091. Like a child
“Are you okay?”
"Yes?"
“Does anything hurt?”
Ingrid studied the dishwasher's dark face.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
The smile was so obviously forced that Ingrid felt uneasy for some reason.
“...If you’re in pain, don’t hold it in, tell me right away. I’ll give you some rest. I don’t want to find a dead body in my restaurant.”
The moment she finished speaking, Ingrid gasped in surprise.
Why am I like this? Didn't I lose my temper with that kid for no reason a few days ago?
Ingrid coughed to hide her flushed face and turned her eyes back to her ledger.
If the dishwasher showed any sign of resentment, she planned to apologize immediately. But strangely, the person in front of her remained silent for a long time.
Ingrid slowly raised her head. As expected, the dishwasher was still standing there. The only thing that was different from what she expected was the serious look in her eyes, fixed on the ledger.
"Excuse me..."
"Huh?"
“May I ask you something, even though it’s presumptuous of me to do so? It’s written in the ledger.”
She was momentarily dumbfounded by the unexpected words coming out of the dishwasher's mouth.
“I don’t know which potter you bought it from, but something seems wrong. Unless you knew it was a fake and bought it...”
“What.. Do you mean? It’s a counterfeit?”
A moment of embarrassment crossed the dishwasher's face. It was obvious that she thought she had done something presumptuous.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look at it, but I didn’t realize it...”
Ingrid looked back and forth between the blushing dishwasher and her ledger.
“Why do you think I bought a counterfeit?”
“The genuine one has tighter, wavy lines. The hydrangea color is also darker.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Ingrid ran to the scullery and brought out the teacup. When she held it up in the bright sunlight, the finest teacup, made by the Birmingham royal craftsman, looked like a really cheap imitation.
The dishwasher's explanation continued.
“Because Birmingham teacups are so popular, porcelain merchants sometimes sell fakes. That’s why the butlers of noblemen spend a lot of time distinguishing between the real and the fake.”
“Are you sure?”
"Yes."
Ingrid was shocked by the decisive answer.
“But... how do you... Know that?”
Even as she asked that question, Ingrid somehow felt like she knew the answer.
Actually, she thought something was strange from the time she first came here looking for a job.
The white, even teeth and clear skin were by no means those of an ordinary worker.
Was it just his appearance? Anyone who saw her speech, behavior, and personality would agree that she was either a nobleman or a wealthy, well-educated commoner.
Looking at the dishwasher, who had cut off her breathtakingly colored hair and tried to avoid being noticed by people, Ingrid thought of her as a noblewoman who had run away to hide her identity because her family had fallen into ruin.
Whatever the truth, Ingrid had no intention of keeping her around. She was a noblewoman with a story, and she was absolutely unacceptable.
The problem was that the veiled dishwasher was doing a much better job than expected. Ingrid delayed the announcement of the layoff, saying, “Just one more week, just one more week,” as the chef had said, and before she knew it, two months had passed.
The dishwasher, who had been hesitating, opened his mouth again.
“Actually, I once worked at a Baron’s mansion. There, I helped the butler, served tea, and did other things.”
Ingrid was left speechless for a moment because the answer was so unexpected.
Emilia, who returned to Scully, felt regret rising from the depths of her heart.
Not only did she steal someone else's account books, but she also gave rash advice.
She shook her head vigorously to shake off her uneasy feelings, and then spent a long time just focusing on washing the dishes.
The moment Emilia finished washing the dishes and got up from her crouching position, she suddenly felt her eyes spinning again. She unconsciously sank to the ground, tightly closing her eyes and waiting for the dizziness to subside.
Am I pushing myself too hard?
You shouldn't overwork yourself like a stepmother and make your child sick.
Should I quit after all?
Emilia had been worrying about the same thing for several days.
The King's grant is enough to last a year even if her mother quits her job at the factory. Mitch is also looking for a job to earn money. There will never be a time when she will resort to private loans like before.
But that didn't mean she could quit work right away.
