A few months has passed
While Sofia had been busy planning grand romantic gestures and sneaking into the servants' quarters, Kei had been playing a much longer, quieter game.
Sofia discovered the truth on a Tuesday afternoon when she found a hidden ledger tucked beneath Kei's mattress not a debt ledger, but a savings plan. For two years, Kei had been funneling every cent of the "allowance" Elena provided, along with the small wages she'd negotiated, into a private account. She hadn't been just paying off a debt; she had been building a bridge to a life where she didn't have to answer to anyone.
"You're leaving," Sofia whispered, standing in the middle of Kei's room with the ledger in her hand.
Kei entered, carrying a stack of fresh linens. She didn't flinch. She simply set the linens down and looked at Sofia with a steady, calm gaze. "I am fulfilling my promise to my family, Sofia and then, I am fulfilling my promise to myself."
"By doing what , By Going to another country?"
"By being free," Kei replied. "I want something that belongs to me."
THE SIDE HUSTLE
A week later, Sofia found out exactly what "belonging to me" meant. After school, instead of heading straight home, Kei had requested a four-hour "personal block" twice a week a new clause Sofia had forced Elena to grant her.
Sofia, unable to contain her curiosity and her lingering jealousy, followed her.
She didn't find Kei at school or in house. She found her in a bustling night market three districts away from the St. Jude's bubble. The air was thick with the scent of charcoal, toasted sesame, and spices.
There, behind a modest but impeccably clean stainless-steel cart, stood Kei.
She had traded her slave uniform for a simple black apron. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing the lean muscles of her forearms as she expertly tossed noodles in a heavy wok. She was selling grilled chicken skewers and a signature spicy noodle bowl.
THE MASTER AT WORK
Sofia watched from the shadows of a nearby bubble tea stall, mesmerized. This wasn't the "machine" who folded silk dresses. This was a woman in her element. Kei moved with a rhythmic, fierce efficiency, barking out prices and handing over steaming containers of food to local workers and students.
She looked… happy. Not the polished, polite happiness she showed Sofia, but a raw, exhausted, beautiful satisfaction.
Sofia stepped forward, her expensive shoes clicking on the uneven pavement. "I'll take an order of the noodles. Extra spicy~~~"
Kei didn't look up at first. "That'll be five…" She froze, the tongs mid-air. She looked at Sofia, then at the crowded market, then back at Sofia. "You shouldn't be here. This district isn't safe for you."
"I think I'm safe with the best fighter in the city~~~" Sofia said, leaning against the metal counter of the cart. She looked at the jar of cash sitting by the grill. "Is this the business? Street food?"
"It's a start-up," Kei said, her voice regaining its composure, though a faint blush crept up her neck. "I'm testing recipes. I've saved enough to rent a small brick-and-mortar stall next month. I don't want your mother's money, Sofia. I want to earn my way out."
THE NEW TASTE OF LOVE
Kei handed Sofia a bowl of noodles. Sofia took a bite, the heat of the chili immediately blooming on her tongue. It was delicious bold, complex and nothing like the bland, "refined" food served at the estate.
"It tastes like you," Sofia said, wiping a bit of sauce from her lip.
"Burnt and spicy?" Kei teased, a genuine spark in her eyes.
"No. Real. Unfiltered," Sofia countered. She reached across the counter, ignoring the grease and the heat, and took Kei's hand. "I was so scared you were saving up to run away from me. But you're just saving up to be yourself."
Kei squeezed Sofia's hand briefly before a customer cleared their throat behind them. "I'm not running, Sofia. I planned to do this business 2 years ago. I want to be successful.
Sofia smiled, "Move over," Sofia said, tossing her designer bag onto a stool behind the cart.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm the best salesperson at St. Jude's," Sofia smirked, grabbing a stack of napkins. "If you want that shop by next month, you're going to need someone who knows how to handle a crowd. Now, give me an apron. We have noodles to sell."