The temporary examination hall was set up inside one of the large reception buildings in the city.
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Long white curtains filtered the sunlight, softening the atmosphere while still keeping the room bright enough to reveal every movement, every posture, every tiny mistake.
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Rows of young men and women stood in quiet lines, their backs straight, hands folded in front of their stomachs, eyes facing forward.
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Nervous breaths.
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Dry throats.
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And hearts that beat just a little too loudly.
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They were not here to fight monsters.
They were not here to take a written test.
They were here to be judged as people.
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"Remember," the chief examiner said calmly, his voice carrying clearly through the hall, "this is not an academic test. This is not a test of strength. This is a test of presence."
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Several candidates swallowed.
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"Beauty. Elegance. Composure. And most importantly—your ability to handle pressure while maintaining noble etiquette."
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He gestured lightly.
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"Begin."
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The first part was posture and movement.
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One by one, the candidates were called forward.
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"Walk from here to there."
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It sounded simple.
It was not.
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Some walked too stiffly, like wooden dolls.
Some walked too casually, like they were strolling through a market.
Some forgot their hands.
Some forgot their expressions.
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A young man tripped slightly when he turned, and though he didn't fall, the examiner's pen paused for just a moment longer than usual.
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"Next."
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A young woman stepped forward.
Her back was straight, her steps light but steady, her hands folded naturally. She stopped at the designated point, turned smoothly, and bowed at exactly the right angle.
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The examiner nodded and wrote something down.
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The second part was expression and speech.
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"Greet me as if I am a noble customer."
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One candidate's voice shook.
"W-welcome, honored guest, to our—"
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He froze.
His mind went blank.
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A thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead.
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"Thank you. Next."
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Another candidate took a breath, smiled gently, and spoke in a calm, clear voice.
"Welcome. We are honored by your presence today. Please allow me to guide you to your seat."
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Not too stiff.
Not too casual.
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Just right.
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The third part was the pressure test.
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An assistant examiner suddenly raised his voice.
"This soup is cold. Do you think I'm a beggar?!"
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Several candidates flinched.
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One young man panicked.
"I-I'm sorry! I'll change it! Please don't be angry!"
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He bowed too deeply. Too desperately.
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The examiner's pen stopped again.
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Another candidate, a girl with slightly trembling hands, paused for half a breath, then straightened her back.
"I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. Please allow me to replace it immediately, and I will personally ensure it meets your expectations."
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Her voice wasn't loud.
But it didn't shake.
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Her eyes didn't avoid the examiner's.
But they weren't challenging either.
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The examiner's pen moved.
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Again and again, different situations were thrown at them.
Spilled drinks.
Wrong orders.
Impatient customers.
Arrogant nobles.
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Some candidates crumbled.
Some tried too hard.
Some grew flustered and forgot their etiquette.
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But a few—only a few—remained calm, polite, and dignified no matter what was thrown at them.
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Those were the ones the examiners kept glancing at.
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By the time the sun had moved slightly past its peak, the first phase was over.
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"Successful candidates will be informed," the chief examiner said.
"Those who are not selected—thank you for your effort."
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Relief.
Disappointment.
Hope.
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All mixed together in the air.
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And this was only the beginning.
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Because after the waiters and waitresses…
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The cleaners would be examined.
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And then, their lives would quietly change.
Unlike the waiters' examination hall, there was no grand room, no long lines, and no nervous instructions.
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The women were called one by one.
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Some came holding their children's hands.
Some left them with neighbors.
Some arrived in worn clothes, carefully washed and mended again and again.
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They did not stand straight like soldiers.
They did not know noble etiquette.
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And none of them were asked to demonstrate anything.
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They were simply… invited.
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Inside a quiet office, a staff member read from a list.
"Marna."
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A thin woman in her early thirties stepped forward, her hands clenched around the edge of her apron.
"Yes…?"
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"You are a widow with two children, correct?"
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She froze for a moment, then nodded.
"Yes, sir."
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"You have been selected."
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"…Selected?"
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For a second, she didn't understand the word.
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"You will be employed as cleaning staff in the new restaurant. The pay, working hours, and benefits will be explained shortly."
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The woman stared.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
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"…Me?"
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The staff member smiled faintly.
"Yes. You."
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Her knees almost gave out.
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Behind her, another woman covered her mouth with her hand.
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They had all heard the rumors.
That this place was different.
That the owner herself had asked for widows with children.
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But hearing it directly…
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It felt unreal.
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One by one, their names were called.
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Each time, the same question.
Each time, the same answer.
Each time, the same stunned silence.
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Some started crying quietly.
Some bit their lips hard, trying not to.