Emilia had no intention of letting twelve-year-old Mitch do the work.
A child must go to school. Taking a semester off is one thing, but quitting completely is another.
Charlotte was the same. They need to find a school for the blind or a tutor quickly to help her communicate with the world.
More than anything, Emilia wanted to continue working for herself.
She was starting to like this small restaurant, which she had knocked on without any expectations. The owner, Ingrid, was a bit nervous like before, but she was actually a warm and gentle person.
Chef Hellock was the same. He would still swear at the slightest mistake, but on the other hand, wasn't he the kind of person who shared food with her?
Emilia endured the hard times here, making small achievements. She wanted to forget those complicated thoughts from now on.
'You are free. I will be free. And then we start again.'
If that's true...
Now free, Emilia plans to live however she wants for the time being.
“What’s the big deal about that banquet? You broke off the engagement and even showed your sincerity by preparing a surprise gift. It’s surprisingly romantic, isn’t it?”
Hannes' eyes, filled with a smile, turned to his daughter. Bianca smiled just the right amount, neither too much nor too little.
“To be honest, I had some feelings of disappointment towards you, but this incident has completely dispelled those feelings.”
Hannes continued, patting Hardius on the shoulder.
“You will understand when you have a daughter. I mean, the heart of a father who has a daughter. Even if it is a marriage by alliance, I want to marry my daughter to the man who cherishes her the most in the world...”
“Father, the tea is getting cold. Let’s go.”
Bianca quickly linked arms with Hannes. Her eyes, smiling at her father, were brimming with confidence that she was the only one who could dare interrupt the Grand Duke.
“Oh, yes, let’s do that.”
The three headed to the reception room. Enria, who had been waiting, greeted Hardius warmly.
A light conversation continued, as if the weather had suddenly gotten colder, amid the rising steam.
The talking was mostly done by Hannes and Bianca. Hardius simply lightened the mood with a few smiles and nods.
Enria quietly observed the two people and then opened her mouth at an appropriate time.
“Oh no, Your Highness.”
"Buh?"
“You must attend a reception at the Royal Academy of Arts later.”
Hannes stared blankly at his wife, then said, “Oh, that’s right,” and jumped up from his seat.
The Grand Duke and his wife exchanged glances as they bid farewell to Hardius and Bianca. When they were left alone again, Bianca couldn't help but burst out laughing.
“Why is everyone acting like that? It was the same last time, and they’re so blatant about calling themselves the Cupid of love...”
Bianca shook her head and glanced at Hardius.
He took a sip of his tea and put it down without a sound. His movements were so natural and unwavering that it seemed almost mechanical.
“Anyway, thank you so much for the gift, I really didn’t expect it.”
Hardius gently curled the corners of his lips. In front of his soulless smile, Bianca felt more heartache than disappointment.
“How about playing a game of chess for once?”
“I wonder?”
Bianca pretended to narrow her eyes and rubbed her chin.
“Hardy, I heard that your skills have improved a lot.”
"Yes?"
“When I was at the convent, my friends often told me about you. Prince Meyer was sweeping the championships in every competition, and you were completely out of your element. Not just in chess, but also in rowing and hunting.”
“I don’t know who they are, but they are exaggerating a lot.”
Hardius answered lightly and smiled coolly.
As she looked at that cold face, she suddenly remembered that day long ago.
A boy standing alone in the freezing cold snow...
She wanted to give him warmth. She wanted to comfort his inner self, which was a mess from all the wounds.
Bianca pretended to be playful, hiding her emotions.
“Yes, then go at it with all your might!”
The match, after five years, ended with Bianca's victory. It was only natural. Hardius was not focused on the game at all and had no interest in the match itself.
His eyes were following the chess pieces, but his head was full of other thoughts.
She was standing with her back to the waves, her short hair pulled back over her ears.
Emilia, who used to smile softly and sparkle in front of the baby seagull, still made Hardius feel dazed even after several days had passed.
Her blue eyes were filled with nothing but complete resignation. Yet, Hardius felt his heart pounding like a child's.
