Chapter 85
After the incident where her own daughter nearly got into a carriage accident, the Baroness never returned to Cayente’s office again—whether she had some realization, regained her senses on her own, or Yulia said something to her separately, no one knew. By that time, Ian had also somehow pulled himself together and began seriously learning the work. News of the missing Baron hadn’t surfaced anywhere yet, but life flowed on in what seemed a boringly calm routine.
In the meantime, Yulia finally brought up the topic she had been stewing over with Cayente.
“Compared to how well Clue Textile is doing, the conditions for the workers underneath seem excessively poor,” she said.
She thought it strange that despite working so hard, the workers couldn’t even comfortably buy a single thick coat for winter. Yulia wasn’t just making idle comments—she wanted to actively explore possible solutions. On the morning she raised the issue, she even followed Cayente’s carriage.
“I’d like to see the ledgers. Is that alright?”
Yulia was curious about how much profit Clue Textile was currently making and how much of that profit was distributed to the estate workers and the factory employees. Cayente didn’t mind and showed her several years’ worth of accounting books. Contrary to expectations that she wouldn’t understand, Yulia quickly calculated everything down to the percentile right there.
“I didn’t realize you earned this much. But not even 1% of this profit is going to the workers,” she said.
Yulia was shocked not only by the scale of the profits but also that only a negligible amount trickled down to the local people and factory workers. She bluntly requested higher wages and a greater share of the profits for the estate workers, but Cayente refused.
Unplanned, arbitrary spending wasn’t easy. A weekly wage of one gold per person may sound simple, but multiplying it across all employees meant a significant monthly increase. The new textile venture hadn’t yet stabilized, and it was not the right time to simultaneously consider trade operations, so such a decision couldn’t be made yet.
“Count, the Lady will visit this afternoon. When should I have her come?”
“Why the office?”
“It seemed she had something to discuss in person.”
“I don’t know what she intends to do, but tell her to come around two o’clock.”
As expected, Yulia insisted. She often asked if she could reconsider her position if she saw him at the end of the day. She would have been more reasonable if she requested a concert, but she heatedly involved herself in matters unrelated to her personal life.
“Before the Lady comes, those people outside will have to go home.”
Henry, tidying the teacup Cayente had been drinking from, spoke with concern as he looked through the distant window. People had been showing up for three days, asking to meet Cayente—workers recently fired from the cotton farm.
Cayente had purchased the rights to the cotton farm and its products from the Duke of Berre, not the surrounding estates. The estate workers continued their work, but in the form of employment at the cotton farm, like the factory workers, which created the concept of “dismissal.”
“How shameless, stealing cotton without permission,” Cayente muttered.
Cayente never fired competent workers without reason. The problem this time was that the five workers had used the cotton for themselves without authorization. When the farm was managed as part of the estate, low-quality cotton was sometimes taken by the workers, but Cayente had forbidden it.
The fired workers came to the office and staged a protest. They shouted about injustice but never admitted their own wrongdoing.
“I told them there were plenty of factory jobs at LaRoche, yet they insist on staying at the farm. I worry Lady Yulia will be upset when she sees this,” Henry said.
Of course. The people outside would surely focus only on being fired, ignoring their own mistakes. Yulia, always eager to help when she saw need, would naturally side with them upon hearing their complaints.
“Tell them to enter through the back door.”
“I will, Count.”
Thinking of Yulia taking the side of those people rather than her husband made Cayente strangely uneasy. It was unsettling to feel a jealousy-like emotion over such things, but seeing Yulia smile and pay attention to others had become intolerable.
Yulia didn’t even know Cayente’s office had a back door or that there was a hidden path behind the building by the fountain. Confused about why she was instructed to enter from the rear, Yulia’s carriage proceeded along the narrow path just wide enough for one carriage and arrived behind the office.
“Lady! Stay inside!”
Lucy, stepping out first to open the door and help Yulia down, called urgently.
“The floor here is terrible. If you get down, the hem of your dress will get dirty. What should we do? Shall I carry you?”
Curious about how dirty the floor could be, Yulia peeked through the open door and realized the ground was indeed filthy enough to hesitate stepping onto it. The mud, more than just a mixture of water and dirt, was thick enough to trap shoes, and Lucy herself couldn’t board the carriage with dirty shoes.
“What is that smell…?”
It smelled like the refuse collected for fertilizer at a potato farm, no longer considered part of the Rufer estate.
“This won’t do. Even if I carry you, your dress will get dirty. We should go through the main entrance.”
As Yulia pinched her nose, Lucy removed her shoes and climbed onto the carriage. At the same time, sounds came from the opposite side, knocking on the window.
“Lady, please give me a penny!”
“Lady! Show mercy!”
Yulia, opening the window without thinking, was shocked to see people in worse condition than the beggars in the Duchy. She had thought life in the Empire was better, that starvation was rare… but clearly she was wrong.
“Please help! My daughter is dying!”
“Lady!”
“Lady! Help!”
No—it wasn’t her daughter. The people were reeking of the foul smell Yulia had pinched her nose against and were reaching into the carriage, demanding anything they could take. Their sunken, colorless faces looked like a vision of hell from the scriptures.
Unable to respond immediately, Yulia watched as the people grabbed scarves and hair accessories from her.
“Lady! Close the window!”
Lucy rushed into the carriage to close the window. Thanks to her, nothing more was taken, but Yulia’s pristine white dress quickly became dirty from their hands.
“Joshi! Move!”
The carriage slowly accelerated, but the desperate people kept following. When a woman’s screams begged her to save her daughter, Yulia had no choice but to throw her entire purse out of the window.
“Please let the people outside work. We won’t do it again. They said it was unsalable cotton anyway.”
Even though Yulia had been told to enter through the back, she entered from the front and immediately demanded this upon entering the office. Cayente, without even greeting her, flatly refused.
“No.”
“Why not? Would it have harmed your finances? Those workers’ cotton couldn’t have bought a single pearl for my dress.”
But Yulia did not back down. She had learned how the company operated and now tried to persuade Cayente with exact figures.
Still seated at his desk, Cayente replied firmly:
“Before considering losses, Yulia, this is a matter of order.”
“They’ve lived like that their whole lives. They aren’t used to a new order. Having worked on the cotton farm for nearly thirty years in Bessen, where would they go now? They can’t just switch jobs, can they?”
Though he anticipated Yulia would side with the people outside, her reaction was more extreme than expected. Most strikingly, her appearance was unusual. She trembled as if from shock or anger, and her white summer dress was dirty in places.
Her carefully styled hair was sticking out in several places, and her breathing was ragged. Seeing her, Cayente felt a chill in his heart.
