Chapter 39 – The Conversation in the Carriage
In her previous life, Jade had once been addicted to mindless internet scrolling during her teenage years – much like people in 202X endlessly swiping through TikTok sort of short videos for fleeting dopamine hits. The only difference was that her gratification had required slightly more effort; she had to search for gossip herself instead of having it algorithmically delivered to her.
It had been the height of the Facebook era. Everyone she knew had an account. Meanwhile, Youtube was the only rapidly developing video platform, and it was flourishing. Her homepage was filled with prank video recommendations, much to the disapproval of older generations.
Though a series of unpleasant consequences had eventually jolted her awake, she still remembered the sensation of devouring scandals, gossip, conspiracies, and other utterly useless information. It had consumed her time, damaged her studies, and left her with nothing but a mind filled with trash.
Once she resolved to quit, she began to despise the very idea of indulging in rumours and voyeuristic glimpses into other people’s lives. She knew how easily she could fall back into it, especially when everyone was so eager to share bits of themselves online to gain views for financial benefits.
It felt like a curse. Or perhaps it was something women were naturally born with, something instinctive and difficult to uproot. According to some studies – yes, she had deliberately searched for them to clear her own doubts – gossip played an important role in ancient times because it allowed people to gain information that helped with their survival.
But time has changed. Modern humans do not need to retrieve information through gossip anymore, so she had firmly decided to stay away from it at all costs.
The withdrawal had not been easy.
She would begin with good intentions: Focus on today’s study, or baking tutorials.
Then a headline would catch her eye. [The famous actor cheated? A student expelled for pregnancy?]
No. Stop scrolling. A few seconds of self-loathing. A few seconds of mentally scolding herself. Then back to her initial intention of surfing the internet.
Over time, she had developed better discipline. Eventually, she managed a compromise: mostly knowledge, with a little awareness of social currents. Gossip, however distasteful, circulated useful information about preference and reputations; it served as a good topic during besties gathering. It was, in a way, social currency.
Even so, she disliked the temptation itself.
And now, she glared at the tabloid resting on her lap.
It was nothing but gossip, rumours, and scandal.
In her mind, she likely wouldn’t find anything useful or worth being alerted to within these lines.
She drew a slow breath, weighing the danger. Would she once again sink into that familiar spiral – chasing gossip and scandal she deemed worthless, yet being unable to stop, continuing to hype herself and eager for more?
The domus had been a relatively clean environment. Father Rochester subscribed only to a respectable newspaper that reports actual events. The farm ladies who donated old issues never contributed tabloids of this sort. This was the first time Jade had encountered a publication dedicated to amplifying speculation and embellishing private lives in this era.
She firmly believed in the principle that “you are what you eat”. Since her academic failure years ago, she had been careful about what she fed her mind. That included avoiding trendy Tiktok videos, even though she understood that some had educational purposes. She was fully aware that the temptation was too much for her; she simply couldn't risk it and hadn’t even dared install such an app on her smartphone back then. In her view, the majority of the content was engineered for rapid stimulation rather than reflection.
She recalled studies published shortly before her death suggesting that children were struggling to concentrate in classrooms; their brains had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of short-form digital content to the point that they no longer wanted to read a simple passage of words.
And now, here sat Mr. Rich Sponsor, apparently eager to offer her this world’s equivalent.
Jade narrowed her eyes at the newspaper.
No one in this world – except perhaps the Light that, according to the popular belief in this kingdom, illuminated all living beings – knew that Jade had just replayed the entirety of her previous life within a matter of seconds, all to decide whether she should dare open what she considered forbidden media.
“Miss Jade, is something preventing you from reading?” Ashborne asked when he noticed she remained perfectly still, the newspaper untouched upon her lap. It was unusual; he had rarely seen her so unresponsive.
Jade fabricated an answer with ease. “I am just wondering whether my faith in the Light is strong enough to shield me from the corruption of this likely useless pile of information.”
Her remark earned her three distinct reactions: Ashborne’s brow lifted slightly; Mr. Trent cast her a discreet, startled glance; and Josh looked downright bewildered.
“I did not realise you were so devout,” Ashborne said after a brief pause.
Josh nodded vigorously out of instinct, though confusion lingered in his eyes. He knew his Sensei respected the beliefs of others. But devotion to the Light, especially the Light of the Domus Lucis? That was new.
Jade rolled her eyes before inhaling slowly to fortify her resolve. With deliberate calm, she flipped open the newspaper.
It was precisely what she had expected.
Dramas between public figures – opera singers and ballet dancers in place of modern internet influencers. Wealthy men entangled with multiple kept women. A noble household on the brink of bankruptcy due to gambling debts. A baroness allegedly drugged into illness by a fortune-hunting husband. A dairy farmer suspecting witchcraft after his cows ceased producing milk. A famed courtesan rumoured to bathe in honey to preserve her complexion…
The Victorian-ish internet.