When he returned home after parting ways with Bianca, Hardius heard yet another heart-pounding piece of news.
“Your Excellency, I have received word from the chimney sweeper in Kramwitz. He has identified a prime suspect.”
The heavy, dark clouds of fatigue disappeared, and his mind cleared up.
“Who is it?”
“My name is Jetson.”
“Jetson?”
The moment he asked, the image of an old servant tending to his father's sick body came to Hardius's mind.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, given the circumstances, he is the only one. He said that he has completed all preparations to track down Jetson, so all you have to do is give the order.”
Hardius thought for a moment.
He would have liked to have done it right away. But he shouldn't have rushed too much.
“What is Kunt’s situation?”
“Vermer has started manufacturing stoves, but the progress is expected to be slow due to a lack of manpower.”
"How much?"
“They say it will take at least two months and at most three months.”
A look of fatigue, almost like worry, came over Hardius's face again.
“How long does it take to produce steel in finished form?”
“If only the stove could be manufactured, it could be done within a month. The problem is that a large-scale increase in manpower is needed before that. It wouldn’t be difficult to hire workers under the name of Meyer Steel, but it would be difficult to keep it a secret.”
"Yes."
The goal is to produce steel in the shortest possible time. Only by successfully producing steel can Kramwitz's plan proceed with confidence.
He promised Josef that he would definitely demonstrate a steam locomotive running on steel rails at the Continental Exhibition in Nowak early next year.
If all goes according to plan, by then the tripartite alliance will have begun to unravel, investors will have fled like an ebbing tide, and Meyer Steel will be in unprecedented trouble.
Of course, no one knows that this was young Meyer's strategy to pick out the wheat and the chaff and build his own new world.
He will tear down Mayer with his own hands and raise them up again with his own hands. This is the future that the elaborate gears that Hardius has painstakingly created for a long time will create.
The only weakness in that perfect plan was 'time'. Whenever Hardius was pressed for time like now, he felt himself losing composure and his mind becoming more and more tense.
“Are you okay?”
"Yes?"
“Does anything hurt?”
Ingrid studied the dishwasher's dark face.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
The smile was so obviously forced that Ingrid felt uneasy for some reason.
“...If you’re in pain, don’t hold it in, tell me right away. I’ll give you some rest. I don’t want to find a dead body in my restaurant.”
The moment she finished speaking, Ingrid gasped in surprise.
Why am I like this? Didn't I lose my temper with that kid for no reason a few days ago?
Ingrid coughed to hide her flushed face and turned her eyes back to her ledger.
If the dishwasher showed any sign of resentment, she planned to apologize immediately. But strangely, the person in front of her remained silent for a long time.
Ingrid slowly raised her head. As expected, the dishwasher was still standing there. The only thing that was different from what she expected was the serious look in her eyes, fixed on the ledger.
"Excuse me..."
"Huh?"
“May I ask you something, even though it’s presumptuous of me to do so? It’s written in the ledger.”
She was momentarily dumbfounded by the unexpected words coming out of the dishwasher's mouth.
“I don’t know which potter you bought it from, but something seems wrong. Unless you knew it was a fake and bought it...”
“What.. Do you mean? It’s a counterfeit?”
A moment of embarrassment crossed the dishwasher's face. It was obvious that she thought she had done something presumptuous.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look at it, but I didn’t realize it...”
Ingrid looked back and forth between the blushing dishwasher and her ledger.
“Why do you think I bought a counterfeit?”
“The genuine one has tighter, wavy lines. The hydrangea color is also darker.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Ingrid ran to the scullery and brought out the teacup. When she held it up in the bright sunlight, the finest teacup, made by the Birmingham royal craftsman, looked like a really cheap imitation.
The dishwasher's explanation continued.
“Because Birmingham teacups are so popular, porcelain merchants sometimes sell fakes. That’s why the butlers of noblemen spend a lot of time distinguishing between the real and the fake.”
“Are you sure?”
"Yes."
Ingrid was shocked by the decisive answer.
