Chapter 11: Driving

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After the first child was admitted, the others stopped watching and quickly got to work. Oliver’s fingers trembled, but he soon focused intently and assembled the parts, then raised his hand. Before long, ten children had completed their assemblies.

Besides Oliver, all five of Fagin’s children were admitted without exception. The remaining spots were filled by other ordinary children from the East District who had heard the story, including Bella, the storyteller.

Alna announced the news and led the admitted children upstairs, pushing open the dormitory door. Oliver’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

Inside were five sets of new-looking bunk beds, each neatly made with clean straw. “You’ll live here,” Alna said, handing the keys to Lucy, the oldest of the group. “As the group leader, you’re responsible for keeping everyone’s living space clean.”

Lucy nodded and gripped the keys.

Soon, the children became familiar with the factory’s layout and unanimously agreed that their factory owner, young Mr. Esas, was an enigma. Unlike other factory owners who sent overseers to punish or spy on them, he roamed freely inside and outside the factory.

On this rare sunny day, the morning sunlight streamed through the newly installed windows, casting golden patches on the dormitory floor upstairs. Though the air still carried a faint scent of fresh paint, it was much fresher than the alleyways these children had once called home.

A gentle breeze fluttered through the open windows, making the lavender hanging on the walls sway lightly, releasing a crisp fragrance.

Since arriving here, everyone seemed to cherish this hard-won environment, even Charlie Bates, who had initially complained incessantly.

Meals were served on time; kind-hearted people brought warm, clean old blankets. No one insulted them for speaking, nor stole their food while they slept.

Just yesterday, they even saw meat in their food—not the watered-down broth they were used to, but real meat. Although each person only got a small piece, it was precious.

Oliver woke early, but someone was already up before him.

Lucy, the small leader of their group, was outside the door, probably having washed already. She was diligently scrubbing the steps with a basin of water.

Oliver got up, busied himself helping clean the room and the factory, then knelt on the floor carefully placing the assembled parts from yesterday into boxes, handling each piece gently, arranging them neatly.

These were unlike anything Oliver had ever seen, different from the small items Mr. Esas had asked him to make during testing.

Many had heard that this factory no longer produced textiles but had abandoned its former reputation to make all sorts of strange parts, leading many to think Mr. Esas had lost his mind.

But… Oliver felt Lucy knew what these were for, at least a little more than the rest.

He had seen the tall girl thoughtfully hold the parts, fascinated as she held them up to the light, examining them from all angles.

When working, Oliver’s mind often wandered.

But instead of bitterly thinking of revenge after a beating, his thoughts now were entirely different.

He recalled the sunshine from his dreams—the scent of sun-warmed straw that reminded him of summer fields he had seen before, where the breeze rustled softly in the clear weather, far from dampness, fleas, and lice.

Someone patted him on the back.

“What are you thinking about, Oliver?” his friend, the clever Doug, asked. “Time for breakfast, buddy. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Nearby, Mrs. Laura had proudly taken over cooking for the children from Mr. Esas, filling their hungry mouths with warm food each day.

Though she was talkative, nagging, and prone to complaints, and kept her earnings well hidden, her cooking was quite good.

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“I’m just thinking,” Oliver’s hand paused, “well, thinking about things.”

He spoke more to himself than to Doug. “…Do you think he knows?”

The former pickpocket looked down at him. “Knows what?”

“About… the things we’ve done…” Oliver hesitated, “…other things?”

He instinctively glanced toward the door, wary of eavesdroppers.

Doug’s half-smile froze briefly, then after a moment, he forced a smile.

“Of course, he doesn’t know!” he said, unsure if he was comforting himself. “Do you think rich folks care about that kind of stuff? He’s soft, like fresh bread, and people like that only believe in the best side of things.”

The breakfast bell rang with a cheerful clatter.

Doug jumped up, shouting as he dashed to the kitchen, declaring he would beat everyone in today’s breakfast speed contest.

Oliver carefully sealed the box before standing to eat.

The thought that this peaceful time could be mercilessly shattered stirred a small flicker of hope in his heart.

That flicker, faint as a small flame, made him look forward to Mr. Esas’s next appearance.