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One woman bowed so deeply her forehead almost touched the floor.
"Thank you… thank you so much…"
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Her voice broke halfway through.
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They were not being tested.
They were not being judged.
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They were being given a hand.
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Raising children alone was not just hard.
It was cruel.
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Waking before sunrise.
Working until their bodies ached.
Skipping meals so their children could eat.
Smiling in front of them even when there was nothing left inside.
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Some had lost their husbands to monsters.
Some to illness.
Some to accidents that never should have happened.
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But the result was the same.
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An empty seat at night.
And a future that always felt one step away from collapsing.
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This job…
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It was not just work.
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It was stability.
It was dignity.
It was a promise that tomorrow could be a little less frightening.
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One of the younger women, holding a small boy outside, suddenly knelt and hugged him tightly.
"We'll be okay," she whispered.
"We'll be okay now."
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The boy didn't understand everything.
But he hugged her back anyway.
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When all of them had been informed, a final message was delivered.
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"Please come to the Astley estate in three days. You will sign the contract there."
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The women left the building quietly.
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But their steps were lighter than when they had arrived.
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And for the first time in a long while…
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They walked forward without looking down.
After the selection process was concluded, all successful candidates were summoned once more to the main hall.
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The atmosphere was different from the day of the exams.
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There was no suffocating tension.
No desperate prayers.
Only a restless kind of anticipation, like standing on the edge of something unknown.
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The waiters, waitresses, and cleaning staff filled the hall together.
People who had been strangers a short while ago now recognized each other's faces.
Some even nodded in greeting.
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"They really called everyone again," a young waiter whispered to the man beside him.
"Do you think there's another test?"
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The other man shook his head.
"We already passed. I think this is just for formalities."
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Not far away, Marna sat with two other widows.
Her hands were folded tightly in her lap.
"…I don't like this," one of them murmured. "What if something changes?"
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Marna didn't answer.
She had the same fear.
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After a while, a senior staff member stepped onto the platform at the front of the hall.
The quiet spread naturally.
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"First of all," he said, his voice calm and clear, "congratulations to all of you for passing the selection."
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A wave of relieved murmurs rolled through the hall.
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Some people exhaled like they had been holding their breath for days.
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"However," the man continued, raising one hand slightly, "your employment is not yet complete."
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The murmurs stopped.
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A young waitress stiffened.
"…What does that mean?"
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The staff member let the silence linger for a moment before continuing.
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"One week from today, you will all be summoned here again to formally sign your contracts."
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That sounded normal.
Several people nodded.
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But then he added:
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"On that day, those of you who have family members are to bring them with you."
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The hall stirred.
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"…Family members?"
"…Bring… our children too?"
"…Why?"
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A man in the middle rows raised his hand hesitantly.
"Excuse me… may I ask why?"
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The staff member looked at him.
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"Because," he said simply, "this is not a matter that concerns only you."
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He continued:
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"The owner has requested that the families of those who will work here also be invited."
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That caused a much stronger reaction.
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"The owner…?"
"So she really is involved in this?"
"She wants to meet our families too?"
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Among the cleaners, the reaction was even stronger.
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Marna's eyes widened slightly.
"…Our families…?"
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The staff member waited for the noise to die down.
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"After the contract signing, a banquet will be held in your honor," he said. "It will be for you and for the people who support you."
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The hall went quiet.
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A banquet.
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For them?
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"That… sounds too much…" someone muttered.
"Are we really allowed to bring our kids to something like that?"
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Another whispered, "I've never been to a banquet in my life…"
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Then came the final part.
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"And on that day," the staff member said, "you will be formally introduced to the owner of this establishment."
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This time, the hall properly erupted.
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"We'll meet her in person?!"
"The owner herself?!"
"What kind of person is she?"
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Even the ones who had been calm until now couldn't hide their agitation.
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The staff member raised his hand again.
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"One week from today. Please make your preparations. That is all."
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He bowed lightly and stepped down.
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For several seconds, no one moved.
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Then—
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"…Did you hear that?"
"…They're inviting our families…"
"…A banquet…"
"…And the owner…"
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Small groups immediately formed.
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A young waiter laughed nervously.
"My little sister has never left our neighborhood. If I bring her to a place like that, she'll faint."
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A waitress covered her mouth.
"I don't even have a proper dress…"
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Near the back, Marna sat quietly.
Another widow beside her whispered:
"…Do you think… this really means we're safe now?"
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Marna looked down at her hands.
Then she said softly:
"…I don't know. But… it feels like something important is starting."
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Around them, the hall was filled with anxious, excited, confused voices.
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But one thing was certain.
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One week later…
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Their lives would change.