SOLIRF~05

Chapter 5

Company Dinner?

I need to find money. Fast.

After putting Julie and Rio back to sleep, I sat down and began to think. I didn’t just need fifty jenny for tomorrow’s dose—I needed 1,500 jenny for a full month’s worth of medicine. I still wasn’t exactly sure how much that amounted to in this world, but judging by the prices, it was probably several months’ wages for an average family.

First, when Marcel comes home, I’ll have to figure out exactly how this household manages its finances.

I wasn’t expecting any secret stash of savings, but if there were any leaks, I needed to plug them.

This isn’t my assistant-director film days all over again.

Back then, I worked for pocket change—terrible hours, no breaks, and more than once, I didn’t even get paid.

That was when I learned—if you can’t even afford to survive, passion dies with it.

The ones who endured that hell and made it all the way to becoming successful film directors—those people were truly extraordinary. Me? I quit the day I almost fainted on the bus from exhaustion.

No time to reminisce. Is there anything I can sell?

If I had any jewelry or valuables, that’d be first. But the house was bare, minimalistic not by choice, but by necessity.

Guess I’ll have to wring Marcel for answers.

Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror—a woman with long, dark hair that shone faintly brown under the light.

It’s… long enough to reach my hips. I heard nobles here use wigs as accessories, didn’t I?

I suddenly remembered a few wig shops I’d seen on my way to and from work.

Without hesitation, I grabbed my shawl and stepped outside, heading for the merchant district. But it was late, and most of the stores had already closed or were packing up. Some shopkeepers even turned me away, saying they didn’t need black hair. Apparently, my color wasn’t exactly fashionable in this world.

But I need that money tonight… if I want Rio to have his medicine tomorrow.

After wandering for what felt like hours, I finally spotted a shop still lit up. My last hope. I prayed under my breath as I approached.

There, taped to the door in hurried handwriting, was a sign:

[Urgently seeking black hair.]

My hands curled into fists.

Got it.

The shopkeeper’s face lit up the moment he saw me, and he all but dragged me inside. He paid a generous price for my hair—almost too generous.

Of course, I did make a few polite gestures toward leaving before he offered more.

He said it was rare to find such long, healthy black hair, and didn’t even try to bargain down.

Said he’d been worried I wouldn’t show up.

Apparently, some noble had made a special order, and the merchant looked positively delighted to have finally found it.

Whoever that noble was, they were my personal savior. Because for my hair, I received ten thousand jenny—the same price usually reserved for top-grade golden hair.

It was a small shop, yet he paid me in full, in cash. Maybe this fantasy world had its own kind of magic economy.

As I caught my reflection on the way out, I saw my hair was now cropped short around my neck. But my heart felt strangely light.

It was a pain to wash anyway. Whoever you are, dear noble—may fortune bless you.

***

However, not everyone shared my enthusiasm.

“Cornelia, did you… get dumped or something?”

“At least wear a wig! You can’t just go around with hair that short!”

“How are you supposed to get married like that?”

Apparently, this was the kind of world where cutting one’s hair was treated like a national tragedy. I ignored the outdated remarks flying at me from all sides.

I’m only twenty. Marriage? Please.

Even back in my mid-thirties, I wasn’t married. Twenty was way too young for that.

Though… I guess I’m technically an office worker now.

Still, I was satisfied with my new look and simply smiled in response, which made the gossipers quiet down—just a little.

As I tied on my apron and prepared to open the store, a shadow fell over me.

“Hey. You got a problem with me or something?”

It was my senior.

“What?”

She snorted, incredulous. “What, you think chopping off your hair would scare me?”

What kind of nonsense is this?

“So that’s how you want to play it, huh? I was gonna forgive you if you behaved, but now you’ve really done it. Just wait.”

She stormed off, and the girl next to me let out a snide laugh.

“You’re totally on her blacklist now.”

How do you even interpret a haircut as rebellion?

“It’s not like I shaved my head,” I muttered, but deep down, I knew she was right—I’d been marked again.

Because from that day on, the extra work never stopped.

And it was always just for me.

***

A month passed without a single day of leaving on time.

