Chapter 17 – Gray City

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Before heading to the auction venue, we first made our way to Charlottenburg.

We crossed the Pfüsgang Bridge over the Spree River and arrived at Carpentier Park, where Charlottenburg Palace stood.

After parking the carriage near the central fountain square and waiting for a moment, the person we had arranged to meet appeared.

“Liese, it’s good to see you. It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”

“It’s been about three months since the tea party.”

I responded to Frederica, who had boarded the carriage with Otto’s assistance.

Today, Frederica was dressed in a white dress to match my attire, wearing a black opera mask.

She seemed to have properly worn the Schachstein brooch I had sent her earlier to conceal her identity.

“It’s my first time at the underground auction house in Jungfernheide. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“That’s good to hear. It was quite a hassle to get multiple invitations.”

Frederica spoke with the expression of a girl who had just received a doll she had been wanting.

She seemed excited about her first underground auction.

“By the way, who is that? Could you introduce them?”

After exchanging greetings with me, Frederica turned her attention to the Schachstein member sitting beside me and asked.

A brown-haired female member wearing a knight’s brooch and a mask.

While the other members were seated outside or in separate carriages, she was the only one sitting inside the carriage with me, which piqued Frederica’s interest.

At Frederica’s question, I nodded and introduced the woman beside me.

“This is Felicita Bruska. She holds the rank of Springer.”

Felicita Bruska—she was the daughter of Luciano Bruska, the old fox of Zeitlitz.

As Luciano’s only daughter, she now served as a Schachstein officer under my command.

“Springer Felicita, at your service. Fräulein Valenberg.”

Felicita introduced herself with her rank, as I had done.

Upon hearing her introduction, Frederica paused for a moment, then spoke.

“You’re not from Prussia, are you? Are you from Laterano?”

Frederica asked Felicita this question.

Her name wasn’t Prussian, and her accent suggested she wasn’t a native either.

“Yes, I’m from Syracuse.”

“So you are from Laterano.”

Frederica smiled, pleased that her guess had been correct.

However, Felicita responded with a slightly dissatisfied tone.

“Well… yes, but I’m from Syracuse.”

“Huh?”

Frederica sounded confused by Felicita’s response.

She didn’t seem to understand the distinction.

Frederica, unsure of what she had done wrong, looked to me for help.

This reaction from Frederica was understandable.

The people of Laterano had a strong regional identity.

They often introduced themselves by their place of origin rather than their nationality.

While they had strong local pride, their sense of national identity was weak.

They were practically a multi-ethnic state, with little sense of belonging to a unified nation.

For Frederica, a pure-blooded Prussian, this way of thinking was unfamiliar and difficult to grasp.

“Fredie, she’s a citizen of the Kingdom of Laterano, but she’s from Syracuse.”

“I see…”

Frederica responded to my explanation.

She still didn’t seem to fully understand, but she accepted it as a cultural difference.

“Nice to meet you, Felicita.”

“Likewise, Fräulein Frederica.”

With introductions out of the way, the two exchanged pleasantries.

Though there was some awkwardness due to cultural differences, it wasn’t a big issue.

Felicita understood that Frederica’s reaction was due to cultural unfamiliarity, and Frederica didn’t comment on Felicita’s attitude.

“We’ll be arriving soon.”

While the two were introducing themselves, we had reached our destination.

At the coachman’s report, I pulled out an invitation from my pocket and handed it to Frederica.

“Ullrike of the Breslau baronial family. That’s your identity for today.”

“A pseudonym? How thrilling.”

Frederica replied as she accepted the invitation.

Attending an underground auction while hiding her identity—it was like something out of a story.

For Frederica, who was experiencing this for the first time, it was undoubtedly an exciting experience.

For me, it was something I had grown tired of, so her reaction was refreshing.

“Remember, never use your real name inside, pretend not to know anyone you recognize, and don’t touch anything the merchants offer without permission.”

I recited the precautions to Frederica before stepping out of the carriage.

The carriage had stopped in a slightly secluded area of Jungfernheide’s bustling district.

At first glance, it seemed like an unremarkable place with tall buildings, but as we entered the alley, suspicious-looking stalls lined the streets.

“Is this the black market?”

Frederica asked as she followed me into the alley, looking around.

Her voice sounded a little disappointed, as the scene didn’t match what she had imagined.

Of course, this was also part of the black market.

But the stalls here were run by third-rate vendors who couldn’t enter the real black market.

“Ullrike, no need to be disappointed. This is just the entrance.”

At my words, Frederica looked puzzled.

She glanced around but didn’t see anything noteworthy and tilted her head in confusion.

I smiled at her and then led the way toward our destination.

I headed deeper into the alley.

The vendors lining the streets called out to us, trying to lure us into looking at their wares, but I ignored them and quickened my pace.

Frederica, however, kept glancing at the displayed goods, clearly tempted.

But these were just junk—trinkets of no real value.

The truly valuable items weren’t displayed in these stalls.

“This is…”

When we arrived at our destination, Frederica murmured in surprise.

Before us stood an unremarkable, dilapidated building.

It looked old and worn, as if it might collapse at any moment.

The wooden door hanging on its hinges looked like it would break if you pushed it too hard.

It was so broken that you could see inside, and the wind blew right through it—it barely functioned as a door.

Beside the door sat a man dressed like a vagrant, his clothes tattered and worn.

He fit perfectly with the crumbling building.

As I approached, the man looked up at me.

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to buy Baron Barentz’s dagger.”

I responded to the man’s question.

At my answer, he glanced at our group and then spoke.

“Second basement, third room next.”

“Thanks. Here’s a tip.”

I handed him a 50-pfennig coin from my pocket and then opened the door to enter.

Frederica, who had been listening to the exchange, looked confused, not understanding what had just transpired.

The conversation I had with the man was a kind of code.

Baron Barentz was an old Prussian noble, and his family had a treasured dagger passed down as an heirloom.

One day, a thief broke into his home and stole the dagger—a simple story with no twists or turns.

Though it was a dull tale, it had become a code used in the underworld.

“The stolen dagger of Baron Barentz” was slang for stolen goods.

Of course, I wasn’t here today for stolen goods.

The code was simply a way to gain entry.

I could have explained this to Frederica, but it wasn’t safe to discuss codes in a place where anyone could be listening.

I followed the man’s instructions and descended the stairs.

The second basement had rooms lined up like a tenement building, each with a number on the door.

“Wait, isn’t it the next one?”

Frederica asked as I stopped before the fourth door, having passed the third.

The man had said “the third room next” which, taken literally, would mean the fourth room.

But in reality, it was slightly different.

I smiled at Frederica’s puzzled expression and then reached out my hand.

Not toward the fourth door, but toward the wall between the third and fourth doors.

“Huh…?!”

Frederica gasped as my hand passed through the wall.

“The third room next” referred to a hidden passage between the doors.

I stepped through the wall, and Frederica, after a moment’s hesitation, followed.

She closed her eyes tightly, as if afraid of hitting the wall, and then stepped through.

“Wow…”

Frederica exhaled in awe as she took in the scene inside.

The dimly lit basement, bathed in an eerie red glow, was filled with mysterious items.

Merchants and customers, their faces hidden behind masks and robes, haggled over goods.

It was exactly the kind of secretive black market Frederica had imagined.

“Now, let’s save the shopping for after the auction.”

I said to Frederica, who was gazing around with wide, sparkling eyes