Surviving as a Terminally Ill Heiress - Chapter 13

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 13

I wasn’t going to look at dinner tonight, not if I could help it.
I dragged my heavy body out of the kitchen in a shuffling daze.
I’d only climbed a few steps before I was gasping for breath—had my body really deteriorated this much?
The fist-sized Madeleine I’d stuffed in at the last moment had lodged right in my solar plexus.
I eventually gave up and collapsed on the stairs, wheezing.
A maid I hadn’t yet been introduced to hurried past, not noticing my crouched form.
She vanished through a small door tucked in the corner.
Somewhere Maya hadn’t shown me yet. Judging by its position, probably an underground storage room.
But not long after, that same door opened again, and a different servant emerged.
As if they were changing shifts.
Why? What could possibly be down there?
Usually the basement of a manor was nothing more than a wine cellar.
And if it was anything unusual, well, there were enough ghost stories warning people not to ask.
‘Could Ambrose be involved in this?’
The household itself certainly wasn’t ordinary.
My eyes narrowed instinctively.
Was some enormous treasure hidden down there, or some terrible secret?
Either way, I couldn’t just ignore it.
I checked that the corridor was empty and moved as quickly as I dared.
As I crept down the stairs and made my way to the underground door, fragments of chocolate and marshmallow threatened to come back up more than once, but I swallowed them down.
When I carefully pulled the handle, sure enough, another set of stairs appeared, leading downward.
‘Hmm, it’s brighter and cleaner than I expected.’
I’d imagined something dank and foul.
After one last glance around, I began creeping down the steps.
With each step deeper into the basement, various sounds grew clearer.
Low murmuring voices. The cheerful clatter of typewriters.
Click, clack-click.
And underneath it all, a steady ticking sound repeated over and over.
‘I know this sound from somewhere……’
I was wracking my brain trying to place it when I reached the bottom of the stairs.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head.
No, that couldn’t be……
‘A Telegraph Machine!’
My mouth fell open.
A telegraph machine in a private home? Well, technically a magical telegraph apparatus.
But those massive, intricate machines that you only saw at the Post Office—there were five of them lined up in a row.
Ah, right. That ticking sound. I’d heard it every time I’d run errands to the Post Office.
The sight of people moving busily between the telegraph machines and typewriters, their hands flying—that was exactly what I’d seen at the Post Office countless times.
If you’d just swap these maids’ uniforms for Post Office attire, there’d be no difference at all.
‘So these maids actually know how to decode telegraph signals?’
That was rare. Extraordinarily rare. No other noble house would dream of it.
Generally speaking, the more stupid a maid was, the more convenient.
They were barely distinguishable from self-operating cleaning implements.
But these maids before me were alive and alert, hopping about like rabbits with genuine vigor.
I felt as though I’d accidentally opened a door to some other world, so I stood on the landing for a long time, just watching.
“Did you come to send a telegram?”
I jumped.
I spun around at the sudden voice.
It was a face I’d grown quite familiar with by now.
Naomi Thurman. Ambrose’s adjutant.
Her cool gaze swept across my face and torso before fixing itself on my distended belly.
Feeling inexplicably embarrassed, I stammered out an excuse.
“Ah, well, the kitchen staff—I’m not sure if his temperament is good or bad, but—he did this to me……”
“So Walter has found his joy in life, following the Duke’s example.”
So that man’s name is Walter. I’ll remember that.
Meanwhile, the maids finally noticed me and looked startled.
“Oh! Miss? Is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing. I just ended up here by accident. Don’t worry about me—keep working.”
I waved my hands frantically. I didn’t want to be in their way.
Even as I spoke, the telegraph machine continued its relentless ticking.
Eventually, the maids returned to their work, though they kept glancing at me.
Naomi moved past me toward the back.
“The urgent matter first.”
“The Silvia Guild encountered bandits in the Koran Mountain Range. The Vice Guild Master and three others are wounded and have been rushed to a medical facility in nearby Count David’s territory.”
“Tell them to forget about the transaction and focus on treatment. Send a separate message to Count David’s household expressing our gratitude and asking them to see to their care.”
“We’ve received multiple reports that the rebel forces in Ilosha are purchasing weapons. A civil war seems imminent.”
“Alert all guild members stationed in Ilosha. They’re to withdraw immediately without getting entangled. And that inquiry about Harry Molton’s whereabouts?”
“Here, sir. He’s currently staying at the Ilosha Palace Annex with his family. The Karen Guild, who happened to be visiting the capital, confirmed it directly.”
“Then send a postscript to the Karen Guild—they’re to ensure Harry Molton and his family evacuate safely. What news from the Barnet Auction House?”
“It sold!”
“And the Grand Duchess Matena’s commissioned item—it arrived on schedule?”
“Yes, the Post Office in the Grand Duchy confirmed its safe arrival. It’s supposed to go straight to the palace.”
“Naomi! We’ve found debris from the Hessen, reported missing near the Northern Sea……!”
News poured in like a deluge—from across the entire Atera Empire and even from distant foreign borders.
They’re all extraordinary. I was overwhelmed just listening to fragments of it.
The maids seemed almost like trained soldiers, producing typed documents and answering Naomi’s questions with fluid precision.
When urgent messages arrived, they exchanged information with Naomi in real time.
Was it surprising? Perhaps it was closer to awe.
I had never seen maids like these in my life.
Come to think of it, they were all new faces to me. I’d never required their personal service before.
The badges pinned to their chests were green.
‘What does green mean, anyway?’
Yellow for recruits. Blue for veterans. Red for supervisors.
Green felt oddly suspended, neither one thing nor the other.
This house was truly impossible to pin down.
I let out a small, bewildered laugh.
I’d thought it was just a gaudy rich household throwing money around, then it gave my allowance and took it back, and despite that frugality it insisted on feeding guests lavishly—and now the maids were sending telegrams.
Even if I’d anticipated a life I didn’t understand, I’d never expected it would be like this.
For now, I should just stay out of the way. I shouldn’t get in the way.
I turned quietly and climbed up one step when—
“Aren’t you sending a telegram?”
What, does this woman have eyes in the back of her head?
I turned around in surprise, but Naomi, who’d addressed me, was still staring at the documents.
Telegrams were probably expensive—more expensive than letters, usually.
As if she’d read my mind, Naomi continued.
“For personal use, it’s one Bel per character.”
Well, that explained it.
I shook my head ruefully.
“With my financial situation, I couldn’t even send eight characters.”
Not that it mattered. I needed to write proper thank-you letters to four people besides Ambrose, with flowery courtesies and all, and I didn’t even have invitations written yet.
Damn it. The headache I’d forgotten about seemed to be creeping back.
“Are you going to see the Duke now?”
“Um… no?”
Why in hell would I need to see that old man right now?
Especially after that letter had reduced my entire fortune to 7 Bels and 56 Harks—a ten-year-old wasn’t in the mood to face his expression.
‘Has he already left work?’
Well, if Naomi was here, then he was home.
That was unusually early. He normally didn’t arrive until just before dinner.
Naomi flipped through the documents and spoke in a casual tone.
“You should go see him.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have ignored that completely.
But something told me I shouldn’t brush this off.
This Naomi Thurman didn’t seem the type to waste time and effort on nonsense for a ten-year-old.
Was this what they meant by the credibility of a narrator?
I asked with a hint of reluctance.
“…… Why?”
“The Duke has been wanting to come home early these days.”
Right, okay. But what does that have to do with me?
Still struggling to follow the conversation, I watched as Naomi finally glanced at me.
With a faint smile playing at her lips.
“If your allowance is insufficient, you’ll have to earn more.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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