Ⅲ
The sun dispelled the night and roused those who had slept through it.
In most places, people got up and washed as they always did.
The wives of middle-class households had already received their deliveries from the bakery. Meat from the butcher was naturally indispensable, while seasonings bought at the grocery store made breakfast a lavish affair.
During the "Silver Age," butter, honey, and cream had only appeared on holidays.
Even on holidays, people had been reluctant to use much.
But after the "Pioneer Age" began, everything had changed.
The concessions of the nobility.
The rise of shipping.
The advances in productivity.
All of them had made things different.
At least Mr. Duer, who lived on Kirk Street, was very satisfied with his current life. He still remembered how, as a child, he had only had a chance of eating a roughly fifty-gram portion of roast meat during the Wintertide Festival-a chance, not a certainty. Usually, he had only managed to eat it once every two or three years.
And now?
Mr. Duer looked at the full five hundred grams of pan-fried steak on the table, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
Of course, the black pepper and salt his wife passed him added a happiness to that smile that only a middle-aged man could understand.
Watching his wife help their son and daughter with breakfast, Mr. Duer unconsciously straightened his back as the head of the family.
He wanted to say a few words before the meal.
As a supervisor at the Trading Company, Mr. Duer thought that was what he ought to do.
But before he could speak, his wife interrupted him-
"Come home early tonight.
I bought a new nightdress at the department store.
Black silk."
His wife spoke quietly.
Had he not been sitting