Lian's breakdown had come as a shock, yet strangely it had been the clearest conversation Katharina had managed to have with anyone in weeks.

  It had made apparent that something sinister was at play, and whatever it was hinged entirely on her ability to learn faster.

  So she stepped up her game. Every harsh correction from Lian was carefully memorized such that no minute detail was lost. This paid off. Her understanding was growing, and with it, Lian's desperation began to ease.

  Now, as they were making their way back from Madam R?fna's lesson, the monotone rhythm of their little group walking in unison made her thoughts start to drift.

  Her ears had been much more attuned to listen diligently, not only to the language lessons, but also to many other things around the manor, and a number of patterns were starting to emerge.

  It would be just the two of them at an empty table during supper, and the next morning would bring just a handful of new faces seated at their table. Although seating arrangements were allowed to change, there was an underlying expectation, apart from the brand's desire, to adhere to social norms of knowing one's place and where one belonged.

  But just as new faces would appear with a new dawn, others would seemingly disappear in the dead of night.

  From what Katharina had observed, two types of people would suddenly disappear.

  First were those who fell into the same category as a pair of guys she had noticed were no longer around.

  One was tall and slender, with hazel curls, who, in many ways, had caught her attention because of his resemblance to her boyfriend. But contrary to her favorite lanky gamer from home, the young man was poised and moved about the mess hall as though he were floating.

  The other was shorter, with coarse black hair that stood straight into the air. But still, his body was that of an athlete, and even if he was not as graceful as the other, the sheer confidence with which he moved had been enough for Katharina to take note of him.

  It wasn't hard to guess that now they were likely the prized possession of a delighted master. Even if I didn't know them, I hope they are okay.

  They reached the entrance to the mess hall, and as they walked in, Katharina couldn't help but scan the hall. At first glance, there seemed to be a few new faces, but it was hard to tell. On the other hand, it didn't look like anyone from yesterday was missing, at least not any that she could remember.

  As they walked to each grab a bowl and be plated a sloshing scoop on mush, their little group split into two, 'Runner', Lian and Katharina walked to their usual table, while 'Tall girl', 'Princess nose' and 'Braid girl' would walk to sit beside another group of six other girls as though they were too good to sit beside the foreigner and the girl who got second most in trouble.

  The antithesis of the pair of boys was those whose absence made the mess hall feel less empty.

  Yesterday, she could have sworn she sat diagonally across from a girl who put Katharina's tired eyes to shame. Hers were devoid entirely of life.

  Like most of the other girls, she had the blunt bangs cut in her brown hair, but instead of framing her face, her chin hung so low that her locks cast a dark shadow over what could only be described as a desolate expression.

  She would only poke at the gray mush, leaving Katharina convinced that she was slowly shrinking from a lack of nourishment, although the manor's generally draining atmosphere could also be to blame.

  But today no one was there, and Katharina wouldn't have noticed at all if 'Runner' hadn't come to ask if she could sit in the empty seat. Didn't someone use to sit there?

  Worst of all was the sense that when Katharina tried to recall the girl's face, the brand would steer her thoughts elsewhere, as though forgetting was the only right thing to do.

  An unpleasant feeling of relief came over Katharina as she reassured herself that it hadn't been a girl from their group, even if they didn't sit together; she still counted six.

  It wasn't because she knew any of them, at least not beyond what she gleamed from observing them in the lessons, and that hardly amounted to knowing someone. It was probably the sense of security that came from knowing what to expect each day.

  However, a distinction had started to be made between the other girls and 'Runner' and Katharina, who were undoubtedly the ones lagging, and it was beginning to worry her a little.

  If I'm not careful, this place is gonna grind me to a sad little pulp, and then 'they' will get rid of me for sure.

  But lagging meant there was some clear goal ahead that had to be reached. And by observing her own group and the few others who had made themselves distinct, it seemed the manor was focusing on training a select group of servants.

  Her group was the 'wallflowers'. Their lessons focused on standing correctly, smiling correctly, being pretty and demure, and most importantly, being silent.

  There were other batches of wallflowers in training at different stages of competence. Surprisingly, their group did not seem the most newly formed, even if she had joined quite recently.

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  The way Lian and some of the other seem to perform so perfectly in the lessons, there is no way they are new to this kind of thing.

  And even though Lian, when compared to the poised boy, seemed rough around the edges, she was still much more refined than most.

  Katharina had noticed a disturbing number of teenage faces in the mess hall; some looked as young as sixteen or seventeen. And most of these were just as clumsy and often out running laps as she was herself.

  At this point, I'm more deserving of the 'Runner'-name than 'Runner'.

  The boys she saw around the manor seemed to be trained in a similar syllabus, yet they were slightly different. Instead of being trained as wallflowers, Katharina found it more fitting to call them 'Roman sculptures'. Their physical appearances were far more chiseled.

