Chapter 11
Chapter 11. Ugly Flower (7)
6 AM.
The luxurious private suite at The Richfield Hotel.
Penelope's somewhat early morning begins.
Penelope took off her sleeping cap and turned off the loudly ringing alarm clock.
"Yaaawn..."
She yawned languidly and stretched thoroughly.
When she pressed the switch by her bedside, the blackout curtains smoothly drew back, revealing the view of Lichfield Square.
The sky changing from deep navy blue to pale orange.
Lamplighters carrying long poles, going around turning off streetlights.
Adventurers moving busily over the frost-covered roads in the early dawn.
"Everyone lives so busily..."
Penelope, sitting on her bed and gazing down at the scene, slipped her feet into her wool slippers.
Though she desperately wanted to laze around a bit more, she knew well that if she stayed blankly in bed like this, time would rush by.
"Ugh, it's cold..."
The north was already quite cold, and since Penelope kept her room temperature low for her skin health, she needed a certain resolve every time she left her bedding.
The bathroom she reached with quick steps was one of the spaces Penelope had personally paid the most attention to.
A bathtub as beautiful as a work of art, a spacious floor-to-ceiling glass booth next to it, gold-plated faucets.
When she adjusted the water temperature to somewhere between cool and lukewarm, steam with a subtle white tea fragrance rose pleasantly.
After a light shower and brushing her teeth, she put on a fluffy bathrobe warmed by a heater and headed to the powder room that doubled as a dressing room.
On the vanity table were breakfast fruits, a glass of milk, and the morning newspaper that Manager Ritz had prepared.
"What a complete uproar."
Penelope read the newspaper, crunch crunch bit into an apple, and dried her hair.
By this point, all drowsiness had fled.
She could do the process up to here even half-asleep...
But now came the important part.
It was time to choose today's coordination.
This wasn't simply because Penelope was a young lady who liked to dress up.
In noble society, sophisticated appearance and clothing didn't end with mere 'beauty.'
It was a silent language representing one's class and influence, and sometimes became a weapon more effective than a sharp sword.
"Hmm..."
Penelope stood before various garments, touched her lips, and carefully selected clothes.
Today's choice was a velvet skirt with luxurious luster and a cream-colored silk blouse.
She checked thoroughly in the full-length mirror from various angles to ensure there were no wrinkles.
"Good."
After tying up her hair and finishing light makeup, it was 7 AM, and Penelope's morning preparation was complete.
At the same time, Penelope's official daily routine was also finished.
Though it might sound strange, the fact that Penelope, the young lady of the Rosemore Count Family, had done all her morning preparation by herself was already strange.
Instead of an alarm clock, maids would have woken her asking 'Did you cough, miss?'
They would have taken care of washing her body, drying her hair, and choosing, putting on, and adorning her with clothes.
Penelope would have finished all preparations while dozing without lifting a finger.
In her childhood, Penelope had grown up in such an environment.
Though it now felt like a story from the very distant past.
Now what the family allowed Penelope was only maintaining minimum dignity that wouldn't damage the family's authority.
Things like the figurehead position at The Richfield Hotel, or letting her use a suite as a substitute villa.
Conversely, nothing else was permitted to Penelope.
No investment was made in the business she conducted, nor any investment in Penelope personally.
So what Penelope did during the day was...
Very occasionally signing documents that Manager Ritz brought.
Making meaningless attempts at alchemy research blocked by walls from long ago.
Brazenly showing her face in social circles with an iron face.
There was a commonality in this series of routines.
They were meaningless.
Even if she faithfully performed her figurehead duties, the family's evaluation didn't change, the wall of 5th rank remained solid, and society increasingly ostracized Penelope overtly day by day.
No matter what efforts she made.
In the end, it was treading water.
A gear that slowly wore down while spinning in circles in a fixed place.
That was Penelope Rosemore's daily life.
But recently, there has been a small change.
Since meeting that eccentric general store owner who casually spoke informally.
