In the art room, Dorothy held a stone cube in her hands, feeling a hint of doubt. Back in her previous life, she had studied a bit of art, and as far as she knew, still life sketches typically used plaster models. She had never seen them use stone before.
After placing the stone cube back on the low table, Dorothy took advantage of the teacher rearranging the still-life objects to walk over to the cabinets along the edge of the room. On top of one cabinet sat lifelike plaster busts. She reached out and touched one.
"This bust is also stone… It just has a layer of white powder to make it look like plaster. Is this school really that extravagant? Using stone sculptures for still life sketches… and so many of them…"
She looked at the rows of vividly lifelike stone busts arranged on the cabinet, feeling increasingly perplexed.
Plaster busts and stone sculptures were entirely different. Plaster busts were made by creating a mold, pouring plaster into it, and letting it harden. As long as the mold existed, they could be mass-produced at a very low cost.
Stone sculptures, on the other hand, required a single block of stone to be painstakingly carved by hand. The ti and effort needed far exceeded that of making plaster busts. For this reason, art classes usually used plaster busts for sketching geotric shapes or human heads. A ticulously carved stone sculpture was more suited for display in a public square as a landmark.
But this school was extraordinary. Not only did they use stone sculptures as still life models for students, but there were so many of them. Moreover, the craftsmanship of these busts was remarkable. Each one was unique, exquisitely detailed, and clearly the work of a master sculptor.
As she pondered this, Dorothy recalled that many other parts of the school also seed to have nurous stone sculptures on display. Could it be that the school employed a master sculptor?
With this doubt lingering in her mind, Dorothy finished her drawing and decided to find soone to ask after class. She already had soone in mind.
…
At midday, the blazing sun scorched the campus. In a corridor sowhere on school grounds, an elderly janitor was carefully polishing a stone bust standing by the roadside.
The janitor’s expression was serious, and he cleaned with ticulous attention to detail, leaving no spot untouched—from the ears to the area under the nose, the arch of the brows, inside the collar, and even beneath the eyelids. The sculpture glead spotlessly under his care.
As the janitor worked diligently, a voice ca from beside him.
"Mr. Dean, may I ask you sothing?"
Startled, the janitor turned and saw a white-haired girl in a black school uniform standing nearby with a polite smile. His face showed a hint of confusion.
"Excuse , young lady, but you are…?"
"Dorothy Mayschoss. Don’t you rember? We t not long ago, on my first day of school," Dorothy said with a smile. The janitor, nad Dean, nodded in recognition.
"Oh, I rember now. I must thank you and your brother for your help back then. So, what can I do for you, Miss Mayschoss?" Dean asked with a slight smile, his voice showing his age.
"Well, Mr. Dean, I’ve noticed that the school has many exquisite sculptures, especially in the art room. There are so many there, but other places don’t have nearly as many. Do you know where they all co from?" Dorothy asked curiously.
She had already inquired about his na and knew he had worked at the school for many years.
"Haha… Interested in those sculptures, are you? No wonder. Most places where art is taught don’t have such fine still-life models. These aren’t cheap plaster casts. Every piece is exquisitely crafted and lifelike. Any shopkeeper would treat them as their most prized possessions."
Dean smiled as he spoke, then continued, "These sculptures were all made by the school principal, Mr. Aldrich. He’s a renowned master in the field of sculpture. He enjoys placing his works around the school to create an artistic atmosphere and provide students with excellent models for practice. He hopes that one day, this school will produce even more great artists."
"The school principal… Aldrich?"
Dorothy’s expression turned thoughtful as she listened to the smiling janitor.
…
In the afternoon, the religion teacher, an elderly man with graying temples and glasses, stood passionately reciting the doctrines of the Radiance Church from the podium. The students below prayed while taking notes.
At the back of the classroom, near the window, Dorothy rested her head on her hand, gazing out the window in boredom.
She could see Mr. Dean in the garden below, energetically pruning plants with a large pair of shears. His gardening skills were ticulous, creating a clean and aesthetically pleasing landscape.
"I should confirm it… I’m bored anyway," Dorothy thought to herself.
She glanced at the religion teacher, then quietly took a box from her shoulder bag. Opening it, she put on the Corpse Marionette Ring inside.
From her pocket erged a large gecko. With the ring, Dorothy controlled the gecko, sending it stealthily crawling out of the classroom and into the campus.
…
As the sun set, the day quickly ca to an end.
At dusk, when St. Amanda’s School dismissed for the day, Dorothy was finally free to go ho after enduring the day’s classes.
However, the school was not a day school but a fully boarding institution. Dorothy could leave because she was a girl.
In this era, educational discrimination was rampant, not just based on social class but also on gender.
Before the Industrial Revolution, won had almost no access to education. Noblewon at best hired private tutors. Schools like St. Amanda’s grammar schools and universities were exclusively male.
After the Industrial Revolution, won’s status improved slightly, and so schools began admitting female students. Girls from noble or bourgeois families, and those like Dorothy with the ans, could attend middle schools.
Still, this was far from common. Many schools continued to uphold male-only traditions. St. Amanda’s was a pioneer in becoming coeducational, but compromises were made—such as keeping the ratio of female students low and not allowing them to board.
The inability to board put female students at a disadvantage, as they missed out on evening classes, widening the achievent gap with male students.
For Dorothy, however, this was a relief. She was glad to skip so of the strange courses. While she didn’t mind subjects like math, logic, art, or grammar, she had no patience for religion or etiquette classes unless they offered spiritual benefits.
As usual, Dorothy and her fellow ladies walked to the school gate in the glow of the setting sun. Nurous carriages were already waiting there.
Wealthier girls had private carriages, while Dorothy relied on hiring a cab. Free carriage drivers often gathered outside the school at this ti, so Dorothy usually didn’t have trouble finding a ride.
But today was different. As Dorothy approached the usual spot, she saw no cabs waiting.
"Strange… There are usually several parked here," she thought.
At that mont, she heard the sound of hooves. Turning, she saw a carriage approaching. The driver stopped it right in front of her.
"Miss, do you need a ride?" the driver asked with a smile.
Dorothy hesitated.
I was just looking for a ride, and now one appears? That’s… convenient. Almost too convenient. He seems to have approached right after seeing leave, she thought.
"Let think about it…" she said, feigning indecision.
Secretly, she activated her Corpse Marionette Ring. The gecko in her pocket peeked out, scanning the surroundings, especially her blind spots.
Then, she noticed two n in trench coats and hats behind her, pretending to read newspapers while casting glances her way.
"It seems… I’m being watched," Dorothy thought, inhaling deeply.
Determined, she turned to the driver.
"Alright, take to Southern Sunflower Street."
"Of course, Miss. Please step in," the driver replied politely.
Dorothy approached the carriage but intentionally stumbled, falling to the ground.
"Ouch!"
"Are you alright, Miss?" the driver exclaid, rushing to help her up.
As he did, Dorothy glanced at his waist—where a gun holster hung.
‘A gun…’
"Thank you," she said, allowing him to help her into the carriage.
The driver then set off.
Behind her, the two n exchanged glances and disappeared around a corner. Monts later, two carriages erged and followed Dorothy’s.
From the dirt road, a gecko watched the three carriages disappear before scurrying back toward the school.
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