  This had been especially apparent in last week's dance lesson when a group of them had joined to start learning a new style of dance. At first, the instructor had given the longest spiel she had ever heard from her, which was still just a few sentences Katharina couldn't understand, before she returned to her book. And then the next few hours had been spent being slung about, even thrown into the air, in some exotic cheerleading dance. It had been an experience, to say the least, but most importantly, it had shown that there must have been other instructors or lessons that taught the boys these types of athletics.

  Then there were the 'fighters.' They stood out immediately in their fitted knitted leotards, the only group allowed such a uniform, and Katharina had only ever seen them training outside, vaulting on and off horses, or moving in perfect unison with wooden mock weapons, hence the name.

  Of course, she was pretty sure they were not being trained for any army, since these were still beautiful, poised individuals. For all Katharina could tell, their so-called 'combat training' looked more like a performance than anything else, although who was she to say? She had never seen a real swordfight in her life. They could be performative athletes of some kind.

  Fighters, athletes... well, I hope it's not more like gladiators.

  All these thoughts of categorizing the people of the manor had been spinning in her head since yesterday evening, and now she sat there almost a day later, poking at her mush, having killed her own appetite.

  And her gaze started to wander through the hall to look for any of the new faces she had spotted when they entered the hall.

  She could tell when someone was new, and just like with the ones that disappeared, newcomers also existed in two flavors.

  Those most like her, new to everything, the burn and tug of the brand, the manor, the lessons, probably someone newly enslaved that, like her, had ended up here right after being branded.

  These were the sparser type, but now her eyes rested on a young boy who lingered in the corner, unsure of where to take a seat. His eyes distinguished themselves from others by their constant flickering, and the longer he stood there, the more pained his expression became, undoubtedly the effects of the brand getting stronger as he inadvertently disobeyed the order to sit, eat, and move along. She couldn't help but lightly scoff to herself in sympathy.

  This little sound was embarrassingly apparent in the sudden silence that had fallen over the people sitting around her, and Katharina's analytic contemplation came to a halt.

  "Is ?∞°?∞? sitting here?" A young but confident voice sounded right behind Katharina.

  As she turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes fell on a teenage girl whose attire and hair were much different from most others. Her warm chestnut brown hair was kept in two tight buns on top of her head, and she wore one of those woolen leotards that only a few others wore.

  The girl gestured toward the seat next to Katharina and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  "Oh.. ehm, you can sit." Katharina was rather proud that she had managed to answer all on her own, and turned back to see if Lian had noticed her feat. But instead of the affirming smile she was expecting to find on Lian's face, she found her face paler than just a moment ago, and a slight expression of shocked awe. Not what I was expecting, but I guess it means I did well?

  For a moment, Katharina thought she might be the one who had prompted this reaction from Lian, but as they sat there slowly eating, she noticed how Lian would cast stolen glances at the girl with any chance she got. Clearly, Lian's interest was piqued due to this new presence at their table.

  This girl was a perfect example of the other type of newcomers, those who, clearly, knew the rules ahead of time. And rather than being at the manor for training and to be polished, this was merely a pitstop before they soon would be off elsewhere. These newcomers would always have a certain presence, and it was hard not to notice them immediately when they walked into the room.

  And this particular girl somehow commanded the room with a presence that seeped from her in warm waves.

  No, really, as she sat down beside them, Katharina couldn't help but think Damn, she is hot! But not in the traditional meaning of being attractive, no, this was literal heat that came off the girl.

  She glanced over at the girl's bowl, and to her surprise, she saw that there was more to her mush than just boring grayness; little chunks of what looked like meat and vegetables were sprinkled on top. Unfair, why does she get to eat better than the rest of us?

  Many things about this place seemed unfair; really, the place itself was unfair.

  But somehow there also seemed to be a purpose to everything, the way they were trained, the people in the fields, and even the food they were allowed to eat. The constant flow of people coming and going.

  In some twisted way behind it all was a neatly thought-out plan.

  Unsettled Katharina now saw the manor for what it was.

  Behind all the velvet curtains, beautiful gardens, and extravagant visitors, this was an institution, a machine.

  She and all the other slaves were merely the fuel and grease that made it run smoothly.

  The elegant foyer served as an intake, filtering the unusable rocks from the energy-rich coal.

  Each lesson and instructor was another step in a long assembly line, applying more heat and pressure.

  The punishments were quality checks, ensuring that no rock could enter the cogs and disrupt the mechanism.

  Those discarded as rocks were repurposed, sent to grind away in the fields and provide lubrication in the form of food and labor for the finer processes within the machine's inner workings.

  While those regarded as pure enough to become coal would be processed through the manor, where they would either burn in the scorching of the brand or be turned to diamonds under the pressure of the training.

  By the end, they were either vaporized and forgotten or sold to line the pockets of the ever-omniscient master

  A horrible machine made for turning the lives of the unfortunate into riches and wealth for those deemed more human.

  ‘Well Oiled Machine’ marks a turning point, and I can’t wait to share where things go from here.

  With that I look forward to sharing the next chapter on tuesday! :D