The Happy Days of Being a Factory Owner in London – Chapter 3

Hygiene

Blind Box Fun!

What do you do when the starter village’s residential building spontaneously combusts?

            

So long as the player can prevent the free housing from burning to a crisp and triggering an “uninhabitable” ending, they won’t willingly fork over tokens to rent a room.

The situation was urgent. Arna found the door unlocked and pushed her way in without a second thought, racing up the left-hand staircase.

Spotting a bucket of water on the second floor, she grabbed it and hurled its contents onto a table that was belching thick smoke and on the verge of being burnt to a cinder.

            

The water made instant contact with the unknown mixture on the table, producing a sizzle like meat on a hot griddle. A great cloud of grey-white smoke billowed out. Though the fire was extinguished, the fumes sent Arna into a fit of coughing.

“What on earth are you people playing with fire for?” she couldn’t help but complain. “I—cough, cough, cough!”

When will these NPCs learn to be more sensible? Why must they constantly court disaster just to generate jobs and quests for the player?

            

Sometimes, a player really just wants to be unemployed.

A hand reached out from the side and yanked her forcefully toward the window.

A flood of fresh air rushed in, stabilizing her rapidly dropping health points. The negative status effect from the coughing hadn’t disappeared yet, however, so she couldn’t stop.

            

Arna squinted, trying to see who had pulled her over through a vision blurred by tears.

“Nitroglycerin¹, evidently. I added a bit too much of certain materials, but my overall approach was correct,” a capable-looking young man in an apron replied, letting out a few coughs of his own that sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Watson? Watson? Did you get that down?”

He had a pair of exceptionally alert grey eyes, was tall and thin, and his black hair was somewhat dishevelled.

            

“Good heavens,” said the other man, addressed as Watson, who was standing nearby, coughing and laughing as he clutched a pen. “To cause this kind of accident in the living room the moment we get back… Holmes, Mrs. Hudson is going to throw us out one of these days—”

He took a moment to recover before poking his head out to check the situation. “Excellent. We haven’t attracted the fire brigade².”

“They likely have other matters to attend to, the gardens in the West End, for instance, if I’m not mistaken,” Holmes said, flicking a bit of dust from his cuff. “Mrs. Hudson? At this hour, she’s still at the little market near the church. One can occasionally find cheap, fresh fish there at this time.”

            

His sharp gaze swept over the person before him. “As for this bucket-wielding gentleman—”

“Quick reflexes, nimble movements,” he commented, casually picking up a test tube that had fallen to the floor. “A soldier? A firefighter? Or simply a meddlesome passer-by?”

Arna, who had been furiously mashing the interaction key on the curtains, turned her head.

            

She instinctively began to recite her all-purpose line: “I’m looking for—” my aunt.

Before this stranger could state her purpose, Holmes made a gesture, cutting her off.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no, my friend. Don’t speak just yet.”

            

Arna: ?

This was the first time she’d encountered an NPC who so thoroughly refused to play by the rules. The question marks in her brain were about to overflow and float into the air.

The young man named Holmes squatted down, then stood up again, circling her several times before stating with conviction:

            

“It seems you must be the relative Mrs. Hudson has been talking about for nearly a week, Arna Aisas. Am I correct…” He glanced at her attire. “…sir?”

The colour of the mud on the boots, the train ticket about to fall out of a pocket, and the unmistakable Yorkshire accent³… Evidently, this was the “nephew” who had come to stay with Mrs. Hudson.

Arna: !! Finally, the right place! She knew it. Normally, as long as she gave her “aunt’s” name, the NPCs should recognize it.

            

She nodded and said with relief, “Yes, I’m looking for my aunt.”

This time, it was Holmes’s turn to be surprised.

“Aren’t you curious how I deduced that?” he said.

            

“Not curious,” Arna said, perfectly justified.

The underlying code is right there. It’s only normal that you’d recognize me.

After all, the player is the centre of the universe! The almighty saviour! It’s perfectly natural for an NPC to recognize the player as the protagonist… not to mention that these two NPCs’ names were clearly Easter eggs.

            

Seeing Holmes struck speechless, as if he’d choked on something, Watson, who had been enjoying the show from the sidelines, began to laugh. He found this a rare spectacle indeed.

“I’m John Watson. It seems you’re to be the third tenant at 221B. Mrs. Hudson has been looking forward to your arrival for a long time. She said you were a fine, hard-working young man,” he said amicably, extending a hand to the somewhat familiar-looking newcomer. “Holmes just has this peculiar temperament. Of course, if you ask me, it’s part of his profession.”

Holmes grunted noncommittally at this assessment.

            

He nodded at Arna. “Sherlock Holmes.”

Arna blinked, watching as their names gradually appeared above their heads. She glanced at her friend-or-foe map.

Just as she’d thought. Not only were they Easter eggs, but they were also bona fide Green-name NPCs. She had swiftly made new friends—two of them!

            

Faced with Watson’s outstretched hand, she was a little surprised at how proactive this NPC was about receiving a gift, but not overly so.

Arna expertly rummaged through her full backpack and quickly placed something she had picked up into Watson’s palm.

Of course, to be fair and raise friendship levels, she stuffed a second item into Holmes’s hand with the same incredible speed.

            

Watson, who had been expecting a friendly handshake: “…Hm?”

He instinctively closed his fingers to keep the object from falling, then turned his hand over to look at his palm.

It was a slightly rusty gear, which explained the cold sensation.

            

…But what… what was this? Was this some sort of regional custom from Yorkshire?

“Thank you?” he said, stunned.

Seeing that the two NPCs’ friendship levels had indeed risen, Arna was quite satisfied. “You’re welcome.”

            

She strolled around the living room as if no one else were there and asked casually, “The kitchen is downstairs, right?”

