12 The Pie

After the doctor left, Arna returned alone to her office on the second floor and sat down. A few days ago, she had made herself a set of desk and chair. The window opened inward, positioned perfectly to overlook the children gathered around the table downstairs.

With no one nearby, Arna hummed a tune contentedly and comfortably propped her legs up on the desk.

She began the basic inventory of factory assets.

Although she was still very poor and there was little of value in the factory, every table and chair was precious!

[Profession: Factory Owner]
[Factory Name: The Prosperous Workshop]
[Factory Status: Small Workshop]
[Number of Employees: 11]
[Remarks: Can this even be called a factory? It’s more like a dilapidated workshop. But considering the number of people... it barely qualifies as a small workshop.]

[Currently Unlocked Production List: Carriage Shock Absorber (Basic), Air Freshener (Basic), Double-Decker Wooden Bunk Bed]

The carriage shock absorber was a recipe automatically rewarded by the system after Arna recruited ten children. She managed to piece together some suitable parts and finally found the children some work.

Fortunately, the finished shock absorber sold at a high price to the system, and it was these earnings over the past few days that helped her balance the books and save a little.

She could have sold them independently for higher prices, but Arna was in no rush. With such limited manpower, if these ten skilled kids got exhausted, where would new workers come from?

With that thought, Arna opened the employee status panel and checked each child’s condition.

Very good. They had all eaten breakfast, were diligently working, and their stats were slowly rising. Two or three glowed gold, indicating they were performing exceptionally well and producing more precise parts.

Satisfied, Arna closed the panel.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. She quickly straightened up, grabbed a book someone had tossed onto the desk, and opened it. "Please come in."

Nancy entered and saw this scene: Factory owner Mr. Esas was absorbed in reading a book—probably a ledger—with a cup of cold tea beside him.

Although the light was dim, she could still see the dark circles under his eyes; he clearly had been exhausted recently.

“Please, have a seat,” he said kindly.

“Good morning, Mr. Esas,” Nancy said somewhat nervously as she sat down. “I just wanted to check on today’s lessons. The children are learning letters and arithmetic now…”

She hesitated.

Arna noticed a small green dot labeled “anxious” flickering on the status panel and curiously asked, “What’s wrong, Nancy?”

Nancy gripped her skirt tightly on her lap.

“I heard a few ladies visited yesterday, about… the teaching position,” she whispered. “If you’re looking for someone more suitable, I’d understand. It’s just…”

Just what?

She didn’t know either. Like the nearby residents whispering, she came from a disreputable background and was certainly not qualified to be a teacher.

“Oh, yes, a few came by yesterday,” Arna recalled the NPCs who had visited, opening a drawer to retrieve a package. “Mrs. White sent some slates for the children to practice writing—it’s better than using sticks to draw on the ground.”

Handing the package over, she remembered Nancy’s other concern. “Teaching position? No, no, I’m not looking for a better candidate.”

At that, Arna’s anger flared.

She wasn’t sure what triggered it, but an NPC had inexplicably stopped her yesterday, volunteering to be the children’s new teacher and disparaging Nancy.

She jabbered on so much that Arna had forgotten most of it, but the phrase “just fifteen shillings a week” was deeply etched in her mind.

Fifteen shillings! Fifteen!

Who gave her the audacity to demand such a high price?

Nancy was better—reasonable pay, capable, considerate, and with a pleasant personality.

Nancy stared at the package, her chest tightening. “So you don’t intend to—”

“No,” Arna shook her head firmly. “Unless you plan to quit.”

At that, she grew nervous.

Wait, could Nancy really be leaving?

Could this be the rival’s scheme: send someone to unsettle the morale, then poach her backbone, causing her factory to collapse completely?

Such a ruthless business war! Capitalists truly have dirty hearts!

Fortunately, she was prepared.

Arna smiled faintly and pulled another set of keys from the drawer.

“Here,” she said casually. “There’s a room freed up on the second floor next to the children’s dormitory. It’s empty anyway, so if you want, you can use it for midday rest.”

Her gaze flicked to the bruises on Nancy’s neck. “…Or you could live here. You can help me take care of the children. I remember your home is a bit far from the factory, right?”

Nancy instinctively looked up at Arna. Their eyes met for a moment, and she quickly looked away as if burned.

“All right,” she said.

Nancy didn’t quite remember how she left the office. She only recalled descending the stairs in a daze, then supervising the children assembling parts. Time flew by.

During the children’s lunch break, Nancy went to see the room.

Far from Mr. Esas’s office and tucked in the corner of the factory beside the children’s rooms, the room was narrow: a single bed, a stack of neatly laid straw, and a clean old blanket in the corner.

She stood there holding the key for a long moment, then trembling, she hung the key around her neck.

