The Happy Days of Being a Factory Owner in London – Chapter 15
by MonoJewelry
Making money!
The current time was 8:00 PM.
After repeated persuasion from Holmes and Watson, Arna had finally, with great regret, left her 9999-damage Golden Sword in her room before heading out.
She had tried puzzle games before, but she never really had the patience to play them through. In the end, all the puzzle games in her library just gathered dust in her inventory.
—But playing those games alone was completely different from teaming up with a top-tier teammate and enjoying the feeling of being carried to an effortless victory1, right?
After all, a pro was a pro because even in a trash-collecting game, if their noob teammate accidentally smashed the most valuable treasure, the pro could still scrape together enough money to pay the fee just by hunting monsters!
Thinking of this, Arna swelled with confidence.
“Are you sure we can solve… um… the Viscountess’s problem tonight, right?” she asked, trying to recall the details he had just mentioned. “Something about blackmail and stolen jewelry?”
Holmes walked briskly down Baker Street, the gas lamps intermittently illuminating his sharp profile.
“Sure?” He scoffed. “My dear Aisas, ‘certainty’ is a word for those lacking imagination. But if you must ask—yes, we will resolve everything tonight.”
He led Arna down a side road. Like anyone intimately familiar with London’s uneven terrain, he guided her on a detour into a pitch-black alleyway.
The buildings on either side seemed to be pubs; the clamor of voices could be heard faintly through the walls, accompanied by the barely-there strains of a playing violin.
“The one who requested Lestrade’s help is Viscount Luseby,” he murmured. “Naturally, the stolen jewelry involves the Viscountess. It was the most precious item in her dowry—a priceless emerald.”
Arna held her breath. Her vision clouded with the imaginary sparkle of jewels, she quickly interrupted, “How much is ‘priceless’?”
Should I get a little greedy?
What belongs to the player is the player’s!
Holmes reached out and flicked her forehead hard, earning an “Ouch!” from Arna.
“Three thousand pounds,” he said. “Don’t even think about it.”
Clutching her forehead, Arna huffed in displeasure.
“I get it, fine, keep going,” she said listlessly.
“The one helping an outsider blackmail the couple is the Viscountess’s former maid, currently employed by the Viscount’s political rival,” Holmes said, glancing at Arna. “A cliché plot, really.”
He adjusted his gloves. “According to my analysis, under the cover of the Viscountess hosting a gathering tonight, the maid will have a rendezvous with her employer near the greenhouse. She needs to prove her worth, so she will bring the jewelry.”
“So?” Having completely failed to follow his analysis, Arna asked honestly, “What do I need to do?”
“All you need to do is disguise yourself as a newly hired servant and help me intercept the maid,” Holmes explained, striding forward. “We have ten minutes. Luseby’s staff is expecting us.”
He pushed open a gate, revealing the Viscount’s enormous estate garden behind it. “The moment you go in and spot her, stop her. Once the blackmailer arrives, I’ll deal with him.”
Arna’s eyes glinted fiercely, understanding dawning. “Got it.”
Her hand was already reaching for the zipper of her backpack, where her Golden Axe gleamed within.
Holmes was speaking with the butler. He took a set of clothes from the man. “Change into this, and then—”
Under the butler’s horrified gaze, he turned around and asked dryly, “When exactly did you bring that bag?”
Arna didn’t bat an eye, perfectly composed. “The bag has always been here.”
Under Holmes’s sustained stare, Arna was forced to hand her bag over to the butler for safekeeping, before hastily throwing on the clothes handed to her.
“Good,” Holmes finally seemed satisfied. “Let’s leave it at that. Stop her using whatever method you please. Bribe her, threaten her, flirt with her…”
He paused. “Though, preferably, avoid excessive force.”
With a blink, Holmes added, “Of course, if it is unavoidable, I would recommend aiming for the knees. Prevents the criminal from running too fast.”
With that, he waved his hand and swiftly slipped away through another small side door, as agile as a hound catching the scent of a hare.
Arna, meanwhile, was led by the butler toward the greenhouse, where she began searching for the suspicious maid.
Strolling around the greenhouse, her attention was soon drawn to the fish and shiny coins in a fountain, and she shuffled over with small steps.
So much money! So many pence! There were even several coins giving off a dazzling golden gleam—clearly very expensive.
Just then, a hurried woman rushed over from another direction, crashing right into Arna with a thud.
The velvet handbag in the woman’s grip went flying, striking the fountain’s central sculpture. A shower of items spilled out, clattering down to the very bottom of the fountain pool.
