[AFYC] Chapter 9

“To the Felphe Bank,” Seo Ah had instructed, her voice firm despite the anxiety curling in her stomach. The coachman, a grizzled man with eyes that had seen more than he cared to admit, briefly looked her over in silence. His gaze lingered a moment longer than was polite as if trying to weigh her intentions, but whatever thoughts passed through his mind remained unspoken. With a slight shrug, he closed the carriage door with a firm click, sealing her inside the dimly lit compartment.

The streets outside were a chaotic whirl of activity, the kind of urban life that left no space for reflection. The carriage lurched forward, jostling her slightly, and Seo Ah allowed herself to sink back into the worn leather seat. She closed her eyes briefly, the noise and movement outside fading to a dull hum as the solitude of the carriage offered her a brief rest. She hadn’t realised how tightly wound she had been until that moment, the tension in her shoulders slowly unwinding with every second. The crowded streets had inadvertently saved her, pushing her into the carriage and leaving the suspicious individuals following her far behind.

Yet, no matter how much she tried to relax, one thought kept gnawing at her: the expense of the ride.

“I never imagined the carriage would cost more than the train,” she mused, a slight frown creasing her brow. The revelation had hit her like a splash of cold water. Since leaving her homeland, money had become a finite resource that required careful management. The weight of that reality pressed down on her now, the uncertainty of her situation sharpening her focus. Seo Ah began to mentally retrace her journey to Felphe Bank, meticulously reviewing every step as if it could somehow offer her a reprieve from the financial burden she now faced.

With each passing day, money had been tight from the start. Every expenditure had to be weighed, and every coin counted. As she reflected on her journey, Seo Ah couldn’t help but begin to calculate, her mind instinctively tallying the costs that had brought her to this moment. The boat fare, the train ticket, the carriage—each had taken a toll on her limited funds, a toll she hadn’t fully anticipated.

“How much do I have left?” she whispered to herself; her voice barely audible in the stillness of the carriage.

The inside of her coat was filled with numerous small pockets, each carefully sewn to conceal her possessions from prying eyes. Among them was a pouch where she kept her money, the meagre remnants of what she had once thought would be enough. Her fingers moved deftly, familiar with finding the right pocket without needing to see it. When she finally pulled out the small leather pouch and counted the remaining funds, her face turned pale.

All the money she had left amounted to only twelve thousand Kertes. The figure was disheartening. Although she hadn’t yet fully adapted to the strange civilisation of the Norfolk continent, she knew enough to realise that the little money she had wouldn’t last her even a week, let alone several days.

“What went wrong?” she wondered, her thoughts spiralling into a mixture of doubt and frustration. Had she been scammed during the currency exchange? The possibility gnawed at her, making her stomach churn. Or perhaps she had miscalculated the cost of the carriage, the train, or boat fare? Her mind raced through the possibilities, but no clear answer emerged.

The unfamiliarity of the Norfolk continent added another layer of anxiety. Everything here was different—people, customs, even the way money worked. It was like navigating a maze with no map; each wrong turn cost her more than she could afford. Despite her best efforts to understand this new world, it felt like she was always one step behind, making mistakes she didn’t know how to avoid.

At least there was some comfort in that she had reached her first destination, the Felphe Bank, without incident. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief, though it did little to ease the knot of tension in her chest. But before she could fully gather her thoughts, she sensed someone approaching.

Seo Ah quickly straightened her posture, her back stiff against the seat as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, her heart pounding faster as the door creaked open and the employee stepped inside. The brief peace she had found was shattered, her anxiety returning in full force. She couldn’t meet his gaze, her eyes instinctively dropping to the floor as if the polished wood could somehow offer her an escape.

“Thank you for your patience,” the employee said, his voice smooth and practised, laced with the kind of polite, almost friendly tone that came with years of dealing with customers. He sat across from her, the fabric of his uniform barely making a sound against the chair. Seo Ah could see his lips curved into a professional smile in her peripheral vision, but she dared not look directly at him.

“After verifying the key,” he continued, “I can confirm it is genuine. I apologise for any shortcomings in my earlier service. I hope you can forgive any inconvenience.”

Relief washed over her like a cool breeze on a stifling day. The tightness in her chest eased for a moment, and she managed to find her voice. “Yes, I understand,” she replied, her words soft, almost inaudible.

But then silence stretched just a little too long. Seo Ah hesitated, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. The employee’s reaction wasn’t what she had expected, but she couldn’t understand why. Uncertain of what had gone wrong, she remained silent. Silence, after all, was often a safe response when you didn’t know what else to say.

The employee, perhaps sensing her discomfort, quickly moved on to the main issue. “We will need to go through a few verification steps,” he said, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “Are you the original owner who opened this vault?”

Looking at the corner of the document on the table, Seo Ah tried her best to maintain a calm expression as she answered, “No.”

The corners of the employee’s lips twitched downward briefly, the slightest hint of displeasure before his face returned to a neutral position. “I see. Generally, the right to access a vault belongs only to the person who opened it. However, this particular vault has been unclaimed for over twenty years. In such cases, the ownership of the keyholder is recognised if they have had possession of the key for more than 210 days. However, if you are not the original owner, the process is more complicated and will take some time. I hope you can understand.”

“I understand,” Seo Ah replied, her voice steady despite the unease that had taken hold of her once more.

The employee tilted his head slightly as if considering her response, then shrugged. “Well… alright, thank you.”

Silence followed a quiet interlude where neither knew what to say next. Finally, Seo Ah broke the stillness. “Oh, and will I be able to receive the verification certificate for the keyholder today?”

The employee paused, studying her with a gaze that was slightly more probing than before. “You seem to know quite a bit about the procedure for accessing the vault.”

“Is that classified information?” Seo Ah asked, her voice betraying a hint of caution.

“Of course not,” the employee replied smoothly, though his eyes narrowed just a fraction. He pushed a familiar black tray toward Seo Ah, the same kind used in countless formal transactions. “We will need an official document to verify your identity. Did you bring it with you?”

Seo Ah began searching through her coat, her fingers darting from pocket to pocket as if she had been waiting for this moment. The longer she rummaged, the more the employee’s professional smile faded, replaced by a look of mild astonishment. He couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer number of pockets, each yielding nothing more than a few coins or scraps of paper. Beads of sweat formed on her face as she searched, her determination palpable.

The employee found himself growing more amused with each passing second. He almost felt he could bet all his money that the woman before him used the worn coat as a massive wallet, storing her entire life in its hidden compartments.

Finally, her face brightened slightly, and she pulled something out from her coat. At first glance, it appeared to be a handkerchief, but upon closer inspection, it was clear that this was no ordinary cloth. It was unexpectedly high-quality, the fabric gleaming with a sheen that seemed out of place, given that it had been hidden inside such a shabby coat.

She carefully placed it on the tray, and the employee retrieved it. Though it looked like a handkerchief, the object felt warm and solid in his hands. He turned it over, examining it with a frown.

Strange, he thought. Why would she carry something like that?