She had discovered rich coffee with wonderful aroma, and above all, she had discovered Cola.
A small goal had emerged: wanting to drink that mysterious beverage again.
Though the owner had committed fraud by saying he'd make it 'soon,' causing her to drink lots of tasteless samples...
Even that aspect had breathed vitality into her life that had been nothing but dry and tasteless.
"...Should I go make Cola?"
To the point where she found herself thinking such thoughts unconsciously.
***
Material collection and fragrance extraction had been completed smoothly.
I thought now I just needed to assemble Cola like building something...
But a variable occurred.
"This is a disaster."
I had hit a roadblock in the process of finding proper fragrance ratios to reproduce Cola.
I hadn't underestimated it from the beginning, but during my days as Minister of Internal Affairs Hanbin, I had done reverse engineering to the point of being sick of it.
Chemical fertilizers, antibiotics, disinfectants and such.
But Cola's reverse engineering had a critical problem different from those times.
For example, let's compare it with the process of making chemical fertilizer.
Nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium.
I just had to mix these elements, commonly called the three elements of fertilizer, and test recklessly.
Then at first it wouldn't work well, but eventually something would come out where I'd think 'Oh, this one's effective.'
It didn't need to be exactly the same as the 'original.'
It was fine as long as I got close to the right answer through trial and error.
But Cola was different.
With taste and aroma, even the slightest difference made a world of difference.
Despite calculating approximate mixing ratios, there was no progress at all.
The most fatal point was...
"I can't remember the taste..."
That my tongue and memory became dull through trial and error.
From drinking so many strange Colas, I couldn't remember the taste of the 'original.'
The more I repeated trial and error, the more the answer key became blurred.
"This is troublesome."
In this case, I'd need to 'create' the original again for comparison...
Making 6 bottles of Cola would consume Dice with astronomical manufacturing costs.
Incidentally, Jurgen had 0 Dice remaining.
"What should I do about this..."
Was Cola too high a hurdle from the start?
Should I have pivoted in a different direction?
―Ding-a-ling
The doorbell rang from downstairs.
I think I know who it is.
A heartbreaking fact, but Penelope was the only person who visited Jurgen's general store.
"Miss Penelope?"
"Don't come down. I'm coming up anyway."
Penelope, dressed in elegant attire, carefully climbed the narrow stairs.
"Honestly, I didn't think you'd come to help after suffering like that yesterday."
"I came because I'd waste all that suffering otherwise."
I felt quite sorry to deliver bad news to such a person.
Just as I was about to tell her that Cola's production would likely be much more delayed than expected.
―Thud
Penelope took out a bundle of white papers from her Saddlebag and placed them on the table.
"What did you pack and bring all this for?"
"Can't you see? Evaluations of the Cola samples I drank yesterday, and scores for similar variants."
"Hmm, let me take a look."
"Can you read?"
"Of course."
"Not bad."
I was already in a position of having received help with material collection.
I had even received sugar as a gift.
If she went this far, I felt too sorry to say I'd give up...
"...?"
Jurgen's eyes narrowed as he formally examined the documents.
This was...
"Miss Penelope, just to ask something I'm wondering about... Do you happen to remember the taste of Cola?"
"Are you treating me like an idiot?"
"You said you assigned scores by sample... It's so detailed."
The standards were consistent as if she had kept the 'original Cola' beside her and alternated drinking.
Moreover, she had described in her own way the differences between samples and what parts needed to be modified to get closer to the original.
The mixing ratio suggestions written in the documents looked extremely reasonable even to Jurgen.
This was worth testing.
"Wait a moment."
Jurgen poured Cola into two glasses.
Samples 27 and 28 made this morning.
"Can you tell me the differences after drinking them?"
"How dare you try to test me?"
"I'm gauging abilities before asking for help."
"...Let me see it."
Penelope's brow furrowed without fail as she put the sample in her mouth.
Well, that one also had a rather subtle taste.
