Behind the church was a mortuary. Since most bodies were handled at hospitals these days, it had been abandoned for years—perfect for hiding someone.

  Fabian and the nun helped the wounded man into the mortuary. Upon learning that the others had gone to the countryside and only one nun remained, Fabian decided to stay and help care for the injured.

  "People always have moments of passion, especially the young."

  Vivienne understood quickly. She not only praised the young man but also left some money with Fabian for necessary expenses.

  The driver, Silas, had also learned of the riot from the car radio. Seeing them moving the wounded man toward the back door through the window, he circled the car to the next street and parked right at the mortuary entrance to wait.

  It had to be said, the men Vivienne chose were extremely loyal and sharp.

  A woman who detests men often knows best which men are worth trusting and which are worth hating.

  Silas started driving toward the suburban villa district, but Vivienne wasn't pleased: "Silas, turn around. I’ve already made an appointment to meet Gustavo at The Crystal Palace tonight."

  Silas had followed Vivienne for three years; he was one of the few who could voice an objection: "Madame, that area isn't safe right now!"

  "No, I can't break the appointment! Besides, doesn't The Crystal Palace have a secret basement? I'll be fine. Drop me off at the Ladies' Club first; it’s definitely safe there."

  "Fine, understood."

  The Ladies' Club was right next to the First Military District. Initially, it was just private gatherings for officers' wives. During times of national turmoil, officers found it improper to form small cliques to exchange info, so the Ladies' Club became the venue for trading intelligence.

  But Vivienne knew the Ladies' Club now existed in name only.

  As the country stabilized, the factions had mostly been settled. The club had turned into a place for noble ladies to trade gossip.

  Thus, she only attended occasionally.

  The most important rule of the Ladies' Club was that no male companions were allowed. If anyone showed up with a non-marital partner like Fabian, they’d be drowned in the spit of those wives.

  The club charged an entry fee—20 dollars a time.

  Vivienne knew this price was only for people like her with no status or background. For the officers' wives, it was a formal fee of 20 Kron—a price difference of over tenfold.

  But Vivienne didn't mind. For 20 dollars, one could hear news that never made the newspapers; it was worth the value.

  The club was bustling today. Nearly 200 people were packed into the tea room and restaurant.

  No wonder. With a riot breaking out, everyone wanted to get close to an officer's wife or two.

  Vivienne couldn't find a seat. Eventually, she had to stand in a corner until a waiter brought her a small wooden stool. She nodded with a smile and sat down gracefully.

  Anywhere else, a square wooden stool wouldn't fit her status, but in this setting, it fit perfectly.

  No good background, just a showgirl from the dance halls. Used a sweet voice and a pretty face in her youth to fleece some man out of a fortune—or so they said—then opened a decent-looking ballroom and kept twenty or thirty thugs on payroll.

  Heard she’s extremely promiscuous, changing men one after another.

  Does she even deserve to be here?

  Vivienne had heard enough of this whispering to grow calluses on her ears; she didn't care.

  One table away, about ten paces from Vivienne, sat a lady Vivienne was actually focused on. But the lady had her back turned and hadn't noticed Vivienne.

  Madame Rosalind was the wife of Commander Ramon. Her husband was a Commander in the First Military District, holding a higher rank than Antonio.

  However, this lady had been looking miserable for the past few months.

  Sitting empty-handed was boring. A 20-dollar ticket was supposed to come with a complimentary fruit plate and snacks, but Vivienne hadn't received anything yet.

  She had no choice but to pull out that jar of jam, dipping a small spoon in and taking a bite.

  "Sister, what is that? Does it taste good?"

  Hearing a familiar voice, Vivienne looked up and nodded with a smile at Madame Rosalind.

  "Why don't you come sit at my table?"

  The lady generously reached out, inviting Vivienne.

  But Vivienne just shook her head. If she actually sat there, the aristocrats at the same table would surely flee.

  Usually, they chatted when there were many empty seats; Madame Rosalind would specifically come over to keep her company for a bit.

  After a slight hesitation, Rosalind asked the waiter for a wooden stool identical to Vivienne’s and sat down beside her.

  "You've grown thin again!"

  Vivienne stared at the lady's pale face and sunken eyes. What on earth was wrong with her?

  "Sigh, to tell you the truth, my husband has been restless lately, and I’ve become restless too. He feels weary of being an officer and wants to resign."

  "So you stopped eating?"

  "Yes. I didn't have much of an appetite before, and now it's even worse. I don't know what to do. I’m really afraid that if I die, he’ll be left to face it all alone."