“But... how do you... Know that?”
Even as she asked that question, Ingrid somehow felt like she knew the answer.
Actually, she thought something was strange from the time she first came here looking for a job.
The white, even teeth and clear skin were by no means those of an ordinary worker.
Was it just his appearance? Anyone who saw her speech, behavior, and personality would agree that she was either a nobleman or a wealthy, well-educated commoner.
Looking at the dishwasher, who had cut off her breathtakingly colored hair and tried to avoid being noticed by people, Ingrid thought of her as a noblewoman who had run away to hide her identity because her family had fallen into ruin.
Whatever the truth, Ingrid had no intention of keeping her around. She was a noblewoman with a story, and she was absolutely unacceptable.
The problem was that the veiled dishwasher was doing a much better job than expected. Ingrid delayed the announcement of the layoff, saying, “Just one more week, just one more week,” as the chef had said, and before she knew it, two months had passed.
The dishwasher, who had been hesitating, opened his mouth again.
“Actually, I once worked at a Baron’s mansion. There, I helped the butler, served tea, and did other things.”
Ingrid was left speechless for a moment because the answer was so unexpected.
***
Emilia, who returned to Scully, felt regret rising from the depths of her heart.
Not only did she steal someone else's account books, but she also gave rash advice.
She shook her head vigorously to shake off her uneasy feelings, and then spent a long time just focusing on washing the dishes.
The moment Emilia finished washing the dishes and got up from her crouching position, she suddenly felt her eyes spinning again. She unconsciously sank to the ground, tightly closing her eyes and waiting for the dizziness to subside.
Am I pushing myself too hard?
You shouldn't overwork yourself like a stepmother and make your child sick.
Should I quit after all?
Emilia had been worrying about the same thing for several days.
The King's grant is enough to last a year even if her mother quits her job at the factory. Mitch is also looking for a job to earn money. There will never be a time when she will resort to private loans like before.
But that didn't mean she could quit work right away.
Emilia had no intention of letting twelve-year-old Mitch do the work.
A child must go to school. Taking a semester off is one thing, but quitting completely is another.
Charlotte was the same. They need to find a school for the blind or a tutor quickly to help her communicate with the world.
More than anything, Emilia wanted to continue working for herself.
She was starting to like this small restaurant, which she had knocked on without any expectations. The owner, Ingrid, was a bit nervous like before, but she was actually a warm and gentle person.
Chef Hellock was the same. He would still swear at the slightest mistake, but on the other hand, wasn't he the kind of person who shared food with her?
Emilia endured the hard times here, making small achievements. She wanted to forget those complicated thoughts from now on.
'You are free. I will be free. And then we start again.'
If that's true...
Now free, Emilia plans to live however she wants for the time being.
***
“What’s the big deal about that banquet? You broke off the engagement and even showed your sincerity by preparing a surprise gift. It’s surprisingly romantic, isn’t it?”
Hannes' eyes, filled with a smile, turned to his daughter. Bianca smiled just the right amount, neither too much nor too little.
“To be honest, I had some feelings of disappointment towards you, but this incident has completely dispelled those feelings.”
Hannes continued, patting Hardius on the shoulder.
“You will understand when you have a daughter. I mean, the heart of a father who has a daughter. Even if it is a marriage by alliance, I want to marry my daughter to the man who cherishes her the most in the world...”
“Father, the tea is getting cold. Let’s go.”
Bianca quickly linked arms with Hannes. Her eyes, smiling at her father, were brimming with confidence that she was the only one who could dare interrupt the Grand Duke.
“Oh, yes, let’s do that.”
The three headed to the reception room. Enria, who had been waiting, greeted Hardius warmly.
A light conversation continued, as if the weather had suddenly gotten colder, amid the rising steam.
The talking was mostly done by Hannes and Bianca. Hardius simply lightened the mood with a few smiles and nods.
Enria quietly observed the two people and then opened her mouth at an appropriate time.
“Oh no, Your Highness.”
"Buh?"
