Unemployment, homelessness, death

Vanessa's eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively tugged at her collar as though she could not breathe.

She pushed the mechanical typewriter aside, rose from her desk, and spoke in a somewhat trembling voice. "Mr. Aldrich, I-I didn't understand what you meant. Could you say that again?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Vanessa. You have been dismissed. Please complete the paperwork at the academic affairs office and move out of the faculty dormitory within two days," Randall said expressionlessly, then turned and left.

Her colleagues in the office all turned their eyes toward Vanessa. The young woman's already pale face lost every trace of color, but more unsettling were her pitch-black eyes. Not a spark remained in them, as though the soul within had died before her body.

Vanessa stood blankly for a long while before seeming to wake from a dream. She shoved her chair aside and stumbled toward the door.

No one stopped her. Even the colleagues who were usually the most cutting held their tongues. There was no mockery in their eyes, only a complicated mixture of fear, relief, and bewilderment.

Vanessa hurried down the corridor and soon turned into a room. The inset brass nameplate bore elegant cursive lettering:

Head of the School of History-Sir Randall Aldrich.

"Mr. Aldrich, is-is this true? God, how could this happen? I-I've always worked hard. I, I..."

She was somewhat incoherent, her eyes full of bewilderment.

Randall did not answer. He walked briskly around Vanessa and opened the door she had casually closed behind her. Only then did he turn to look at her.

"I'm very sorry, Teaching Assistant Vanessa. The school's budget has been tightening lately. Although you have worked hard, the history department no longer intends to employ teaching assistants."

"I-I also have a degree in archaeology..."

The man shrugged without speaking.

"How could this happen..." Vanessa felt her thoughts tangle into a knot. She twisted her fingers together and instinctively looked at Randall opposite her.

He was a middle-aged man. His already generously sized waistcoat was stretched taut, barely managing to contain his double chin. His half-bald scalp was always shiny with oil, and whenever he handed Vanessa documents, his thick, stubby fingers would always try to stray toward her.

Wait, he couldn't be...

Vanessa looked at the man before her with some alarm, but Randall, who had always leered at her before, merely shook his head this time. There was even a little pity in his gaze, sending an inexplicable chill through her.

"Teaching Assistant Vanessa, the spending cuts have already been decided. There's nothing I can do either. Please complete the paperwork promptly..."

His expression grew serious as he continued. "I remember you're from out of town and have no place to stay here, correct? This is my personal advice: find a new job as soon as possible, then find somewhere to live. Whatever you do, don't end up homeless."

"B-but..."

"I know things are depressed throughout society right now... but there's nothing to be done. Try your luck in as many places as you can."

As Randall spoke, he wrote out a few slips at his desk. "It's still early today. I'll approve some leave for you, so you can still use the university's public carriage... Miss Vanessa, you're a very capable person. You'll certainly find work."

He pressed the leave slips into Vanessa's hand and practically pushed her out of the office. "Hurry. You don't have much time."

Vanessa walked out of the university in a daze. Only then did she come to her senses and turn to look at the cast-iron gates behind her.

Miskatonic University.

Twenty days later.

Vanessa leaned against the cold wall, staring listlessly at the gray sky. As the strength drained from her body little by little, she slowly slid down to sit on the ground. A gas lamp nearby cast a dim yellow glow.

The weather was not too cold. At least it was raining rather than snowing, but that was even worse in some ways. Her clothes were soaked, and freezing rain ran down her hair and into her collar.

Fifteen steps ahead lay eaves that could shelter her from the wind and rain, and another three hundred meters farther was a relief station handing out food to the homeless, but she could no longer reach them.

She did not even feel cold. Instead, heat kept rising through her body, as though she had returned to her childhood, chattering about trivial things beside the stove while her mother held a pot and poured her a bowl of piping-hot porridge.

Sadly, it was all gone.

Other people lay curled up along the street. Some occasionally twitched a little; others did not. Someone raised their head to look at the young woman, with not a trace of desire in their eyes, only numbness.

How did I end up like this?

Vanessa's sluggish mind struggled to work. Just half a month ago, she had still had a respectable job. Although her daily duties were varied and tedious, they were not too demanding. Occasionally, she could even slack off and complain about the harsh department head with her colleagues.

She had only just graduated from this university and had been lucky enough to stay on as a teaching assistant. If everything went smoothly, she might secure a lecturer's position after putting in five years, then qualify for a professorship after another ten. By then, she would have a little more money and could lead teams on the archaeological digs she loved.

Yet in just twenty days, she was already wandering the streets.

She had only recently started working and had saved no money. She could not possibly afford rent and a deposit.

She had managed to linger in the dormitory for a few days, but was eventually driven out. She had no choice but to stay in a cheap hotel that charged by the day, which cost nearly twice as much as renting a place.

Her job search met with rejection everywhere. In fact, she had barely seen any decent job advertisements at all.

Over those twenty days, she had exhausted almost all her strength running from place to place, yet she could not find even the humblest job.

All of New Scandinavia City was in a slump. She could not find clerical work anywhere. The docks were hiring cargo handlers, but the people there took one look at her thin arms and sent her away. Hospitals were hiring nurses, but she had studied archaeology and history, so they would not take her at all.

Even the roadside grocery shops immediately shook their heads and refused her when they heard she had no fixed address.

Once she ended up on the streets and grew increasingly haggard, the way people looked at her quietly changed, as though she were no longer human, but some sort of beast with a human shape.

Never mind finding work-even passersby went out of their way to avoid her.

She had not found a job.

In New Scandinavia, no job meant no money, no money meant no place to live, and no place to live meant no chance of finding a job. It was a vicious cycle. She had fallen into it, and no matter how desperately she struggled, she could not climb out.

She could not understand how life had suddenly turned out this way.

Fortunately, she was not suffering now. The freezing rain falling on her felt warm. Vanessa pulled open her collar, lay back on the icy street, and slowly closed her eyes.

New Scandinavia was a beautiful, prosperous city. Vanessa liked it here.

She had studied here and spent a great deal of time dreaming about the future. She worked very hard, always believing that as long as she kept trying, everything would get better. She saved money bit by bit, did things as she should, strove to become strong, and carefully tucked away her kindness. She had done nothing wrong.

But now, she was going to die.