"The 27th has a bit more cinnamon, the 28th has a bit more phosphoric acid added, right?"
"Why did you think that? The taste is hardly different, isn't it?"
Penelope reacted as if she understood Jurgen's question even less.
"Well, there's clearly a difference? Both taste equally terrible though."
In fact, there was almost no difference between samples 27 and 28.
If Jurgen had done a blind test, he wouldn't have been able to distinguish them.
Penelope clearly identified those differences.
She even figured out what ingredients were added and how.
It was proof that she had roughly mapped out the flavor and aroma combinations based on just a dozen-odd tastings yesterday.
"Oho..."
Jurgen recognized the talent Penelope possessed.
God's Tongue.
A talent too precious for Britannia to contain.
Just as Jurgen was about to applaud and praise her.
"Take this."
Penelope held out samples 27 and 28.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"You drink it too."
"Don't tell me, since I made you eat something tasteless, I should drink it too? That kind of context?"
"That's right."
"...That's revenge without any just cause..."
"Revenge? It's the minimum responsibility you should rightfully bear."
While drinking the terribly tasteless sample, Jurgen thought.
Penelope was a talent to recruit.
At least in this Cola recipe securing stage, he needed her help.
'The problem is...'
Even just the assistance received so far exceeded what could be exchanged equally for 'free Cola supply.'
Would Penelope, clearly a noble young lady, really cooperate smoothly with such trivial work?
In the meritocratic nation Britannia, noble young ladies weren't the type to leisurely drink tea.
They were cheetahs running more fiercely than anyone to avoid falling behind.
But such worries soon became meaningless.
"I can help."
"Really?"
"I'm saying so, aren't I? I'm also busy, so it would be difficult to spare much time."
"I'm grateful just for you sparing time occasionally."
Since ready acceptance came out.
"Then I'll be counting on you from now on. Partner."
Though I didn't know what the situation was, I smiled and offered a handshake for now.
Penelope, who had been blankly staring at Jurgen's hand for a moment, also smiled.
"Partner? That's too greedy. Make it patron or so."
Though it was quite a prickly smile.
Even after that day, Penelope steadfastly cooperated in making Cola.
"Ugh...! I said you should reduce the phosphoric acid! Too sour!"
"You smell like that musty odor from your blanket. Didn't you use too much vanilla?"
"The cinnamon aroma seems bothersome. The Cola you gave before was a bit more mellow."
"Ugh... my stomach is churning."
She did so while adding quite detailed advice.
Though she frowned every time she drank tasteless Cola, she assisted more faithfully than imagined.
There was one part Jurgen hadn't expected at all up to this point...
"Did you come today too?"
"The Cola isn't finished yet."
"Miss Penelope is quite diligent."
"Shut up. If it's not tastier than yesterday's, you better be prepared."
That she came to the shop every day, whether one day passed or two days passed.
And helped search for the Cola recipe.
But even with Penelope's assistance, the path to making true Cola was very rough.
Even matching up to 90% similarity, there was no feeling of progress beyond that.
Five days passed like that, then six days.
"The carbonation feels unharmonious. Like it's standing out too much alone?"
"I agree with that part too. I'll need to work on the Soda Fountain once."
"How about changing the mixing process? Sugar, caffeine, phosphoric acid, caramel coloring all together."
"That seems like a good idea too."
A week passed, then two weeks flowed by.
"I'm too full to eat dinner..."
"Originally the stomach for rice is separate. It's the Potato Pancakes you like."
"Po, Potato Pancakes?"
"Eat slowly."
Penelope still visited the shop and helped Jurgen.
Like that for a month.
Time of endurance and painstaking effort.
Sacrificing countless Cola failures as offerings, finally.
"We did it! This is it! This taste!"
"Good work, Miss Penelope! You really worked hard!"
Jurgen's Cola, which produced a taste 99.9% or more similar to modern Cola, descended upon Britannia.
It was a miracle born from the efforts of two experimenters.