After patting the children’s heads one by one, Mrs. Hudson prepared to head back.
She carried her now-empty basket on her arm. “I’m heading back to Baker Street. The carriage is waiting for me—besides, you know 221B simply cannot function without a lady of the house!”
“Didn’t the maid you hired just get back from the countryside?” Arna had just finished one beef pie and was already holding another. “Leave the cleaning to her. If she can’t handle it, I’ll do it when I get back.”
She shrugged. “Auntie, you really ought to take a break.”
“I know,” Mrs. Hudson said affectionately, pinching Arna’s cheek, which was puffed out with food. She didn’t forget to complain, “But the person who worked until two in the morning last week has no right to say that.”
Arna gave a dry laugh. “You have a great memory, Auntie.”
Oliver let out a snicker, earning a glare from Arna. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t particularly afraid of her anymore after spending so much time together.
He grinned at her, then handed the washed jars back to Mrs. Hudson, receiving a warm hug in return.
Once Mrs. Hudson had packed everything away, she boarded the carriage with an elegance rare for someone her age and waved goodbye to the group.
The apprentices, their stomachs full of food, returned to the table to continue their lessons and work.
“…I’m telling you,” Charley Bates whispered to Doug, “I bet even the Queen’s grandmother doesn’t make pies as good as Mrs. Hudson’s!”
Doug grinned and fished half a pie out of his pocket.
“We’ll eat this quietly later,” he said mysteriously. “I managed to snag it.”
Sitting beside them, Oliver’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is that…”
Stolen? Someone else’s?
“It’s all about being a smooth talker,” Doug said boastfully. “She gave it to me specially!”
Before he could brag any further, he received a sharp rap on the head, and the pie, wrapped in half a sheet of paper, was snatched away.
“No eating during study time,” Nancy said, tucking the pie away. “Doug, do it again and you’re skipping dinner.”
The clever boy’s face immediately fell. “Nancy, Mrs. Hudson gave that to me…”
Under Nancy’s stern gaze, he reluctantly added the proper honorific. “Miss Nancy.”
“I’ll give it to you at dinnertime,” Nancy said. She folded the wrapping paper and tucked it into her apron pocket before raising her hands and clapping lightly. “Alright, children, back to your writing!”
Nearby, Lucy, who had been quietly observing the interaction, suddenly felt a tug on her sleeve.
She shifted her gaze and looked at Bella, who was clutching a corner of her sleeve.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I think I hear a carriage,” Bella said uncertainty. “It sounds like someone else is coming to the factory…”
Lucy listened for a moment.
The rumble of wheels over the ground, the rhythmic thud of powerful hooves, and the crisp crack of a coachman’s whip in the air.
It really was!
“Miss Nancy,” she called out loudly, “we have another visitor!”
***
The visitor was Lawyer Green.
His cases were still dragging through the High Court of Justice, and with nothing urgent to do, he decided to swing by Little Mr. Isaacs’ factory before dinner to see how things were going.
Since the boy hadn’t come to him to mortgage the land deed yet, he assumed things were at least decent.
He arrived by carriage and was shocked by the factory’s renewed appearance as he approached.
Stepping inside, Lawyer Green felt a brief sense of disorientation at the sight of the clean workshop and the children sitting around the long table, studying in an orderly fashion.
…Who would have thought Little Mr. Isaacs could actually be this reliable?
He took a lap around the ground floor. Most of the vast, empty space was devoid of machinery, but there were plenty of crates filled with parts of unknown purpose.
Hearing footsteps from above, Lawyer Green looked up and saw Arna slowly descending the stairs, followed by a plainly dressed young woman—likely the children’s teacher.
It seemed that seeing more of the world really did help one grow; the boy looked much more composed now.
“I haven’t seen you in a few days, and you’ve already built quite the enterprise,” Lawyer Green said with a smile. “I heard you were repurposing the factory, but this far exceeds my expectations.”
Arna beamed and happily led Lawyer Green into the office, leaning against the desk with a hint of bravado.
“Well?” She pointed proudly at the clear view of the factory interior through the glass. “Pretty good, right? What do you think my grandfather would say?”
Surely it would be a perfect score!
“A massive improvement. The place is much more respectable,” Green praised. “I’d even call it remarkable.”
As for the second question, he actually took a moment to think. “Your grandfather… frankly, no matter what you were doing here, he’d probably be baffled.”
Given Old Isaacs’ level of education, unless he had taken a crash course in mechanical engineering in heaven, he likely wouldn’t have understood a lick of it.
Seeing the blank look on Arna’s face, he added leisurely, “But no matter what you do, he would be proud of you.”
Arna grinned.
