understanding

Ms. Langsa's class exuded an air of relaxation that Esther found refreshing. Unlike her meticulous appearance and grooming, Ms. Langsa had a knack for weaving examples seamlessly into her lessons, drawing connections between the small moments in life and the broader strokes of history. Esther found it fascinating how Ms. Langsa effortlessly wove in tidbits about different customs and traditions from around the world, often punctuating her teachings with a sprinkle of humor to keep the atmosphere light.

After the morning class, Ms. Langsa took a moment to randomly check Esther's dictation, as they had agreed. To Ms. Langsa's surprise, Esther displayed a learning ability that belied her supposed beginner status.

"Have you truly never dabbled in writing before?" Ms. Langsa inquired.

Esther sheepishly scratched her head. "To be honest, it's all a bit fuzzy to me."

"Fuzzy?"

"Yeah, it's like one moment I'm on Iron Cross Street... Luckily, Grandma Wendy from Slim Bakery took me in, or I might have been left to fend for myself."

A furrow formed on Ms. Langsa's brow as she mulled over Esther's words. After a moment, she offered Esther a reassuring smile. "It's alright. If you ever need extra help, feel free to join my Sunday classes in the future. And if you find yourself facing difficulties, you can always reach out to me or Pastor Lost. We're more than willing to lend a hand to those in need."

"Thank you! Can I stick around and read during lunch?"

"Don't you need to grab a bite to eat?"

Esther hesitated. "I'm trying to save up some money, so eating out isn't really an option for me right now. I'll remember to bring some bread next time."

Ms. Langsa regarded Esther with warmth, her gaze lingering on the girl's youthful visage. "No need to worry about that. You can share my sandwich."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly..."

Ms. Langsa's smile turned mischievous. "Nonsense, as my grandfather used to say, it's an 'investment'. Esther, you're a talented young lady with a bright future ahead of you."

Esther chuckled, touched by Ms. Langsa's kindness. "Then I'll make sure to bring a snack for you next week."

"Deal."

Esther couldn't help but admire Ms. Langsa. Initially, she had been somewhat intimidated by her teacher, but Ms. Langsa's efforts to bridge the gap in communication had quickly put her at ease. And after sharing that simple sandwich with mayonnaise and cheese sausage, Esther found herself looking at Ms. Langsa with newfound fondness.

Though the taste couldn't compare to the rich flavors of her memories, it was the first time Esther had enjoyed such a delicious meal since arriving in this world.

It dawned on her that perhaps there was an opportunity here. She could experiment with recreating the foods from her memories and suggest them as new offerings at Grandma Wendy's bakery. Surely, they would attract more customers.

As Esther glanced up at Ms. Langsa, who had only shared half a sandwich with her, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude. This kind gesture had brought her a moment of pure joy.

Ms. Langsa, too, observed Esther with a soft smile. It was just a sandwich, but the way Esther savored it made her heart swell with warmth. She made a mental note to grab two more word books from the shelf and place them on Esther's desk.

"You can try these once you've finished eating."

"Absolutely!" Esther replied, enthusiasm bubbling in her voice.

Ms. Langsa couldn't help but feel a swell of affection. Esther was truly a remarkable young girl—lovable, bright, and eager to learn. Yet, amidst her admiration, Ms. Langsa couldn't shake off a niggling concern. She made a mental note to remind the local night watchman to keep an eye out for any unusual occurrences on Lower Iron Cross Street.

In the afternoon class, Ms. Langsa guided the students through a passage from the Holy Scriptures of the Night. Esther followed along effortlessly, her mind quickly grasping the meanings and grammatical nuances with each word explained by Ms. Langsa.

It felt like a puzzle to Esther—a thrilling challenge to decipher. With each revelation, she felt as though a new world of words was unfolding before her. Her remarkable aptitude for learning left her bemused; she couldn't help but marvel at her own capabilities.

Though Esther was certain she wasn't the kind of genius who could master a language in a day—otherwise, she would have aced her college entrance exams—she couldn't deny the exhilarating feeling of unlocking the secrets of a new language.

As the day's class drew to a close, Esther lingered in the classroom, her mind buzzing with newfound knowledge.

Finally gathering her courage, she approached Ms. Langsa as the teacher packed up her belongings.

"The history before Year Zero—is it what they refer to as the Fourth Age?"

The world indeed had a history that predates her arrival!