Knocked into a roll, Arna stood up dizzily and obligingly helped up the woman who had tumbled alongside her.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
The woman was petite with dark eyes. She stumbled a step back.
Up close, she couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Beneath her carefully styled curls, her face was deathly pale.
“I—thank you,” she said tightly. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”
Her eyes kept darting toward the pool; she looked desperate to fish out whatever had fallen in. “Are you new here?”
“Yeah, I am,” Arna said, following her gaze into the fountain pool. She could vaguely make out a glint of green. “…Need some help?”
Realizing Arna was also looking at her dropped items, the maid’s fingers twitched instinctively. Then she caught herself, forcing out a fragile laugh.
“Ah, that’s my… lavender sachet,” she stammered. “For my nerves. It’s not important.”
Arna blinked, overjoyed.
She practically flew over to the fountain edge, plunged her hand into the water, and easily retrieved the cold, hard emerald.
“Well, then this definitely isn’t what you dropped,” Arna said, holding up the gemstone in satisfaction. “Mine now.”
Three thousand pounds! Three thousand!
The maid lunged at her with frantic speed, but Arna hid her hands behind her back, expertly dodging the frenzied woman.
“Didn’t you just say this wasn’t yours?” she said righteously. “What, are you trying to rob me?”
“Give it back,” the maid hissed, her voice trembling. “Please. You don’t understand—if I don’t follow through, he’ll kill me—”
“Kill who?” Holmes popped out from the shadows. “Regardless of who it is, I’m afraid that plan is no longer viable.”
He pressed the tip of his cane into the blackmailer’s back, shoving the man forward. “A farcical little play.”
With that, he freed one hand and held it out, palm open toward Arna.
Clinging tight to the gem, Arna looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. “…Can I really not…”
Holmes stared at her, saying nothing.
Arna gave up.
Fine, quest items cannot be kept… Damn game devs!
Sorrowfully, she handed the emerald over to Holmes, feeling as though a piece of her soul had flown away alongside the three thousand pounds.
Holmes dropped the gem into his pocket and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He turned to the maid, his voice dropping to a softer, gentler pitch. “As for you—the Viscountess has agreed not to press charges, provided you stand as a witness in court to identify this man.”
He shoved the blackmailer, who looked even more wilted now.
The maid’s eyes widened.
Looking stunned, she glanced at Arna, then at Holmes, before finally covering her face and bursting into tears.
Faced with this display, Holmes looked somewhat panicked.
He shot frantic pointed looks at Arna, elbowing her to signal that she should hurry up and comfort the woman.
Arna floated back from the daze of having tragically lost three thousand pounds.
“There, there,” Arna said, patting her shoulder with genuine sympathy born of shared suffering. “At least today we both lost a gem worth three thousand pounds. You aren’t alone. Feel better now?”
Over the maid’s even louder wails, Arna shut her mouth, while Holmes shot her a warning glare.
They waited until the police arrived to take the blackmailer away. A while later, the butler who was supposed to come retrieve the emerald still hadn’t shown up.
Guessing the Viscountess’s intentions, Holmes could only sigh. “Very well. It seems we must deliver this gem in person.”
So saying, he led Arna down a different path.
Arna engaged her brain, which was exceptionally sharp when it came to gossip.
“The Viscountess?” she said instantly. “…The one who has a crush on Watson?”
Holmes stumbled over his own feet.
“Er, ah. Yes,” he cleared his throat. “Including inquiring whether his medical services covered the treatment of loneliness.”
Ahead, the gilded doors of the main drawing room loomed into view. Holmes finally stopped, offering a sly little smile.
“She even mentioned keeping an autographed portrait of the Queen on her nightstand,” he murmured. “Our poor doctor nearly swallowed his own tongue when he heard that.”
Arna’s eyes widened.
Before she could reply, the door opened from the inside, revealing a magnificently dressed woman wearing a spray of ostrich feathers in her hair.
“It seems she was waiting for us,” Holmes murmured under his breath, before offering a dramatic bow.
“My esteemed lady,” he said aloud. “The safety of your emerald has been secured, and that poor maid has agreed to continue in your employ. Might we impose upon you for just a moment? My companion seems to have accidentally dampened his sleeves in the garden.”
The Viscountess’s gaze slid toward Arna, admiring the stranger—a blonde young man looking endearingly disheveled.