Ordinarily, she would have ignored such things and focused instead on substantive material such as embroidery techniques she once watched purely out of curiosity, and never imagining she would someday need to analyse stitch methods in earnest.
Okay, I can handle this level of trash, easy-piecey, Jade mused with a confident smile.
One detail amused her: the tabloid never named their aristocratic subjects outright. Instead, they employed coy pseudonyms – Lady A, Mr. B – while thoughtfully providing very specific hints that any reader with half a brain could deduce the identities.
She could not suppress her grin, caring little how odd she might appear to the others in the carriage.
Commoners, of course, were granted no such courtesy. Their surnames were printed plainly, their misfortunes laid bare. But the aristocratic guessing game was likely more entertaining anyway; people are always more interested in upper-class scandals than in the misfortunes of commoners.
Just as she prepared to turn the page, a small column caught her attention:
[Several cases of severe diarrhea reported in Greybrick Lane. Patients suffering from fever, headache, and abdominal pain. No evidence of food poisoning detected. Recurring incidents have led some residents to suspect the lane is cursed…]
Jade’s gaze fixed upon these few lines. It’s definitely not a curse, she thought immediately. Probably some infectious disease, but not an outbreak – it’s winter, germs and viruses spread more slowly… Airborne or waterborne? Probably waterborne; they’re likely sharing the same well or pump in that lane…
“Miss Jade,” Ashborne said quietly, observing her sudden seriousness, “has something troubling caught your eye?”
“Um… Yeah. You could call it trouble,” Jade replied.
For a fleeting second, the stressful memories of the COVID pandemic surfaced from her previous life. She wondered if the infectious disease mentioned in this tabloid would explode into a pandemic in this era, where healthcare was so unreliable. Of course, she wouldn’t put these thoughts into words; she wasn't even sure if people here would understand what she was trying to convey.
She thought for a moment and asked, “Lord Ashborne, do you have any acquaintance – anyone you are familiar with – who is specifically interested in researching germ–I mean, microorganisms? Like those who enjoy looking through microscopes at these tiny creatures?”
Ashborne lifted a brow. “I may know someone with such interests. My laboratory director would certainly be acquainted with a few scholars of that inclination. Why do you ask?”
“Well…” Jade angled the newspaper toward him and tapped the article. “If they are interested in those, they could examine the water supply here. I can’t guarantee they’d find anything, though, given that the lenses in the microscope you lent me aren’t clear enough for a proper observation. And if it isn’t water, then it could be air… Which is worse, because I have absolutely no clue how to observe or sample those tiny things in the air.”
Ashborne recalled her earlier debate with the doctor. “Miss Jade, I thought you rejected the miasma theory?”
“I reject the odour theory, not airborne disease,” Jade blurted.
Noticing the confusion on their faces, she continued, “The air is complex. It consists not only of the elements that keep us alive, but also of dust particles – solid substances so fine they can be swept up by the wind – and aromatic substances that produce scent. Indeed, a foul smell can cause nausea or vomiting, but the smell itself is not the disease… Um, I mean, even without smell, if a sick person coughs and sneezes inside a room, they contaminate the air. When others enter and breathe that air, the contaminated particles reach the air sacs in their lungs and infect them. D’you get what I mean?”
Ashborne did not respond immediately. Instead, he glanced at Mr. Trent.
Mr. Trent, catching his employer’s hint, inclined his head thoughtfully and provided his opinion. “It is… a fascinating proposition, Miss Jade. Theoretically conceivable, I suppose. However–”
“I don’t have any evidence to back me up, I know,” Jade cut in, rolling her eyes at herself. “For Light’s sake, I only decorate cakes! I can’t even be sure my explanation is entirely correct! Anyway, Ashborne, it’s just a suggestion. With or without me, someone will eventually discover this.”
She only hoped the discovery would happen sooner, so there would be fewer casualties from diseases that were easily avoidable.
Ashborne nodded slowly. “I shall consider our suggestion, Miss–hm. Perhaps I should simply call you Jade, if you do not object.”
She shrugged before replying, “I don’t mind… just not in public. I absolutely don’t want to become fodder for any scandal that catches the journalists’ attention.”
Jade rolled her eyes again and whispered “troublesome” to herself, then shot him a glaring look. “Also, please don’t repeat what happened with the cosmetic–I mean, perfumery trade incident. If there is any result from this kinda research, the impact will be huge. Policies, regulations, national funding allocations, new departments, and new positions. This is not something you can handle alone, Ashborne.”
“I’m aware, Jade,” Ashborne’s brows rose slightly. “You still appear to harbour a rather dramatic misconception about me.”
“Unless you can prove otherwise, yes, I will be keeping that in mind so I don’t have a heart attack when bizarre news about you reaches me.” Jade shrugged.
“Alright. Intellectual discussion that doesn’t fit my identity as a ragged school teacher: over.” Jade declared, folding the newspaper closed as she lost interest in reading. “I should be thinking about other projects that can keep the school running.”
Ashborne leaned back with a faint smile. “As you please, ambitious young schoolteacher.”