Fertilizer (4)
“Ah.”
As John Brown pushed open the door to the office once more, the first thing he saw was the Research Director's hair color.
Why... her hair.
The Research Director's hair was brown—an indisputable truth, backed by the big data Brown had accumulated through his days in the lab. Anyone else in the lab would give the same answer if asked. But right now, the color shining in Brown's eyes was golden.
Was it the sunlight streaming in from behind the office, dyeing it gold?
No, that's not it.
If that were the case, he would have quickly realized it was just a trick of the light.
But it was too distinctly golden to dismiss as a misperception. Moreover, starting from the edges of her hair near her secretary's hand, it was shifting to brown, making the difference even more stark. On top of that, her unfamiliar impression was morphing into the familiar face of the Research Director.
The situation was too clear to chalk up to an illusion. The Research Director was hiding her true identity. But since when?
Did she switch midway? Or from the very beginning?
But that didn't matter. Golden hair was a trait seen only in the bloodline of one family in the Boern Empire: House Reinhardt. And House Reinhardt was...
The imperial family...
Brown fell into confusion. Why was the Research Director hiding her identity? Why did her hair bear the golden hue that appeared only in those of imperial blood?
Brown pondered, while the Research Director watched him.
“Th-that...”
His panic made the words stick in his throat. He regretted not grabbing the fountain pen he'd left tucked into the documents as a gift. He'd come back just to retrieve it, only to stumble into this headache.
“Sorry. I should have knocked. I...”
He pieced together words as best he could, racking his brain for a way to escape the office.
“Hmph. Come in for now.”
The Research Director showed no intention of letting him off easily.
“Y-yes, ma'am...”
Brown squeezed his eyes shut and stepped inside.
Thud.
The familiar sound of the door closing. But today, it filled the office more heavily than usual. A thick silence followed, weighing down the room even more.
“...”
“So. How much did you see?”
“What do you mean? I don't...”
His mind wasn't turning properly. Why was she disguising herself? Had she been hiding her identity since they first met? Or did she change midway? Whatever the reason for her being here, there had to be one for the secrecy. And unfortunately, he'd discovered it.
I'm screwed.
Brown's mind flashed through the fates of characters in his past life's media who learned what they shouldn't have.
“I'm sorry. I should have been more careful.”
As Brown floundered, the secretary quietly apologized to the Research Director.
“It's fine. I didn't expect this either. And it's not a big deal anyway.”
The Research Director replied softly to her secretary, then turned her gaze. Brown met her eyes and shivered slightly.
“I don't like liars much. Be honest. How much did you see?”
After a moment of fumbling for words, Brown confessed.
“Sorry. Your hair color...”
“It was golden.”
“...Yes.”
“...Don't look so terrified. I have no intention of harming you.”
Brown composed himself at her words.
“Under...stood.”
“Good. You've probably guessed, but I am...”
She trailed off, then continued.
“Violet Reinhardt. That's my true identity.”
He'd inferred imperial blood, but not that she was the Princess herself.
“!”
“Pfft. Your face says it all. But as I said, I won't harm you. I promise.”
“...Then...”
“That said, since it's come to this, let me ask you something.”
The Research Director—no, the Princess—stood from her chair and approached Brown.
“I've shared my secret with you, so you should share one with me to make it even, right?”
“Wh-what... do you mean?”
“Nothing major...”
She stood before him, locking eyes. Her face had a plain, gentle impression, but it overlapped with the Princess's true visage he'd glimpsed moments ago. Leaning in, she whispered into his ear.
“What is the source of your ideas?”
“...”
“Sometimes... when I see your designs and actions, I wonder. What thought process runs through your head to come up with these things? Is it just exceptional creativity? Or is there... something else?”
The shock of her identity hadn't even faded when she struck at the core. But he couldn't answer honestly.
How could he say that back when he was in his old department, getting hit by a falling apple from a tree had jogged his memories of his past life?
Ha. That's a ridiculous joke.
He could predict her reaction and quickly abandoned the idea.
“Well... I just have a lot of passion for firearms...”
Ah.
Even to him, it sounded like a stupid excuse. But nothing better came to mind.
“Hmph.”
The Princess eyed him for a moment.
Interest... If that's all, she wouldn't move like she already knows the answers.
After pondering, she spoke.
“Fine. For now, I understand. Then...”
Knock knock.
Before she could finish, a knock echoed through the office.
—Researcher Luna Karen here. May I come in?
“...”
“...”
The office fell silent for a moment.
“Come in.”
“...Mr. Brown?”
Luna Karen entered, documents in hand.
“Ms. Karen...”
Her timing was miraculous, swooping in to save him. For the second time, Brown felt profound gratitude toward her.
The first was when they met.
“Hmph. Brown? That was an interesting talk. We'll finish it later.”
“...Yes.”
“And our conversation just now...”
“...”
Once outside, Brown's tension released, and he slumped against the wall.
“Haa...”
Thankfully, nothing bad happened. But the Research Director—the Princess—suspected him.
“How do I talk my way out of this...”
As he stared blankly at the ceiling, one thought struck him.
Ah. The smell...
He recalled McCallson's words after the fertilizer plant. With the Princess having come so close, she might have caught the stench. He didn't want to be remembered for that.
Sniff sniff.
Fortunately, the cologne masked it completely.
“Haa...”
Good thing he'd spritzed on perfume while writing the report. McCallson's warning had been spot-on, even if annoying. His friend's words resurfaced belatedly.
“Haha...”
Should've read that novel after you mentioned it.
With a hollow laugh, Brown pulled himself up and walked away.
“Did... something happen?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
The Research Director tilted her head at Karen's question.
What was that about.
The scene she'd walked in on: John Brown looking flustered, the Director—no, the Princess—eyeing him with interest. She'd overheard the Director's parting words to him as he left, and it nagged at her.
“Ah... nothing. I came to talk about gunpowder.”
“Go ahead.”
“First, after testing the sample Mr. John Brown brought from the fertilizer plant...”
Brown and Karen's reports aligned. Brown had said incorporating the fertilizer process into gunpowder production would free them even more from resource constraints. Karen compared the components, explaining their substitutability.
The Research Director, listening, replied.
“I see. Good work.”
“Then, I'll be going.”
As Karen left the office, her mind stayed fixed on Brown and the Director.
That atmosphere... that talk... Suspicious.
Pondering deeply, she arrived at a guess.
No way... their relationship.
It was the kind of inference born from ignorance of the full story.
“Ah...”
Meanwhile, the Research Director spoke with her secretary.
“Handle that fertilizer plant well.”
“Understood.”
After hearing Brown and Karen, investing in the plant's tech made sense. Plus, with leak risks, it needed oversight.
“You're buying the fertilizer plant with money? Hm...”
The plant owner received the sudden offer.
“That's a bit much...”
Clunk.
“We'd appreciate a quick decision.”
His visitors opened a bag as they spoke.
“...”
It was too much money to refuse.
“We meet again.”
“Hmph. I hope for productive discussions.”
“Of course. Then.”
The delegation and officials began their negotiations.