She picked up a component she had assembled herself from the desk and handed it to Lawyer Green, along with the blueprints. “This is what we’re making. It’s for carriages—it reduces vibrations. The cost is low, and I’ve already tested it; it works quite well.”
Lawyer Green narrowed his eyes, examining it closely as legal terms whirled through his mind, finally landing on one.
“Mhm, not bad. But you must apply for a patent. Every industry is full of greedy and incompetent people,” he said bitingly. “If there’s a profit to be made, they’d steal a widow’s weeds.”
Imagining a bunch of men trying to squeeze themselves into mourning veils, Arna burst out laughing.
“Don’t be so quick to laugh,” Lawyer Green said, knitting his brows in disapproval. “You need to consider other things.”
He tapped his cane against the floor. “I can help you draft the documents, but as everyone knows, you need to pay a fee to the Royal Patent Office.”
“…Pay a fee?” Arna asked blankly.
Wasn’t this the kind of thing where you just apply and get approved? Most farming simulation games never mentioned paying taxes to the town mayor!
In those games, you usually just enjoyed the legacy of your predecessors—like stealing the mayor’s underpants to sell for cash or digging up gold from the graves of former residents.
Seeing the obvious hesitation on Arna’s face, Green sighed.
“It is worth every penny, mark my words,” he said.
Before she could reply, the office door creaked open.
“I didn’t realize you had a guest,” Watson said, looking a bit surprised and embarrassed. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
He was carrying his medical kit, clearly having just come from a patient’s house; there was a faint stain of iodine on his white shirt sleeve.
“Perfect timing. We were just discussing patent fees,” Green said. “Won’t you introduce us, Isaacs?”
“Oh,” Arna snapped out of her thoughts. “Dr. Watson, this is Mr. Green, a lawyer and a friend of my grandfather. Mr. Green, this is Dr. Watson, my friend—and one of my aunt’s tenants.”
Dr. Watson nodded politely. “A pleasure, Mr. Green.”
He hesitated for a moment, deciding to give the two some space. “I’ll head downstairs for a bit. I’ll come back when you’re finished.”
“No, you’ve arrived at just the right time,” Lawyer Green said immediately.
As if remembering something, he turned back to Arna. “Your factory is still missing one thing. Do you know what it is?”
Arna: “…Money?”
To be fair, she really was short on cash.
Lawyer Green was momentarily choked by her answer.
“No, it’s a matter of labor compliance,” he said. “You see—actually, you probably don’t. Factories have requirements for the age and physical condition of workers. Given the issues with different age groups, you need a doctor to issue an assessment certificate, proving that the children you employ are of age, or at least convincing the inspectors that you believe them to be.”
Watson was a bit dazed by the legal jargon, but his sharp mind caught the gist.
“Bureaucracy,” he muttered.
“Quite,” Lawyer Green shrugged. “My apologies, sir, but we lawyers are paid to find these problems.”
“And what about solving them?” Arna asked curiously.
Finding both of their gazes fixed on her, she instinctively felt a sense of dread. “…Me? I have to do it?”
For real?
Fine, the player is the center of the world, the savior, the “too many titles to fit in this paragraph” protagonist.
Arna let out a long sigh. “I get it. I’ll handle it.”
She saw the lawyer off. It was nearly time for dinner.
After spending the whole day cranking out three crates of parts and having a steady income from the children’s work, Arna wasn’t in the mood to keep grinding through the night.
As she boarded her carriage and tightened the reins, she saw Watson walking down the path, silent and cautious, as if afraid of disturbing some terrible monster.
Arna slowed her pace, creeping along with the carriage at a short distance behind him.
Was a new plot event about to trigger? For instance, encountering five groups of bandits to help fatten her wallet?
Or maybe at this specific time on this specific road, two people walking together would trigger a special effect—producing some hideous creature that would tank their Sanity Points just by looking at it?
Arna followed behind with great anticipation.
But even as she neared the main road, nothing happened.
Arna finally couldn’t help herself.
“Dr. Watson,” she asked, “what are you hiding from?”
Watson nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.
“Good heavens!” He clutched his chest. “I’m hiding from… Have you been following me this whole time?”
Arna nodded.
Watson looked at her silently, staring with the same wary expression he’d had after that one time she’d sped down the road with him—an experience he clearly had no desire to repeat.
Arna: “…Need a lift?”
Watson’s wary expression slowly shifted into pure terror.
“…I swear,” Arna said quickly, “I’ll go slow.”
“You swear,” Watson said, clutching his medical kit to his chest like a shield. “No sharp turns, no acceleration, and—God help me—no jumping over obstacles.”
Arna held up two fingers, thought about it, realized that didn’t seem right, and silently tucked one down.
“None,” she declared solemnly. “I swear.”