Still, I’d made a decision: I wouldn’t quit until I found something secure.

The work isn’t that hard anyway.

Copying, counting, sorting—it was all simple enough, and I finished faster than most.

If my senior knew, she’d lose her mind… but she’s already gone home, so whatever.

Aside from the constant overtime, my trainee period was almost over, and I was getting used to most of the tasks. Things could be worse.

Though yeah, I still hate going to work.

When my senior dumped another pile of papers on my desk that evening, I smiled politely while cursing her to hell inside my head. Then I waited for everyone else to leave.

***

And now~ today’s~ crappy overtime song~

I hummed nonsense lyrics under my breath as I flipped through some documents at a corner table upstairs.

Everyone should’ve gone home by now.

Don’t tell me that senior’s spying on me again?

If she caught me finishing too quickly, she’d pile on more. Goodbye, early leave.

With a sigh, I looked up—and blinked.

“Phinea? Nicola?”

Phinea looked annoyed. Nicola looked worried.

“So you can handle rude customers, but you’re scared of a senior?” Phinea said, arms crossed.

“Phinea, don’t say things you don’t mean,” Nicola muttered.

She ignored him.

“Don’t you get it? You didn’t even do anything wrong, and you’re just sitting here slaving away? Ugh, it’s pathetic!”

“Wait—are you talking to me?”

Phinea huffed, dragged a chair over, and sat right next to me.

“Tell me what you’re doing. We’ll help.”

“Me too!” Nicola said quickly. “Just tell us what to do, we’ll finish it fast and leave together.”

“I’m fine, really.”

And I meant it—it would only take me about an hour. But the two of them weren’t backing down.

“What, you think we’ll get in trouble for helping? The senior’s long gone. Come on, just give us the work.”

“I said it’s fine—”

“Now!”

“Okay, okay!”

I laughed a little despite myself and nodded. Working together would at least make it go faster.

And wow—both of them were good. Quick learners, efficient workers. We finished everything in just forty minutes—twenty minutes earlier than I’d expected, even though I deliberately slowed down to avoid suspicion.

Guess I owe them dinner at least.

Helping a coworker after hours—that kind of kindness was rare in any world. And now that I had money from selling my hair, I could afford to show some gratitude.

“Thanks for helping me. How about I buy you both a drink?”

“Sure,” Phinea said, feigning nonchalance.

“Nice! I know a great place,” Nicola said, practically bouncing.

***

This is… kinda surreal.

It felt like a scene straight out of a movie. Sitting around a wooden table, sipping beer from wooden mugs under the flicker of candlelight and low-grade magic stones instead of bulbs.

So magic really does exist here.

Not that ordinary people ever saw much of it—mages were rare and usually holed up in the Magic Tower, doing research or whatever. Not my kind of life.

“To our first trainee hangout! Cheers!” Nicola declared.

We clinked mugs and drank deep. The beer went down smooth, surprisingly good even by modern standards.

“Thanks again for earlier,” I said.

Nicola waved it off. “Don’t mention it. We should’ve helped sooner. Feels bad that we didn’t.”

He’s… apologizing?

Nicola needed to be protected like an endangered species. He was too pure for this world.

Phinea spoke up next.

“You were faster than I expected. And precise. The senior couldn’t even calculate that fast. You barely even wrote anything down—just did it in your head. And those reports you fill out? They’re cleaner than the branch manager’s.”

She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? Anyway, where’d you learn all that?”

Well…

Her tone was pure curiosity—no jealousy, no malice.

“My parents taught me to read when I was little. Numbers… I just liked them, I guess.”

A total lie, and I could feel my conscience sting. Math was my worst subject on college exams.

“Anyway, you better be careful,” Phinea said suddenly, raising her finger.

“Huh?”

“Your senior.”

“Oh.”

I was already being cautious.

But her expression grew darker.

“The work she’s making you do—it’s not trainee-level stuff. It’s not even regular employee work. Those are manager-level documents. I’ve seen them in the deputy manager’s office.”

“What? Seriously?” Nicola gasped.

Phinea slammed her mug down.

“That witch is reporting your work as her own!”

What?!