Chapter 13 – My Fair Lady

Ｒ​ｅａ​ｄ ​ｏｎ Ｋａｔ​Ｒｅａｄ​ｉｎｇ​Ｃａｆｅ

I am a Gypsy.

I was born in Prussia, raised in Prussia, and have lived among the people of Prussia. I reside in Prussia, speak the Prussian language, and have lived as a Prussian.

But to them, I am not a Prussian—I am a Gypsy.

There is an invisible, insurmountable wall between us, and I have always believed it could never be crossed.

My ancestors came from a distant land in the East, the Mughal Empire of the Orient, all the way to Europa. I only heard stories of that faraway place as a child and have never seen it myself. My parents were also born and raised in Europe, so they knew little about our ancestral homeland. All I know is that it is a hot and dry land, as I’ve heard in passing.

I don’t know why my ancestors left the Orient and drifted to Europa. But I can vaguely understand the hardship of leaving one’s homeland to live in a distant, foreign land.

My parents were born and raised in Prussia, but they were not Prussians. They always said, “A Gypsy is a Gypsy, and can never become a Prussian.” For some reason, they seemed to long for a homeland they had never seen.

I don’t fully understand their feelings. Unlike them, I wanted to be a Prussian, not a Gypsy. I didn’t want to be a wandering Gypsy without a place to call home—I wanted to be a Prussian living in Prussia.

I was born and raised in Prussia, and to me, the Mughal Empire was a distant, foreign land I had never seen. But the people of Prussia treated me as a foreigner from a faraway land. They said I spoke the Gypsy language, ate Gypsy food, and lived within Gypsy culture.

Because my skin color was different, because I looked different—for those reasons alone, they treated me as a Gypsy, not a Prussian.

As a child, I couldn’t accept this. I wanted to cross that wall.

I left the caravan and came to the city when I was 14 years old.

With two changes of clothes, enough food for a few days, and three coins, I ran away from home.

In the early morning, while my parents were still asleep, I slipped out of the tent and headed for the nearest city along the road.

The first city I arrived in was Graitz. At the time, I didn’t know it, but Graitz was a small town southeast of Zeitlitz.

When I arrived in Graitz, the first thing I did was look for work.

Looking back now, I was incredibly lucky. For a young Gypsy girl with no guardian to find work in the city was nearly impossible.

And to find a job with decent working conditions and a place to stay out of the wind and rain was nothing short of a miracle.

The first place I worked was a small inn in Graitz. The first floor was a small restaurant, and the second floor had about five small rooms.

I took orders from customers and served food on the first floor. Sometimes the innkeeper taught me how to cook, and his wife taught me how to sew.

They had no children of their own, so they treated me like their own daughter. I, in turn, treated them like my parents.

It was a good time. Even if it was just a fleeting dream, it was a precious time for me.

Of course, dreams eventually end. My life at the inn didn’t last long.

It began with a small incident near the end of winter.

Bertha, the daughter of Father Johann Hesse, the priest of Graitz Cathedral, began to suffer from seizures and strange symptoms. The doctor treating her said her condition didn’t improve after a month and claimed it was the work of a witch.

The townspeople began searching for the witch hiding in their midst. And the first suspect was me, the Gypsy girl.

The townspeople accused me of being a witch and demanded I lift the curse on Bertha. But I had done nothing, so I had no way to undo her “curse.”

I tried to prove my innocence, but the townspeople didn’t believe the words of a Gypsy. Even the innkeeper and his wife, who were the only ones to defend me, were dragged before the townspeople as accomplices.

The townspeople’s frenzy grew, and I, powerless, could only plead my innocence.

Eventually, the townspeople began torturing me and the innkeeper’s family to force a confession. Overwhelmed by the unbearable pain, I finally gave in and made a false confession.

“I cast a spell on Bertha. But I don’t know how to undo it.”

The townspeople were enraged and demanded the witch be burned at the stake. I was dragged to the town square and tied to a wooden pole.

The firewood for the pyre was prepared, and a townsman with a torch approached.

Father Hesse began reading from the Bible, and the angry voices of the townspeople grew louder.

Ah, so this is how I die.

If I had known it would end like this, I wouldn’t have left the caravan. I should have listened to my parents and lived as a Gypsy. I regretted it, but it was too late.

I wanted to be a Prussian, but to them, I was a mysterious Gypsy witch who used dark magic.

As Father Hesse finished his reading, the execution began.

The torch approached the oil-soaked firewood, and the heat began to rise beneath my feet.

That’s when Fräulein Lieselotte appeared.

She arrived in a carriage with two guards. She stepped out of the carriage and walked through the crowd of townspeople to the pole where I was tied.

“Even in a fantasy world, witch hunts in the 20th century?…”

She sighed deeply as she looked at the frenzied townspeople. Then she dispersed the crowd and untied me.

Afterward, she summoned the town representative, Father Johann Hesse, and the doctor who had examined Bertha and declared:

“From this moment forward, any confession obtained through torture will be considered invalid in any trial. And without objective evidence, a confession will be treated as a false confession.”

Despite the townspeople’s protests, she was firm.

“If you understand, investigate again and bring me a report. Immediately.”

That was my first meeting with Fräulein Lieselotte.

Fräulein Lieselotte recently attended the Valenberg tea party. It was a small gathering of noble daughters from the eastern and southern noble families of Prussia, held at the Valenberg estate in Reading.

Fräulein Frederica Sophie of the Valenberg family has been close to Fräulein Lieselotte since childhood. Both are incredibly intelligent, far beyond what one would expect from 12-year-olds.

Of course, our Fräulein Lieselotte is the more brilliant of the two.

After the Valenberg tea party, Fräulein Lieselotte began to move more actively. Before, she had only given orders to her subordinates, saying it was preparation, but recently, she has been taking direct action.

I don’t know what she is preparing for. Even though I have served her for a long time, the depth of her capabilities is beyond my imagination.

There are subordinates I don’t know about and magical tools of unknown origin—even the shadows who have served the Aurich-Besermauer family for generations don’t seem to know everything about her.

The most astonishing thing is that she has established her own independent intelligence network.

Some powerful noble families operate secret intelligence organizations. The shadows of the Aurich-Besermauer family are a prime example.

But most families don’t have the resources to maintain such organizations and rely on newspapers or gossip.

For information that can’t be obtained through ordinary means, they sometimes pay street informants or wandering travelers.

However, Fräulein Lieselotte has already built a vast intelligence network spanning the entire empire at her young age. While not massive in scale, it gathers information from all corners of the empire.

Outwardly, it operates as a newspaper company, but it also includes spies known as “crows,” who gather information through somewhat illegal means.

If Fräulein Lieselotte orders it, they can even infiltrate the emperor’s bedroom to gather information. This is not something a mere noble daughter should be capable of.

Recently, Fräulein Lieselotte has united the criminals of Zeitlitz into a single organization. I don’t know her exact goal, but it seems she is using them to establish a new power base in the capital.

The shadows of the Aurich-Besermauer family are likely aware of her movements. But since the count has not intervened, it seems he sees no issue with her actions.

The count rarely interferes with Fräulein Lieselotte’s actions. This is not neglect but rather trust in her ability to handle most matters on her own.

And today, Fräulein Lieselotte asked me to book a train ticket to the capital. It seems her preparations are complete.

I don’t know what she plans to do in the capital. But I will simply follow her orders.

For the sake of the woman who saved my life and allowed me to live as a Prussian

Vrslop_translator