The Old Man and the Sea (2)
It was while I was writing the manuscript for The Old Man and the Sea. I had stood up for a short break, only to remember something that needed my attention.
“Come to think of it, I really should check on the factory and the things I’ve created.”
The professor was doing his best, but there were matters I needed to look into myself. Raw material prices, delivery status, overall revenue—that sort of thing. Truthfully, I hadn’t intended to check while in the middle of writing. Once I start a piece, I prefer to keep the flow uninterrupted. Stopping even briefly makes the tone before and after feel slightly different. The mindset shifts. The atmosphere and intent can drift.
Still, this was urgent. I had no choice.
“So the raw material costs have risen?”
“To be precise, the negotiations have broken down. They say they require the Young Master’s assistance.”
What exactly was going on? The details couldn’t all fit into a letter, so I would have to go in person. They had summoned me, and I was curious besides.
I headed to the factory with Vienna. After a full day’s travel we arrived, and the factory owner came out to greet us himself.
“Oh my, welcome, welcome!”
The owner here was Garton. He was a slightly older noble with a genial demeanor. Despite that, he always treated me with impeccable respect. His rank was undoubtedly higher than mine, yet he behaved this way. It felt a little burdensome, but it also meant he trusted me deeply.
We exchanged a quick handshake and stepped inside together. The factory floor was alive with noise. Workers operated machines, stamping out parts in steady rhythm. The sight filled me with satisfaction, yet something felt off. Hadn’t they called me because of a problem with raw materials? So how were they still producing components?
When I asked, Garton explained it was simple enough.
“We have a decent stockpile. This is all before the supply contract renewal, you see.”
“Ah, so you came looking for me to handle the renewal?”
“Yes. They attempted to adjust various terms at that time. Naturally the conditions were absurd, so we negotiated, but…”
He said the outcome had not been favorable. Yet the letter had clearly stated the negotiations had collapsed. That meant the adjusted terms were unreasonable, and the other side had demanded the impossible.
When I pressed for details, he told me they had quoted double the original delivery price.
“Double?”
“Yes. And when we tried to contract with other suppliers, they all quoted high as well. On top of that, time is not on our side.”
What was this—some kind of cartel? I stared at him in disbelief, and Garton brought up yet another issue. Not only had the delivery price doubled, but various handling fees had been raised as well. They had negotiated in search of a compromise, but…
“The other party was exceptionally stubborn.”
“Then this won’t be easy.”
Garton owned the oldest factory I had established. Technically the professor had initiated the project, but I had somehow become acquainted with him through it. Of course, the manual lathe and other inventions had made that acquaintance inevitable. If even he was shaking his head, the opponent had to be formidable.
What did they truly want? Were they actually colluding? Whatever their scheme, I wouldn’t know until I met them. I needed to sit down with them, find out what they wanted, and what they intended to do to us.
Fortunately, the second round of negotiations was scheduled for today. The timing had aligned perfectly.
As we were about to enter the conference room, Garton suddenly looked at me as if something had occurred to him.
“Ah, one more thing. The other party does not know that Lord Lerambourg is coming.”
“Is that so? Why didn’t you inform them?”
“Something felt off. I thought it better not to tell them.”
Hmm. Normally the participant list would be shared. I nodded that I understood and stepped inside.
The opposing party, already seated, turned startled eyes on me.
“Y-you are…?!”
“Good afternoon. I am Eden Lerambourg. It’s sudden, but I’ll be joining the discussion.”
I gave a light bow. They rose and returned the greeting. When I shook hands with the man who appeared to be their representative, I could feel the tremor in his grip.
Nervous? From what Garton had told me, this didn’t match his usual personality. Which meant there was likely something he didn’t want exposed. That was a point worth probing.
We took our seats, acknowledged the official nature of the meeting, and began. I listened while reviewing the documents. The representative’s voice still carried a slight tremble.
“What we—what I mean is, what our side demands is as follows.”
He had almost said “we,” hadn’t he?