Alna, who had been chided earlier, was tidying the reins, adjusting their position to make the carriage look more orderly.

She had rented a horse-drawn carriage, paying a fixed monthly fee for daily use. The carriage company took care of feeding and cleaning the horse, and stored it when she didn’t need it.

This was much cheaper than buying a horse and carriage outright and more economical than hiring a carriage daily.

Especially since she could drive herself and control the speed!

…She just needed to be careful about the horse’s wear and tear.

But that wasn’t a problem! There was nothing a good meal couldn’t fix!

Watson happened to come downstairs, clutching his small box and tidying his gloves as he walked.

He was thinking about calling a carriage when he saw Alna sitting on the carriage frame.

Curious, he asked, “Esas, heading to the factory again? Driving yourself?”

Alna patted the side rail beside her.

“Yes, doctor,” she smiled brightly. “I’m off now. Want a ride?”

Watson, who had been given a free consultation by her last time, didn’t mind her generosity or wearing down the carriage a bit, so he accepted.

He hesitated only a moment before smiling.

“Oh, you’re so generous,” he said happily, carrying his box up and settling in. “I’m just headed near Whitechapel for a patient’s follow-up. Saves me from hailing a carriage.”

He casually asked, “Did you learn to drive before? In Yorkshire?”

“No,” Alna thought, “I only learned to ride horses and herd cattle on the farm in the game itself, nothing as fancy as the city. I just picked this up recently.”

She was confident. “It’s simple. You just watch and learn.”

“Looks like you’re a natural at this,” Watson joked. “You know, lots of people spend their driving time looking for distractions.”

He adjusted himself for comfort. “If I get a chance, I’d like to visit your factory…”

Alna wasn’t listening at all.

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Gripping the reins, she cheerfully said, “Hold on tight, Doctor Watson!”

No sooner had she spoken than she cracked the whip, and the carriage shot forward like an arrow from a bow.

As the carriage sped up, Watson’s grip on the frame tightened more and more.

He started to think boarding this carriage might have been a mistake.

Alna held the reins, yelling with delight around sharp turns, while Watson’s hat nearly flew off his head.

“Good heavens!” he shouted, having to grab his airborne hat with one hand and the rail with the other.

“Doctor, hold on tight!” Alna shouted over the wind without slowing. “We’re accelerating!”

“Wha—what?!” Watson said in terror.

The creature that looked like a horse galloped so fast it seemed ready to fly, its hooves pounding the road like the devil himself was chasing behind.

Is this really the speed a normal carriage can reach?

As Alna weaved between the carriage and pedestrians, Watson, doubting his life choices, gasped sharply, his knuckles whitening from gripping the rail.

When the gap narrowed to only a few inches, he held his breath, feeling near death.

“Maybe—uh, slow down?” he said nervously, instinctively leaning back.

“Almost there!” Alna answered happily.

Her speed had reached a new level, close to unlocking a new achievement.

After a moment, the carriage stopped.

The lively horse shook its head excitedly, then rested its head affectionately in Alna’s palm, enjoying the gentle stroking while sneakily nibbling the beans in her hand.

Meanwhile, Watson climbed down with shaky legs.

His face was green and purple, his expression a mix of emotions, as if he wished he could go back fifteen minutes and strangle the version of himself who agreed to this ride.

Too trusting. Too careless.

Now he felt not only his stomach churning but his heart pounding fiercely as if it would leap out.

“You,” he panted, leaning against the nearest tree with a long sigh, “your driving is absolutely mad, you know that?”

Having just earned the title of “Deadly Speed King,” Alna blinked.

“But we saved twenty minutes compared to usual,” she said earnestly. “Time is money, efficiency is everything, Doctor.”

Watson groaned, pressing his forehead to the rough bark, as if praying for rescue.

“Next time,” he gasped, “I’ll definitely walk, even if it’s all the way to Scotland.”

Just then, Doug, in charge of kitchen cleaning today, walked into the factory carrying a bucket of water, overhearing their conversation.

“Hey, Mr. Esas, you driving again later?” he teased, shaking the bucket. “I’d pay to watch that again! I’d even carry another bucket of water and scrub the breakfast pots just for the show.”

Watson gagged weakly. “Please, no.”