Following the address Ilana had given, Tulia led Lisbeth by the hand through several relatively quiet streets, finally stopping in front of a stone-built townhouse that looked rather aged.
Hanging on the door was a faded wooden sign, with the words “Household Affairs Agency (Specializing in Real Estate)” written in somewhat sloppy handwriting.
This name… really is casual.
Tulia stepped forward and knocked gently on the door.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
After waiting a moment, a slightly lazy, muffled voice sounded from inside.
“The door’s not locked. Come in yourself.”
Tulia raised an eyebrow.
A normal shopkeeper, upon hearing a customer at the door, should at least get up and open it.
But this guy didn’t even bother to move.
She pushed open the creaking wooden door. A mixture of old paper, dust, and a faint hint of tobacco rushed out to greet her.
The room was dimly lit. A middle-aged man, wearing a monocle and with rather messy hair, was sprawling comfortably across a wide rocking chair, a book cradled in his hands. He rocked gently back and forth to the rhythm of the chair, utterly at ease.
Upon hearing the door open, he merely lifted his eyelids above the edge of his book, glanced lazily at the mother and daughter, then let his gaze drift back down to the page.
“Looking to buy a house?” he asked without even raising his head, his voice hoarse, as if he’d just woken up.
“Yes.”
“Take a look yourself, all the information’s posted on the wall. If you find something you like, call me.” The man gestured with his chin toward the wall covered in sheets of parchment, then fell silent again, completely absorbed in his own world.
Tulia didn’t actually mind the man’s laid-back attitude. Compared to the snobby shop assistant at the dessert store earlier, at least this one… was real.
Such an easygoing, even indifferent shopkeeper actually made her feel more comfortable.
She walked over to the wall and began carefully browsing the sheets of parchment listing the houses. Location, area, price… every detail was clearly marked.
However, after looking through them all, her delicate brows gradually knitted together.
“Boss,” she turned around, her voice tinged with confusion, “None of these seem to be what I’m looking for.”
The rocking chair stopped swaying. The man finally set his book aside, adjusted his monocle, and sat up, his face full of disbelief.
“That’s impossible.” He declared flatly, his tone brimming with absolute confidence in his listings. “My houses cover seventy percent of Silverglow City’s mid-range market. Location, type, price—everything you could want. How could you not find something you like?”
“They’re too small.” Tulia’s answer was simple and direct.
“Small?” The man looked as if he’d just heard the most absurd joke. He sized up Tulia and the equally slender and tall Lisbeth behind her. “It’s just the two of you, mother and daughter—how big a house do you want? Planning to ride horses in the hallway?”
He stood up and walked over to a locked cabinet, mumbling to himself as he unlocked it, “I do have some larger mansions, but those are for the true aristocracy—those start at a thousand gold coins or more. Are you sure… you want to look?”
Tulia didn’t answer immediately.
She simply reached into her cloth pouch at a calm pace and took out the small slip of paper Ilana had given her, gently placing it on the counter.
“We were referred by Ilana from Weaver’s Whisper.”
The man had just retrieved a much thicker, more elegantly bound stack of property portfolios from the cabinet. The moment he heard “Ilana,” his hands froze in place.
In the next instant, all trace of laziness and nonchalance vanished from his face, replaced by a nearly feverish excitement!
“Ilana?! How is she?!”
He almost “lunged” over, taking just a few long strides to stand right in front of Tulia. Grabbing her shoulders with both hands, his gaze was filled with urgent, unrestrained concern, “How has she been lately? Has she been eating on time? How’s business at that little shop? Has she been bothered again by those arrogant nobles?!”
This sudden burst of enthusiasm caught Tulia off guard.
Before she could react, a tall figure stepped in front of her.
With an expressionless face, Lisbeth reached out and, with a gentle but irresistible hand, pressed firmly against the man’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer.
Pushed back by this soft yet steady force, the man finally realized his lapse.
He withdrew his hands awkwardly, stepping back twice, his face full of regret as he waved his hands repeatedly in apology, “Sorry, sorry! I got too excited and scared you two, I really apologize.”
He spread the portfolios out on the wide table. On them, intricate penwork depicted mansions and estates of all styles.