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  The officers' wives here all lived to outdo one another in wealth and status. Rosalind seemed to have found a safe "tree hollow" to confide in; once she started talking, she couldn't stop.

  "And our marital life is very discordant now. He thinks I’m as skinny as a ghost and doesn't like touching me. I heard he even has another woman outside."

  "Sister, promise me you won't tell anyone."

  Vivienne smiled: "How could I?"

  "I sent someone to track that woman. Didn't catch her, only got a photo of her back as she walked hand-in-hand with my husband. I can recognize him; I’d know his back even if he turned to ash."

  At that moment, Rosalind finally noticed Vivienne's strange behavior:

  "Sister, you never eat this many sweets. What exactly is this?"

  A jar of sweets without a label?

  Madame Rosalind stared at the jar clutched in Vivienne’s hand with growing curiosity.

  "It’s a mysterious jam. I don't know what it’s made of either."

  "Ah! That's it!" Vivienne finally hit on the key point: "This jam is sweet and sour, perfect for stimulating the appetite. Madame, if you eat this, you might get your appetite back. I’ll buy you a jar next time."

  "Next time?" Rosalind couldn't wait.

  She went back to her seat and brought her own spoon.

  "But, there's my saliva in here," Vivienne said, a bit embarrassed.

  "It’s fine, I’ll just try a tiny bit."

  Madame Rosalind put half a spoonful of jam into her mouth. Then, a moving light actually flickered in her weary eyes.

  Vivienne was finally certain; she wasn't the only one who found this jam delicious.

  "Wow! This jam..." Rosalind took a large spoonful this time. After swallowing, she continued:

  "Sister, this jam... give it to me... no, no, I’ll buy it... is 20 dollars okay?"

  20 dollars?

  Vivienne’s jaw dropped. She regretted not buying a few more jars; at least she could give them as gifts.

  As for selling? She could double her money.

  Vivienne naturally didn't care about the profit of one jar, but what about tens of thousands of jars? Good heavens, the profit margin was high.

  She’d have to have someone check where Mateo got this stuff.

  While Vivienne was thinking, Madame Rosalind thought Vivienne didn't want to sell and shoved 50 dollars over.

  "Sister, the money is yours, the jam is mine."

  "Are you crazy, Sister?" Vivienne cried out, shoving the money back. "I was thinking about how to find the merchant next time. He’s from across the river, it’s not easy for him to come over. How could I take your money? Take it back, the jam is yours. You’re being way too cold, trying to pay me."

  Rosalind realized she had actually tried to spend 50 dollars on a jar of jam. She looked at Vivienne, and the two of them burst into laughter together.

  The church mortuary was actually a large cold storage unit. Once the door was locked from the inside, the sound of smashing outside became muffled.

  No need to fear the heat either; Evangeline set it to a comfortable temperature.

  Fabian stared at Evangeline’s beautiful face, secretly feeling inferior. He had been in many women's beds but had never been in love; he finally realized this was what a racing heart felt like.

  The three introduced themselves. Fabian only dared to say he was one of Madame Vivienne’s men.

  Salazar, a clerk from the Bureau of Land and Resources, nodded thoughtfully upon hearing this, while only Peilin’s face remained calm.

  Salazar took some painkillers and eventually fell asleep, leaving only Fabian and Evangeline to chat.

  "You mean, you actually get a salary for working at the church?"

  "Yes, of course I get a salary." Evangeline couldn't believe this man from the flesh trade could be so ignorant.

  But looking at his eyes, one could say he was simply naive.

  "That's great!" Fabian felt envious.

  If he could have found a job with even a tiny salary back when his mother was sick, he would never have entered the life of a male escort. Thinking that he now knew a girl as beautiful and holy as Evangeline, Fabian began to feel regret, hanging his head in sadness.

  "Is church work good? It’s not like you can make much money, and you can’t afford nice clothes, you just wear this."

  Evangeline shook her black sleeve and gave a bitter smile.

  "Clothes don't fully represent a person’s beauty or ugliness..." Fabian murmured to himself, nearly in tears. He bit his lip, looked down at his suit, and said fiercely: "Some clothes look flashy, but they are actually very dirty!"

  Evangeline didn't dare respond. She didn't know what this man was thinking.

  Did he hate being someone’s kept man?

  Then why did he do it?

  After a long silence, the smashing sounds outside grew louder. They had probably followed the blood trail to the church.

  "I really hope they don't break that door. It’ll cost a fortune to repair. If they pry it open, I hope they just take the grain and leave."

  Seeing Evangeline’s worry, Fabian found courage from somewhere and whispered:

  "It’s okay. I’ll help you fix it when the time comes."