The Happy Days of Being a Factory Owner in London – Chapter 17

Repetition

So many people!

After pouring everything out, Lucy lowered her head, her heart filled with trepidation.

            

She knew Mr. Aisas usually had a decent relationship with Miss Nancy—one might even say it was quite good.

Miss Nancy was dedicated and responsible. She treated the apprentices very well, rarely resorting to corporal punishment; at most, she would smack their palms a few times or make them stand in the corner for an hour, and even then, it was only aimed at the children who occasionally misbehaved.

Lucy had also been on the receiving end of Miss Nancy’s care, which made her feel a pang of shame when she spoke up.

            

Would Mr. Aisas believe her? Believe someone who couldn’t read and could barely spell her own name before she was hired?

Lucy didn’t know.

A moment passed. The room remained silent, save for the rustle of paper blowing in the draft.

            

Her nerves stretched taut, Lucy misinterpreted Mr. Aisas’s silence.

“I’m not lying!” she rasped, a reckless desperation seeping into her voice. “I heard them clearly—”

The moment she looked up, her eyes widened.

            

The sound hadn’t been the rustle of paper at all. It was Mr. Aisas, chewing on a piece of bread that had been sun-dried until it was as hard as a rock.

But… but that’s a decoration! It’s been air-dried for ages! Not even a rat could sink its teeth into that! She had only brought it over for show; she hadn’t actually expected Mr. Aisas to eat it!

“Mhm, I know,” Arna said indistinctly. She swallowed the sawdust-like breadcrumbs and watched with satisfaction as her Stamina ticked up slightly.

            

Seeing Lucy looking at her as if she had seen a ghost, Arna paused. “…What is it?”

Lucy didn’t speak. Her eyes were fixed blankly on Arna’s now-empty hand.

After pondering for a moment, realization dawned on Arna. “Are you hungry too?”

            

As she spoke, she turned and opened the safe. “Good thing I keep plenty of food in here…”

For the first time, Lucy laid eyes on the legendary safe rumored to hold countless treasures.

It was practically overflowing with a messy assortment of items. Many of them were parcels of food wrapped in brown paper, while a gleaming Golden Axe, Golden Sword, and Golden Pickaxe were shoved into a tiny corner at the very back.

            

She was utterly dumbfounded.

Who on earth would forge the most valuable gold into tools like these, only to cram them in with a pile of random food?

Seeing Lucy’s flabbergasted expression, Arna didn’t think anything was amiss.

            

She knew a bit about the circumstances of this era. The poor child probably hadn’t seen much good food growing up and was simply stunned by the sight.

At that thought, Arna reached out and tossed a paper bag containing a pie into Lucy’s arms.

Filled with complex emotions, Lucy reflexively hugged it to her chest to keep it from falling.

            

Looking down, she saw that it was indeed a small parcel of food, faintly exuding the rich aroma of grease. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to feel moved or amused.

I suppose in Mr. Aisas’s heart, those golden tools aren’t nearly as important as the food piled on top.

“All right, go downstairs and eat,” Arna said rather generously, adding a word of comfort. “I’m aware of the rest. You don’t need to worry.”

            

She thought very highly of this employee, who had always been diligent and consistently produced high-quality goods.

Lucy nodded and turned around, ready to leave.

But as she reached the door, she asked softly, “…The factory isn’t going to close down, and you aren’t going to go bankrupt. Right, Mr. Aisas?”

            

Arna, who had just picked up her cup to wet her throat, choked on her water.

“…Wait,” she said in disbelief. “Who said I was going bankrupt?”

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Arna had never imagined that just because she’d slacked off for a few days and hadn’t gone out to earn extra cash, people would start spreading baseless rumors that her factory was on the verge of collapse.

            

After sending Lucy off, she slumped back in her chair and heaved a profound sigh.

Even though Fagin’s gang had taken the bait—which meant she had achieved her original goal—why did she still feel so incredibly annoyed?

With that in mind, Arna decided to go out for a spin.

            

Arna successfully retrieved her carriage. Sitting on the driver’s bench with the reins in hand, she pondered where to go for her ride.

Before she could decide, a small figure darted up beside her.

The Artful Dodger, smiling cheekily, plopped down next to her, his hat perched at a rakish angle on his head. “Young Mr. Aisas, my good, kind gentleman, I beg you to give me a lift! I just asked Miss Nancy for some time off to buy a pair of socks. Mine are torn to shreds; they can’t even be mended.”

            

He blinked, his tone quite amusing. “I’ve ridden in carriages before, but I’ve never ridden in one driven by a proper gentleman!”

Arna looked at him silently. Recalling Watson’s previous riding experience, she kindly asked him one more time to be sure. “Are you certain?”

The Dodger hadn’t come just for a simple carriage ride; he had ulterior motives. Naturally, he wasn’t going to ruin his own setup now.

            

“Of course, sir!” He whistled. “Let’s set off!”

Arna lightly flicked the reins. The horse, which had already built up a tacit understanding with her over this period, began to move forward. The carriage jolted ahead, its wheels clattering against the uneven cobblestones.

“Where should I drop you off?” she asked. “I’ve never been to a sock shop. You’ll have to tell me the exact location.”

            

The Dodger gripped the seat. For a moment, he fell silent, and his habitual bravado vanished without a trace.

Then, he spoke. “Listen, sir, I ain’t one to snitch, but I’ve got to tell you something. I’m guessing Oliver already told you about Fagin right at the start, didn’t he? Fagin’s gone mad.”