“You must attend a reception at the Royal Academy of Arts later.”
Hannes stared blankly at his wife, then said, “Oh, that’s right,” and jumped up from his seat.
The Grand Duke and his wife exchanged glances as they bid farewell to Hardius and Bianca. When they were left alone again, Bianca couldn't help but burst out laughing.
“Why is everyone acting like that? It was the same last time, and they’re so blatant about calling themselves the Cupid of love...”
Bianca shook her head and glanced at Hardius.
He took a sip of his tea and put it down without a sound. His movements were so natural and unwavering that it seemed almost mechanical.
“Anyway, thank you so much for the gift, I really didn’t expect it.”
Hardius gently curled the corners of his lips. In front of his soulless smile, Bianca felt more heartache than disappointment.
“How about playing a game of chess for once?”
“I wonder?”
Bianca pretended to narrow her eyes and rubbed her chin.
“Hardy, I heard that your skills have improved a lot.”
"Yes?"
“When I was at the convent, my friends often told me about you. Prince Meyer was sweeping the championships in every competition, and you were completely out of your element. Not just in chess, but also in rowing and hunting.”
“I don’t know who they are, but they are exaggerating a lot.”
Hardius answered lightly and smiled coolly.
As she looked at that cold face, she suddenly remembered that day long ago.
A boy standing alone in the freezing cold snow...
She wanted to give him warmth. She wanted to comfort his inner self, which was a mess from all the wounds.
Bianca pretended to be playful, hiding her emotions.
“Yes, then go at it with all your might!”
***
The match, after five years, ended with Bianca's victory. It was only natural. Hardius was not focused on the game at all and had no interest in the match itself.
His eyes were following the chess pieces, but his head was full of other thoughts.
She was standing with her back to the waves, her short hair pulled back over her ears.
Emilia, who used to smile softly and sparkle in front of the baby seagull, still made Hardius feel dazed even after several days had passed.
Her blue eyes were filled with nothing but complete resignation. Yet, Hardius felt his heart pounding like a child's.
When he returned home after parting ways with Bianca, Hardius heard yet another heart-pounding piece of news.
“Your Excellency, I have received word from the chimney sweeper in Kramwitz. He has identified a prime suspect.”
The heavy, dark clouds of fatigue disappeared, and his mind cleared up.
“Who is it?”
“My name is Jetson.”
“Jetson?”
The moment he asked, the image of an old servant tending to his father's sick body came to Hardius's mind.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, given the circumstances, he is the only one. He said that he has completed all preparations to track down Jetson, so all you have to do is give the order.”
Hardius thought for a moment.
He would have liked to have done it right away. But he shouldn't have rushed too much.
“What is Kunt’s situation?”
“Vermer has started manufacturing stoves, but the progress is expected to be slow due to a lack of manpower.”
"How much?"
“They say it will take at least two months and at most three months.”
A look of fatigue, almost like worry, came over Hardius's face again.
“How long does it take to produce steel in finished form?”
“If only the stove could be manufactured, it could be done within a month. The problem is that a large-scale increase in manpower is needed before that. It wouldn’t be difficult to hire workers under the name of Meyer Steel, but it would be difficult to keep it a secret.”
"Yes."
The goal is to produce steel in the shortest possible time. Only by successfully producing steel can Kramwitz's plan proceed with confidence.
He promised Josef that he would definitely demonstrate a steam locomotive running on steel rails at the Continental Exhibition in Nowak early next year.
If all goes according to plan, by then the tripartite alliance will have begun to unravel, investors will have fled like an ebbing tide, and Meyer Steel will be in unprecedented trouble.
Of course, no one knows that this was young Meyer's strategy to pick out the wheat and the chaff and build his own new world.
He will tear down Mayer with his own hands and raise them up again with his own hands. This is the future that the elaborate gears that Hardius has painstakingly created for a long time will create.
The only weakness in that perfect plan was 'time'. Whenever Hardius was pressed for time like now, he felt himself losing composure and his mind becoming more and more tense.
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