With a sense of clarity washing over her hazy intuition, Esther pressed on, "Are there other ages before the Fourth Age?"

Ms. Langsa paused, considering her response before nodding slowly. "Indeed, there are. However, much of that history remains shrouded in myth and legend, lacking conclusive evidence or a unified narrative. Given your current status, I'd advise against delving too deeply into such nebulous realms. It could prove to be a fruitless endeavor."

Esther's spirits dampened momentarily, but she quickly perked up. "Are there any books about the Fourth Age here?"

"The Fourth Age, while documented, remains a subject of debate and conjecture," Ms. Langsa explained. "Written records are scarce, with glimpses of that era visible in the architectural remnants scattered throughout our world. But within the confines of our humble classroom, such significant historical insights are not readily available."

Esther nodded, her mind racing with newfound understanding. The world she found herself in was far more intricate than she had imagined.

Impressed by Esther's curiosity, Ms. Langsa offered a gentle smile. "If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. It seems you're quite intrigued by these matters. Should you wish to explore further on your own, I can recommend a couple of history books. Once you feel comfortable reading them, you can borrow them from the library."

Grateful for the guidance, Esther jotted down the titles Ms. Langsa had mentioned before departing from the Church of the Night, her heart brimming with a sense of fulfillment.

Outside, the waning sun cast a golden hue over the dimly lit streets. As Esther's stomach grumbled, she realized she had neglected to eat amidst the excitement of acquiring knowledge—a sensation she had never experienced before.

Preferring to save her meager funds, Esther opted to traverse the streets on foot rather than hail a carriage. Lost in thought, she strolled along Iron Cross Street, the fading light of day casting elongated shadows across her path.

As the evening descended and hunger gnawed at her belly, Esther made a pit stop at a quaint stall nestled at the end of Iron Cross Street. With a handful of coins, she purchased a modest meal of clam soup and garlic breadsticks.

The soup, a simple concoction adorned with parsley, lacked the richness

 of flavor Esther had grown accustomed to. Yet, she savored every spoonful, relishing the change of pace. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the street, Esther found solace in the simplicity of her meal and the complexity of her thoughts.

Seated on a bench outside the stall, Esther indulged in her six-penny dinner, unaware of the curious glances cast in her direction. Though clad in nondescript attire, her demeanor exuded an aura of contentment that caught the attention of passersby.

One such passerby, emboldened by drink and fueled by ill intent, took it upon himself to intrude upon Esther's solitary reprieve.

"You know, this ain't no place for a nice girl like you. How 'bout we make a deal?" he leered, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Perplexed, Esther glanced around the unassuming establishment. What sort of deal could possibly transpire in such a humble eatery?

Her confusion turned to alarm as the man made a lewd gesture, his intentions unmistakable.

Esther met his gaze with steely resolve. "Your hand will be broken."

The man, interpreting her words as a brazen challenge, reached out to grasp Esther's neck. With lightning reflexes, she evaded his grasp, narrowly avoiding his clutches.

Before the man could react, a cacophony of shattering glass reverberated from within the stall. A kitchen knife hurtled through the air, severing the man's hand with surgical precision before embedding itself in the bench where Esther had been seated moments earlier.

Blood sprayed from the man's maimed wrist, staining the ground in a macabre tableau. Esther, unfazed by the gruesome spectacle, calmly finished her meal, placing the empty bowl on top of the blood-soaked bench.

With practiced nonchalance, she made her way to the counter, leaving behind the chaos unfolding behind her.

As she exited the stall, Esther carefully sidestepped the crimson puddles pooling on the ground. She couldn't afford to leave behind any trace that might implicate Wendy, her gracious benefactor.

A peculiar sensation stirred within Esther, prompting her to address the tiny insect nestled in her pocket. "That's his misfortune. What concern is it of mine?"

"Extraordinary power, you say? Perhaps it's merely a knack for survival," the insect retorted, its tone dripping with derision.

Esther bristled at the implication. "I may not understand it fully, but I refuse to believe I'm anything other than an ordinary person. Well, perhaps with a few quirks here and there."

The insect emitted a disdainful chitter, its scorn palpable.

Though tempted to engage in a battle of wits, Esther opted for silence, recognizing the futility of arguing with a mere bug.

As she ventured into the night, a newfound resolve blossomed within her. Whatever mysteries this world held, she was determined to uncover them, one enigma at a time.

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