Arna’s eyes widened, and she subconsciously slowed the carriage down.

            

…What’s going on? Did I just trigger two informant events?

“Saturday night, Fagin and the others are planning to knock you out. While the rest are busy clearing out your safe, Nancy’s going to slip a bit of sleeping powder into your cup.” The Dodger didn’t notice Arna’s expression. He pulled a face and continued. “But she ain’t exactly… enthusiastic about it. Sikes made her agree.”

The Dodger’s voice dropped, uncharacteristically serious.

            

“She’s scared, Aisas. Afraid that I, or the others—at least half of us don’t even want to do this, whether you know it or not,” he sighed. “But Fagin’s trying to make us look at you like a fat cat.”

He wiped his face with one hand. Suddenly, the cocky, full-of-himself lad was gone; he looked like nothing more than a tired, exhausted boy.

“I know, I might be too soft, not tough enough… but you gave us beds, blankets, and a trough big enough to keep us fed.” He was conflicted. “It ain’t right to bite the hand that’s trying to feed us.”

            

Arna looked at the boy and patted his shoulder.

“I know,” she said, sounding quite relaxed. “You don’t need to worry about this.”

The Dodger’s eyes went wide. “Then how are you going to…” Deal with them?

            

Before he could finish his sentence, Arna let out a loud, piercing whistle.

Hearing the sound, the horse immediately let out a loud whinny in response and abruptly accelerated.

The Dodger let out a sharp yell as the carriage suddenly lunged forward. Heart pounding, he gripped the side railing, his hat nearly flying off.

            

“Ah! Warn a bloke before you do that next time!” he shouted over the roar of the speeding carriage. “Or are you planning to kill me before that lot even finds out?”

Arna ignored him, instead urging the carriage onward faster and faster. “What’s the fun in a warning?”

She even equipped the Title she had acquired last time, directly boosting the carriage’s speed by five percent.

            

“That’s wicked!” the Dodger accused. But amidst the blistering speed, he was torn between maintaining his terror and letting a grudging smile break through.

The wind tugged at the oversized sleeves of the Dodger’s coat as if on purpose, knocking him this way and that. The city’s shops and pedestrians flashed past his eyes in a blur, as though he had thrown everything away, leaving behind nothing but a profound, relieving lightness.

Though Arna hadn’t said a word to encourage him, he found a measure of comfort in this reckless act.

            

He couldn’t explain it, but it felt good.

The wind brushing against his face carried the salty tang of the River Thames¹. Suddenly, the Dodger began to laugh.

His expression relaxed, becoming much more carefree. “You’ve definitely got a plan in mind, ain’t you, sir?”

            

Arna beamed. “But I don’t plan on telling you.”

“That’s alright, I don’t want to hear it anyway.” The overly mature boy shrugged and hopped off the carriage as it began to slow down. “I’m off! Really going to buy socks now.”

Upon landing, he expertly caught himself with both hands and rolled to his feet. “See you at the factory tonight!”

            

With that, he patted the dust off his trouser legs and sauntered away as if nothing had happened, acting as though he hadn’t just exposed a terrifying secret.

Watching his breezy departure, Arna couldn’t help but laugh as well.

She parked the carriage near the riverbank, leisurely pulled out her Fishing Rod and Bucket, and began to fish.

            

Her luck was good today as well; before long, her Bucket was filled to the brim.

Figuring it was getting close to noon, Arna picked up the sloshing Bucket and climbed back onto the carriage.

Perfect. She would split off half to give the kids an extra meal and send the rest back to Baker Street.

            

When Arna walked into the kitchen carrying the fish, a wave of fragrant aromas washed over her face.

The scent of butter was incredibly rich. She couldn’t resist taking a few extra sniffs, feeling as though her stomach were a little fuller just from the smell alone.

“Are we having extra portions today? Mr. Aisas, you are too generous.” Mrs. Laura, the cook, praised the lavishness of the lunch. “You know, there aren’t many factory owners in the East End as generous as you! It is truly an honor to work for you here.”

            

She took the fish and began to expertly slit their bellies open, scoop out the innards, and proceed with marinating them.

Arna felt light and airy from the praise. “It’s nothing, really. A minor thing.”

She washed her hands in a wooden basin off to the side. She was halfway through when a small voice piped up nearby.

            

“Mr. Aisas?”

Arna lifted her head and looked over.

Oliver, who always liked to come over and help at this hour, was standing in the doorway. He was wringing his hands beneath the hem of an oversized apron, and his face looked rather pale.

            

His eyes darted from Mrs. Laura to Arna, his expression pleading.

“I’m not… not interrupting, am I?” he stammered. “I have something I want to tell Mr. Aisas.”

Arna: …It couldn’t be the thing I’m thinking of, could it?

            

Harboring a sudden suspicion toward the game Developers, she dried her hands and pointed to the storage room next door. “Let’s go.”

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Oliver spoke.

“Fagin is planning something. He’s making the children stir up trouble, and Nancy—” He swallowed hard. “I think she might be helping him.”

            

It really was that.

Arna rubbed her forehead, nursing a mounting headache.

Developers, could you be any lazier? This is the third time the informant storyline has triggered!

            

She knew that maxing out Favorability would trigger a special event… but what kind of game made all of its NPCs’ special events revolve around snitching?

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The author has something to say:

A friend’s sharp critique: Yes there is, yes there is, the 1984 simulator is exactly that.

            

Me: That’s actually true…

By the way, the “1984 simulator” refers to the game 《Beholder》, where the protagonist gets rich by snitching…

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