“Ah, yes. But…” Before Watson could finish, he saw Arna rush downstairs with his large bundle.

He was silent for a moment before managing to say, “It seems our new friend is a bit impetuous.”

            

Holmes replied leisurely, “I believe what you meant to say was, ‘Perhaps even more peculiar than my old friend’.”

He was still wearing the grey apron, nestled in an armchair and studying a crumpled newspaper.

—Wait, where did he get a newspaper?

            

“A welcome gift from our new friend. Last, last week’s Leeds Mercury⁴,” Holmes said, shaking out the paper. He folded the precious clue and put it away, looking to be in a very good mood. “And the advertisement in the corner of the third page is still intact.”

As it happened, a point of suspicion in a new case they had taken on that afternoon could be linked to this very newspaper.

“It seems we’re in luck, aren’t we?” Watson joked.

            

He placed the gear he was holding on a bookshelf, picked up the broom and rag himself, and began to clean the trashed living room.

As he was sweeping, he slapped his forehead, finally remembering where he had seen their new friend before.

“Holmes, you’ll never believe it. The person selling sandwiches on the train today was this very Mr. Aisas,” he mused. “I kept thinking I’d seen him somewhere before. Turns out I bought food from him.”

            

“Oh, that. I actually noticed it the moment I saw him,” his companion said idly. “But since neither you nor he inquired about the specific reasoning process…”

Sherlock Holmes trailed off, a sly smile on his face.

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While the two men were talking upstairs, Arna was still unpacking her bundle, taking out some of the supplies she had just gathered.

            

The cupboards were locked and she couldn’t open them, so she simply placed everything on the kitchen counter.

Some vegetables—mainly lettuce, potatoes, and onions—as well as a small bag of oats.

Just as she was busying herself, footsteps sounded at the door, followed by the sound of it being pushed open.

            

Arna looked up to see an old woman with her silver-white hair tied in a bun. She wore a bonnet and was carrying a basket, staring at Arna in a daze.

Her face was round and bore a slight resemblance to Arna’s current appearance. As she looked at her, her eyes seemed to shimmer with moisture.

“Oh my, you’re here,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I… I went out to buy some groceries. I didn’t expect you to arrive so early.”

            

She set her basket aside and embraced her, saying gently, “It’s been too long, my dear Arna.”

The sudden intimate contact left Arna at a loss.

She instinctively wanted to push the stranger away, but her arms automatically wrapped around the kind, elderly woman. She was almost afraid the woman was so thin she might slip through her arms and fall to the floor.

            

Those wretched developers always know how to make a player’s heart melt.

“Aunt,” the words slipped from her mouth without thinking. “Long time no see.”

And so she spent the entire evening in the kitchen, busily chatting with her NPC aunt, cooking, and tidying up.

            

For dinner, they made Shepherd’s Pie⁵. Arna unlocked a new recipe, put the semi-finished mixture of beef and mashed potatoes into the oven, and then, holding a cup of tea poured for her by Mrs. Hudson herself, followed her aunt around until she was laughingly shooed away for “getting in the way.”

…She was clearly trying her best to help! It wasn’t her fault the things in this kitchen were so hard to use!

“It’s not your fault,” Watson consoled her. “After all, compared to the spacious countryside, kitchens in London apartments are a bit small.”

            

Arna shot a resentful look at Watson, who was reading a book, then at Holmes, who was staring into the void, lost in thought.

She had just learned during their chat that both of her housemates did indeed have jobs.

John Watson was a retired army doctor⁶ who currently provided medical services to local residents, occasionally making house calls.

            

—Hopefully, when I collapse from exhaustion, this doctor will go easy on the consultation fee.

Sherlock Holmes was a consulting detective⁷. His daily work mainly consisted of receiving clients and solving their cases. He was moderately famous.

—This Easter egg is surprisingly detailed.

            

Downing the tea-and-milk mixture in her cup in one go, Arna stood up and got to work.

Washing dishes and utensils, sweeping the kitchen, cleaning the counters and cupboards—that wasn’t enough. She even cleaned the entire house in the dark.

Discovered: several spiders.
Discovered: several unknown insects.
Discovered: one old book.
Discovered: several scraps.
Discovered: one strange golden button.
Discovered: ten pence, one shilling, and five pounds.

            

Arna worked until 1:50 in the morning before she reluctantly put down her cleaning rag and bucket, lay down on the bed, and prepared to sleep.

She grimly reflected on the fact that she had wasted an entire evening on cleaning. After all, she hadn’t earned a single penny—the money she’d found was what Holmes had dropped under the sofa and carpet—and she’d even worn out the rag. She would have to buy a new one tomorrow.

But it wasn’t like she wanted to. Once she started cleaning, she just couldn’t stop. It was like fishing; it had a strange, magical pull!

            

…Then again, did the developers poach someone from a cleaning simulator team when they were making this DLC?!

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The author has something to say:

Arna: This isn’t a factory simulator, it’s a robot vacuum simulator! (screams)

            

Then again, just like in Harry Potter, cleaning a big house and getting to open blind boxes⁸ is really fun… no one can resist…

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1. “play with fire” is a reference to a famous Chinese internet meme/trope from romance novels, “Woman, you are playing with fire.” There is also a popular Western song with the same name.
2. Nitroglycerin, though an explosive, can be used to treat heart problems. It was discovered in the late 19th century. Since the timeline is already altered, I’ve brought it in here.
3. Fire brigades existed in 17th-century Britain. For comparison, it seems China had fire brigades during the Song Dynasty, where they were called ‘qianhuopu’.
4. Shepherd’s Pie is mentioned in 19th-century recipes. It’s a well-known method for using up leftovers, basically mixing minced beef or lamb with potatoes and onions, topping it with mashed potatoes, and baking it. A hodgepodge.