Then, for some inexplicable reason, her gaze softened significantly.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she sighed, reaching out to pat Arna’s cheek. “Come inside at once.”
Holmes’s eyebrows gave an upward twitch. Meanwhile, Arna, whose arm was now firmly in the woman’s grasp, looked around in bewilderment, glancing down to see her sleeves that were already mostly dry.
…Go inside for what? To get them wet again?
Noting her confusion, the Viscountess shook her head and led her into a luxurious dressing room, gently pulling the door shut behind her.
Arna opened the wardrobe.
Arna saw a massive mountain of clothing.
Arna’s eyes went wide as sudden realization struck.
A short while later, she emerged from the dressing room, chest puffed out and head held high.
The Viscountess, waiting off to the side, looked the newly dressed Arna up and down with decent satisfaction.
“So exquisite. It suits you wonderfully,” she mused. Reaching out, she helped adjust Arna’s collar, then produced a delicate little brooch from her pocket and pinned it on for her—though her fingers lingered near Arna’s collarbone for a suspiciously long time. “You absolutely must dine with me next Thursday. I have a new batch of Venetian silk that could dress you up even more handsomely.”
Arna’s eyes bugged out. Flustered, she cast a helpless look at Holmes.
W-Why did this feel wrong? This didn’t seem like a standard quest-reward cutscene!
Holmes was lounging by the sofa near the drawing room fireplace, warming himself like a thoroughly contented cat that had just swallowed a cake, plate and all.
Meeting Arna’s gaze, he gave a cough—a sound that closely resembled someone biting their tongue to hold back laughter.
Or, scratch the “closely resembled”; he was literally just stifling laughter.
Under the Viscountess’s burning stare, Arna bit the bullet. “…It would be my honor, Madam.”
She haphazardly mumbled a few more pleasantries, grabbed the backpack the butler had returned, and dragged Holmes with her as she fled into the vast cover of night.
Even in such an awkward situation, Holmes’s mouth couldn’t remain idle.
“Well, that was highly educational,” he said with utter solemnity. “Still want the emerald?”
“Shut up,” Arna muttered. She was currently wrestling with her clothes, trying to unpin the expensive brooch the Viscountess had affixed to her chest.
“I haven’t said a word.”
“You’re breathing smugly.”
At that accusation, Holmes finally burst out laughing.
“Look on the bright side,” he said, tossing his pocket watch into the air and catching it effortlessly. “For instance, your patent fees are now secured, you have a new admirer in high society, and…”
“And the time hasn’t even hit 1:00 AM yet,” Arna interrupted, her gaze landing on his pocket watch. Her attention had completely shifted.
She rummaged through her backpack and, to Holmes’s utter shock, pulled out a fishing rod.
“Wait for me a sec.” Brimming with confidence, Arna—who just happened to be passing near the river—found a spot and sat right down. “I have a hunch I’ll pull in a great catch here!”
Since the case was solved and there was nothing else to do, Holmes simply sat down beside her.
“Very well, my friend. Not a problem,” he joked. “I suppose fish fillet porridge wouldn’t be a bad choice for breakfast tomorrow.”
Half an hour later.
Watching Arna fish up river clams one after another—and finally haul in a heavy box—Holmes, who was sitting to the side using a penknife to pry open clams to check for pearls, fell entirely silent.
From the clams, they extracted a total of nine small, iridescent pearls. The heavy box contained several gold nuggets that looked rather ancient, likely lost in the river by someone ages ago.
The total value already far exceeded the money they had earned from toiling over the case for half the night.
“Mega loot!” With the time on the pocket watch hitting exactly 1:40 AM, Arna cheerfully announced, “Let’s call it a night!”
Remembering that Holmes was also quite poor, and that she hadn’t given him a gift yet this week, she generously tossed a chunk of gold to him. “Take it and spend it. Don’t be shy.”
Holmes stared at the gold, then stared at Arna, before finally turning his gaze to the fishing rod—looking at it as if it were a magic wand that outright defied physics.
“I have spent years perfecting the science of deduction,” he said slowly. “And you have surpassed it with folk wisdom and a stick.”
Arna glanced at her fishing rod, then tossed another pearl his way.
“The stick is also for sale,” she offered, quoting an exorbitant price2 like a true swindler. “For my aunt’s sake—a flat rate of two hundred pounds a piece.”
Holmes burst into laughter and caught the pearl.
The author has something to say:
Alright, finally solved the problem of having no money for the patent applications…
I updated 4,000 words today! Hurry and praise my diligence!
0 Comments