Before I Lose My Head

chapter-4

I wandered through the streets, my stomach growling so loudly that any nearby guards might've mistaken it for a signal from some hired assassin. I started drifting aimlessly through the maze of streets, clutching my stomach and bitterly judging every wealthy passerby carrying a fresh meat skewer or a piece of pastry. Share the wealth, you snobs, I thought bitterly.

As I turned into a dim, shaded alley, a colorful piece of paper nailed to a wooden post caught my eye.

I leaned in a little, squinting to make out the elegant, bold handwriting. It was a job posting. But not just any job: "Wanted: girls with special qualities—exceptional charm, unique looks, and sharp wit—for exclusive hostess positions at the Velvet Moon club.

"The Velvet Moon. I didn't need to be a genius to know what that meant. It was the capital's most famous upscale nightclub.

"Ugh, absolutely not,"

I muttered, wrinkling my nose in pure disgust.

"Nightclub hostess? Me? I'm the future royal partner of the prince, not entertainment for a bunch of disgusting VIP nobles."

I turned away, taking three steps filled with pride. But at that exact moment, my stomach roared again, painfully reminding me that my current net worth was exactly zero.

I froze in place, stared up at the sky, and let out a groan of defeat

"fine... survival first, dignity later."

I marched back to the post in wide strides, ripped the flyer down forcefully, then shoved it angrily deep into my apron pocket.

"It's just a backup plan,"

I told myself, straightening my dirt-stained dress.

"If I'm going to claw my way to the top through scheming and manipulation, I might as well start from the capital's darkest depths. Besides, the work uniform there is definitely going to be cleaner than this hay nightmare."

I looked up at the sky.

"First, I'm going to try to get an honest job."

For the next four hours, I dragged my miserable, hay-covered self from place to place. I tried everything. Every establishment that looked like it might need basic manual labor, I walked into. And every single one threw me out without mercy.

First, I tried a bakery that smelled so divine I nearly fainted right on the doormat.

"I can bake, clean, and manage your entire inventory!"

I told the plump baker, giving him my most polite, desperate smile.

He didn't even look at my face. He just stared at my torn dress, wrinkled his nose, and waved me off.

"Get out of here, you little rat! I don't hire beggars who look like they just rolled out of a horse stable!"

"This is classic organic fashion, you ignorant bread-maker!"

I shouted back as he slammed the door shut.

After that, I swallowed my disgust and tried three different taverns. I thought to myself: come on, I've got work experience from that old hag back in the village, and from my past life — this should be a piece of cake. But the tavern owners in the capital were so much worse. One looked at my sharp eyes and said I seemed "untrustworthy." Another said I was too filthy to serve customers. And a third literally laughed in my face before I could even finish my sentence.

By the time the sun started setting, casting long, mocking shadows across the cobblestones, my feet were bleeding, my stomach was practically eating itself, and my rage had hit an all-time high.

I leaned against a cold stone wall, slowly pulling the crumpled, colorful flyer out of my apron pocket. I stared at the words 'Velvet Moon' written in that elegant script.

"I tried to be a good girl,"

I whispered, my voice dripping with dark, defeated sarcasm.

"I really did. I tried the honest, hardworking peasant route, and look where that got me. Starving in a filthy alley."

I smoothed out the paper, looking over the job description again.

"Fine... I have no choice but to work at some fancy nightclub to survive, so I'm going to be the most expensive, most manipulative hostess those nobles have ever known."

To be continued...