His demands were ridiculous. Doubling the price was only the start; they were clearly trying to push transportation costs and multiple fees onto us. I had seen this pattern often on Earth. When a store began to thrive, the landlord would raise the rent. Short-term greed that slit the throat of the goose that laid golden eggs.
People like this rarely thought long-term. Even if they did, they might conclude that higher costs benefited them more. Still, the numbers looked barely tolerable on the surface.
That was when Garton discreetly slid a note across to me.
I glanced at it. The terms written there were even worse than what the representative was currently stating. Full transfer of transportation costs? A fifty-fifty split on fees? They had told me transportation would be split evenly and fees would be seventy-thirty. I nearly frowned but caught myself. Instead I offered a small smile and stared straight at him.
“Shall we make a few adjustments?”
“Ah, y-yes, of course.”
The cold sweat on his brow confirmed there was something to hide. No need to expose it outright. Better to use the moment.
I proposed a midpoint between his demands and the existing contract. Tension flashed across his face, but he shook his head firmly.
“That won’t do. We have to make a living too.”
“I understand. But you already know the situation.”
Even under the current contract, they had quoted slightly above the standard delivery price. The professor had arranged it, not because he foresaw this exact crisis, but because the factory’s raw material consumption hadn’t been high at the time. It had been a way to secure priority.
Now, however, our consumption volume was respectable—thanks, interestingly enough, to the inventions I had introduced. I made it clear we could source materials elsewhere, while also reminding them how generously we had treated them before.
He seemed to grasp the implication. His expression turned resigned.
“Sigh… Very well.”
“Excellent. Then let’s draw up the contract immediately.”
It had worked. The opponent I had heard described as formidable had folded more easily than expected. There might be something else at play, something I didn’t yet know. I considered asking directly, but since I couldn’t predict the reaction, I let it go. I had come to solve a problem, not create a new one. No need to push my luck.
Instead, I would investigate quietly.
“Vienna, look into the current market conditions for me.”
“Understood, Young Master.”
With that, the factory business was settled. Time to head home.
Back home, I finished writing quickly. The Old Man and the Sea was not a full-length novel; it sat at the level of a short story, similar in length to The Little Prince.
Even so, I felt uneasy. The sea would be an unfamiliar concept to people living inland. And would the idea of Human Triumph resonate here?
“Even if modern readers might accept it, this world is still medieval—or rather, it’s only now stepping toward modernity.”
Life here remained far harsher. Some readers might find comfort in the thought that their own lives could resemble the old man’s. Others might respond with cold cynicism. The reactions could split sharply.
“Well, let’s see what happens.”
I gathered the manuscript and headed for Genectra. The journey was peaceful. There were no longer protests outside the publishing house, so I entered without trouble.
“Still, it’s a shame.”
Then again, those protests could have turned violent. I shook off the pointless thought and climbed the stairs. Passing the busy clerks on the second floor, I reached the president’s office and knocked lightly.
A voice invited me in.
“Oh! Author! Is this a new manuscript?”
“It is. Though once again, it’s a short piece.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Please, have a seat.”
I sat where he indicated. His secretary brought refreshments. I handed the manuscript to Poren and slowly enjoyed the tea and snacks while he began to read.
His eyes sparkled as he turned the pages. I waited patiently until he finished.
“Have you read it all?”
“Yes, I have.”
He set the manuscript down with deliberate care. His reaction was markedly different from usual. Normally he would have burst into excited praise, declaring it an guaranteed success.
Curious, I asked what was wrong. Did the writing not appeal to him?
Poren hesitated, lips moving silently as though choosing his words. I didn’t press him. After a moment, his expression grew serious.
“Author, to be honest… I’m not certain about this one.”
“What do you mean?”
“For me, it was excellent. Your novels are always wonderful, but…”
He closed his mouth again. Why was he dragging this out? I gave him a slight glare that said, Just tell me clearly.
Only then did he continue.
“The reception will likely be sharply divided. The central theme appears to be Human Triumph. Some may interpret it as a challenge to the authority of the Goddess Church.”
Ah. So it was that serious.
It looked like I would need to write to Hefiliya soon. Or perhaps, since we had been exchanging letters regularly, it was time for a face-to-face meeting.