a door-to-door salesman, Madam Wylie would have dismissively refused it—part of her weekly duties involved declining such tiresome sales pitches for her lady.

However, coming from a well-mannered young gentleman from a respectable family who seemed eager to share this "good news" with his sister, Madam Wylie's resistance was significantly lowered. She accepted the card with a smile.

"Goodbye, madam. I'll be taking my sister there. Perhaps we'll see you," the boy said cheerily, waving as he ran off.ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NoᴠᴇFɪre.nᴇt

Madam Wylie tucked the card into her handbag, remarking, "What a polite young man," before resuming their grocery shopping, soon forgetting the encounter.

In a middle-class household of four striving to maintain a lifestyle close to that of the nobility, the housekeeper and maid would always be busy, especially when ironing elaborate dresses for the lady of the house. Dealing with the intricate, handwoven lace was particularly troublesome, and that took up much of Madam Wylie's morning.

It was nearly noon when the lavishly dressed lady of the house went out in a carriage.

Next on the agenda was preparing lunch to be sent to the master at work as well as the two young monsters in school.

Madam Wylie had just finished preparing three lunch boxes and called a local errand boy to deliver them when, to her surprise, the lady of the house returned home less than an hour after leaving, along with the cautious Claire in tow.

"I should have known they'd invite that annoying man. I wouldn't have agreed to go if I'd known," grumbled the mistress as she stepped out of the carriage. She gestured for Claire to settle the carriage fee and spoke to Madam Wylie as she entered the house, "Help me change out of this dress, Wylie, and then accompany me to Prant Street for lunch. I refuse to dine alone at home when the weather is so lovely."

Madam Wylie promptly assisted, taking her mistress's arm.

Households with an annual income exceeding 50 gold coins were privileged enough to emulate the lifestyle of the upper class. As reported in newspapers, spending a rainy day in solitary elegance or enjoying sunny days at gatherings, outings, and dining at reputable restaurants were among the cherished "lifestyles" of well-to-do middle-class housewives.

Prant Street, located along the center of Indahl, was a bustling street devoid of workers in overalls or commoner housewives with skirts that barely covered their knees.

On sunny days, the entire street was frequented by "respectable" people, accompanied by their butlers, maids, or servants. The men usually donned well-tailored suits and top hats, while the women wore ankle-length dresses with multiple layers, carrying expensive deerskin handbags and having their servants hold parasols for them.

Madam Wylie wasn't particularly fond of visiting this street. The reflection of her calf-length dress in shop windows always made her feel inferior, especially when compared to her employer's long gowns. Yet, this was not within her control.

The weather today was splendid, and the avenue was bustling. Madam Wylie, holding a parasol and having a bag dangle from her wrist, accompanied her mistress, and they came across several ladies from Grantham or similar districts along the way.

These ladies relished such "chance encounters," stopping to chat regardless of whether they knew each other well, often boasting about the parties they had attended or the prominent figures they had met. In their eyes, merely exchanging a word or two with these dignitaries, irrespective of whether they remembered them, was a badge of acquaintance.

Madam Wylie had grown weary of such vapid, boastful conversations.

As she listlessly surveyed her surroundings, Madam Wylie's attention was suddenly captured by a lady exiting a nearby shop. The lady's attire wasn't particularly extraordinary, lacking the lavish complexity of the dresses Madam Wylie prepared for her mistress. Yet, she captivated Madam Wylie with her striking beauty!

Madam Wylie had organized numerous tea parties and gatherings for her mistress and had encountered many ladies. Yet none of them could compare to the beauty of this woman—her delicate face rivaled those seen in ladies' magazines!

It wasn't just limited to Madam Wylie; all other passersby, both men and women, stopped in their tracks at the sight of this woman who seemed as if she had stepped right out of a painting, causing a stir of admiration and astonishment.

Ladies engaged in idle chatter noticed the unusual attention and turned to see the woman, who stood confidently and proudly at the edge of the sidewalk, seemingly waiting for someone but clearly reveling in the display of her beauty.

"When did Indahl gain such a stunning lady?" one affluent lady whispered enviously. "Which family's… wife might she be?"

The strikingly beautiful woman, with her hair elegantly pinned up and a mature demeanor, didn't seem to be a young miss.

Upon hearing the comments, the woman turned her head over, her eyes twinkling with a smile that was both approachable and, more so, radiating pride. "Good day, ladies. The weather is indeed lovely today, isn't it?"

Hearing her voice, the chatting ladies, including Madam Wylie, were taken aback, their eyes widening and mouths agape.

"Y-you are… Anita?" Madam Wylie's mistress exclaimed in shock as if she had seen a ghost.

Madam Anita lifted her chin triumphantly, basking in the glory of her transformation.

The shop door behind her opened again, and out stepped a young girl in a maid's attire, carrying a parasol and a portrait frame—Anita's personal maid, known by most of a similar standing.

The group of ladies erupted in excitement, momentarily forgetting their usual poise and elegance, and crowded around in astonishment.

"Oh my gosh, it really is Anita!"

"Good heavens, Anita, how have you changed so much! We couldn't even recognize you!"

Madam Wylie hurriedly followed her employer, peering curiously over the crowd at the dramatically transformed Lady Anita.

As a resident of Grantham District, Madam Wylie vividly remembered what Anita looked like—she had seen her only yesterday!

Anita reveled in the praises of the ladies, gesturing for her maid to bring forward her framed portrait, unwrapping it to show off her newly taken photoshoot, looking completely angelic in it.

"I had a whole set taken. There are even larger photos that haven't been developed yet, the kind you can hang in the hall," Anita declared in satisfaction.

The ladies were immensely curious. "Photos? Does photographing really transform you like this?" they questioned.

Anita touched her cheek with a triumphant smile. "No, it's merely an enhancement to capture a more true and natural version of myself," she explained.

She then eagerly began to boast about her unfinished large portraits, talking incessantly about their beauty.

Suddenly, Madam Wylie had a realization. She looked up in astonishment at the store behind Anita, her eyes fixated on the sign hanging above the door.

"Perfect Dream Portrait Studio" read the sign, and just beside the entrance was the address: Prant Street, number 063.

Madam Wylie quickly sandwiched her parasol under her arm and rummaged through her handbag for the business card she had received that morning…

It bore the same address.