“This ‘Iris Estate’ comes with a small lake and a garden—very tranquil surroundings. And this ‘White Stone Mansion’ is located right on the city’s main axis, with a splendid view…”
As Tulia listened to his introduction, she flipped carefully through the portfolios.
She had to admit, these properties were in a different league from the ones on the wall earlier.
But she looked through them quickly, as if searching for a particular set of conditions.
“Boss,” after finishing the last page, she looked up, a hint of dissatisfaction in her expression, “These mansions are splendid, but none of them… are quite what I want.”
“Still not?” The man was truly shocked now. He pointed at the portfolios, “Madam, these are the best listings in all of Silverglow City. What exactly… are you looking for?”
“First, it must have a large enough indoor bathhouse with running water or a purification array.”
Tulia listed her first condition.
After her time at Sophia’s estate, forced to “enjoy” such luxuries, she had sadly realized she could no longer live without the comfort of relaxing at will.
“Bathhouse? That’s easy. Most mansions have them.”
“Secondly,” Tulia continued, revealing a request the man hadn’t anticipated, “I want the property to come with a street-facing shop. Ideally, the shop and residence should be connected, with an independent storefront but a backyard accessible from the living quarters.”
“A shop?” The man looked increasingly puzzled. “Madam, are you… planning to do business?”
“Why not?” Tulia countered, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Back in her previous life, owning a little shop of her own had always been the most distant dream of her soul as an office worker.
Now, with “start-up funds” in hand and in an entirely new world, that dream seemed… within reach.
Even if she had a huge sum now, money would run out one day.
There was a saying she believed in: financial independence, personal independence.
Without a steady source of income, Tulia felt uneasy.
“No, no, of course you can!” The man waved his hands hastily, a trace of admiration in his eyes. “It’s just… properties that fit both those criteria are extremely rare. You’d have to balance the privacy and peace of a residential district with the traffic and convenience of a commercial area… I’ll have to look carefully.”
He returned once again to the locked cabinet, this time pulling out a dusty wooden box from the very bottom. Opening it, he revealed just a few rolls of yellowed parchment blueprints.
“Got it.” He spread one out across the table, his face brightening with joy.
“‘Morning Dew Corner’. Located in the Rose District, east side of the city, it’s classic Baroque architecture—a tranquil haven in a bustling area. The backyard is spacious and has a small indoor bath fed by a natural underground spring. Most importantly, the front yard… was originally designed as the architect’s studio, with a wide, street-facing entrance and plenty of natural light! It was always rented out as a high-end art shop, but the last tenant just moved out. It’s practically tailor-made for you!”
“This is the one.” Tulia decided almost without hesitation; the house was a perfect fit for all her wishes.
“Madam, you have an excellent eye!” The man was delighted as well. “Because of its unique ‘live-work’ design, this property has always been in high demand. Since you’re Ilana’s friend, I’ll be flexible on price. Originally, it was 4,800 gold coins. For you, I’ll make it 4,500. What do you think?”
Tulia nodded, her expression calm, as if a thousand gold coins was a trivial sum.
“That’s fine. Tomorrow morning, send someone to Gingko Inn for the payment.”
The transaction was settled quickly. The man handed Tulia a key engraved with intricate magical sigils.
Before they left, he finally couldn’t hold back. With an almost pleading tone, he asked cautiously, “Madam… if… if you see Ilana again, could you… ask her for me, whether she still has that ‘Stardust Shawl’ I gave her?”
Looking at the mixture of hope and nervousness on his face, Tulia instantly understood.
She didn’t answer directly. Instead, she smiled and nodded, silently accepting the request.
When they stepped out of the Household Affairs Agency, it was already dusk.
“Mama,” Lisbeth, clutching the copy of Duke’s Daughter and Her Maid that she had “borrowed” from the bookshelf, suddenly asked, “Does that man like Aunt Ilana?”
Tulia looked at her in surprise.
It was the first time Lisbeth had shown such clear curiosity about the complex feelings between adults.
“Mm.” She thought for a moment, then decided to answer in a way her daughter would understand. “I suppose so. Just like… you like the fruit tarts at that shop, he likes Aunt Ilana.”
Lisbeth nodded, half-understanding, then lowered her head to look at the book in her hands, before raising it again.
In her deep blue eyes, a glimmer of thought flashed by.