On June 29, 1914, at the Aries House.
As usual, we all go down to the dining room for breakfast at exactly 6 o'clock. When owners like us wake up, the servants have already been up and about for some time, having finished preparing everything. The coal in the stove has been replaced, the glassware, ceramics, and silverware have been polished. Clothes have been ironed and hung up, waiting for us to wake up and change into them. As I descend the staircase, I can already hear Mrs. Patmore shouting at the new kitchen maids for their clumsiness. The steward Franco is busy adjusting the minute hands of the clocks that are slightly off, so that no one will notice. The head housemaid, Mary, greets me as she and two other maids, Andrea and Lyreen, replace the bed linens in each room. The head valet, Bates, takes care of setting up the breakfast table for us. Everything seems to work like clockwork. The tasks are predetermined and are carried out no matter what happens.
We sit down at the table, and a typical English breakfast is served: boiled eggs, two slices of brown bread with butter and mashed potatoes, a few slices of smoked meat, and plenty of Earl Grey tea. We begin a new day with nothing new. It's as dull and colourless as all the days before. No one speaks to each other unless there is something of great importance. Today, my mother-in-law is having her breakfast in her room, so only the three of us and my father-in-law are at the table. I sit opposite the Morten brothers, and we quietly have our meal. Our relationship remains normal. Although my husband and I now share a room, most of the resentment has dissipated, and we still take care of Francine together, the affection is definitely gone. My husband and his secretary, Francine, still have a relationship, but at least they have learned to be discreet, and that no longer bothers me. Baby Francine is now my top priority. I don't care how many other women my husband has affairs with, as long as he becomes a good father, that's enough for me. Similarly, I only need to fulfil my duty as the eldest daughter-in-law of the Morten family and be a good mother, then that task is also completed!
Regarding Andermis, I cannot see into his inner self. Andermis actively helps me understand the Law, and sometimes I feel his closeness, although somewhat distant. Although there is no chance to approach him, I still want to find a sign from him. I want to know whether I am still part of his thoughts, or have become invisible forever. Last Christmas, he gave me an answer, but it seems that I am still blindly seeking something else. What is happening to me? Am I ready to make the same old mistake again?
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The old butler Franco brings us the freshly printed newspaper. The men in the house will read newspapers like The Times and The Guardian, while I am more interested in The Insight because it is where my sister Thena works. Not long ago, Thena officially became the editor-in-chief of that newspaper, which made me extremely proud. Finally, my younger sister has achieved what she has always wished for, and somehow, it has given me more motivation and hope. I still don't know what I will use all that hope for, but I guess I will have to use it soon.
The faces of the three men in the house suddenly turn pale when they read the newspaper. Although it is not clear what is happening, when my father-in-law and Augustin exchange glances, I guess it must be a very serious matter and may have a big impact on my family's work. My father-in-law immediately leaves the dining table, rushes to the office, and my husband follows him closely. Only Andermis and I are left, and his attitude is not any better. At this point, I become anxious because what causes everyone to panic is not just related to work, but it is surely spreading wider. I try to remain calm and ask, "Andermis, what's going on?"
Sitting here, I can hear the faint thumping of Andermis' heart in his chest. He hands me The Guardian without saying a word. In that moment, he simply stands up and walks over to the window. He looks outside, hands in his pockets and worry still lingering. I look at the newspaper, holding my breath as I search for that dreadful news. My eyes widen in disbelief as I read it. As if a goddess of death, the fear within me suddenly rises. Once again, what I cherish is on the brink of slipping away. I am not ready for this!
The title's words with their familiar ink scent are clearly legible. Like the daylight, they fill both of my eyes: "The Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand: Are we at war now?"