“Pull yourself together, Nancy,” she told herself, patting her face. “You still have work this afternoon.”

But today seemed full of surprises.

While distributing the slates and assigning homework, a carriage screeched to a halt outside the factory.

The strong mare leading the carriage shook her mane and snorted unhappily, causing the driver to smile wryly.

An elderly lady with graying hair neatly tucked under her hat stepped down, carrying a basket covered with linen.

She whispered with the driver before slowly entering the factory.

The sharp-nosed children caught the scent of butter and beef and chattered excitedly.

The cleverest of them, Dodge, jumped up and ran over to the old lady.

“You must be Mrs. Hudson, the generous aunt Mr. Esas always talks about!” he said sweetly. “Lady, that’s heavy! Let me help you!”

Mrs. Hudson laughed at his cheekiness.

She lifted the cloth to reveal golden pies still steaming, along with several jars of soup. “I thought you all should have something hearty. Nothing replenishes strength better than good beef and broth!”

Without needing a second invitation, the children rushed over like sparrows, eager yet cautious.

“Don’t rush!” Lucy said. “Wash your hands first!”

Mrs. Hudson nodded at the little adult. “Yes, listen to her, children.”

They scattered, elbowing each other as they jostled toward the washbasin, laughing and playing.

Only Nancy remained seated, fingers nervously clutching her apron on her lap.

It was the apron Mr. Esas had given her—clean, without stains or holes—claimed to have been found in a trash bin.

But everyone in the factory knew that, like the “food I found in the trash—eat it quickly before it spoils” stories, it was just one of his kind lies.

Seeing Nancy, Mrs. Hudson’s stern face softened.

“Ah, come here, dear,” she said, beckoning her closer.

From the bottom of the basket, Mrs. Hudson took out another small package, carefully tied with twine.

Unwrapping the brown paper revealed two pies. “This one’s beef, and the other is apple and blackberry—just for you, my best helper.”

She smiled warmly, winking. “You have a special way with those little ones. My nephew says you’re like a sailor who’s great at tying knots—you’ve helped him a lot. Helping him means helping me, good child.”

Nancy’s neck flushed red.

She took the pies hesitantly, then blurted out, “Why do you bother caring for me? I’m not exactly an upstanding person.”

As the words slipped from her throat, she felt her face burning.

Isn’t that how people usually see her?

A thief, fallen from grace, or worse.

Unexpectedly, Mrs. Hudson paused.

“Why do you say that, dear?” she asked calmly.

Nancy swallowed hard.

“I… I have no surname, no future. Your nephew—he shouldn’t be mixing with someone like me. It’s improper and disgraceful,” she stammered.

She spoke the truth.

Her real reasons for being here were far from pure. She wasn’t truly here to be a respectable teacher. Behind her were Feigen’s schemes, Sykes’s threats and temptations, and many other dark things.

None of it good.

“Oh, come now, girl!” Mrs. Hudson waved her hand, interrupting. Her lace-trimmed sleeve fluttered gracefully.

“Surnames? Half the great noble names three generations ago were stolen from place names and tavern signs,” she scoffed. “As for future? That’s just a fancy word for those who work hard and get lucky.”

She reached out deftly to tuck a loose strand of Nancy’s hair behind her ear.

The gentle touch tightened the young girl’s throat and dried her mouth.

“You’re here, and you’re trying. That’s what matters most to me,” Mrs. Hudson said softly. “If my nephew is foolish enough to believe nonsense and lose a good teacher like you over something as trivial as a surname—well, he’ll be the one testing my cooking pot with his head.”

She smiled knowingly.

A strange feeling surged in Nancy. She bit her lip instinctively, stinging.

Just as she was about to thank her, Mrs. Hudson had already moved among the children.

She began handing out pies and placing the jars of soup on the table. Her voice rang clear amid the noise.

“Hey! No sneaking a second cup before everyone’s had one, or I’ll plug your ear with this ladle!”

Footsteps hurried from upstairs. Little Mr. Esas dashed down the stairs, apparently drawn by Mrs. Hudson’s voice.

“Aunt, save one for me—I want some too!” He brushed past Nancy eagerly.

His quick steps stirred the air.

In that breeze, Nancy suddenly realized the pie in her hand was still warm.

Warm like a hand just taken from the oven, like a bed freshly laid with straw.

The key to the room still hung on her chest, gently swinging, reminding her of something.

Damn the East District, damn Feigen and his schemes.

She thought, gripping the pie tightly and taking a big bite.

The aroma wrapped around her like an embrace she had never dared to imagine. The sweet and tart flavor leaked from the crust, filling her mouth and warming her from tongue to heart.

This was not stolen.

This was hers.