Revenge Comes with Interest - Chapter 56

Everyone wore a look of confusion at the unfamiliar word: “sewing machine.”

Lea gave a brief explanation of what it was, but most of them looked skeptical. However, there were those who knew of it. Sonya and Adolf, who were aware of the sewing machine’s existence, reacted quite poorly.

“Are you telling us to create our work with that vulgar, ridiculous machine?”

Adolf was adamantly opposed to using it.

“I’d rather die. I cannot let thirty years of experience be rendered meaningless by a mere hunk of iron.”

As the saying goes, “like husband, like wife.” The couple jumped in protest, citing their honor, their pride, and their dignity as Imperial Tailors.

“Then you both should just die!”

Lea shouted, glaring fiercely at Sonya and Adolf.

“Honor? Pride? Thirty years of experience? Your dignity as Imperial Tailors? It all ends once you’re dead anyway.”

“My Lady, how could you say such harsh words?” Sonya said, looking at Lea with resentment.

At that moment, Terran rose from his seat and walked toward the couple.

“Have you still not grasped the situation? Breaking a promise to the Empress means death by hanging.”

In Terran’s eyes, a simmering rage flickered like madness.

“Speak up. Do you want to die? If so, you don’t have to do a thing.”

Sonya and Adolf turned pale.

Lea, having no more time to listen to their opinions, approached Chenera.

“If it’s Grandpa Rapa, I think he might be able to find a sewing machine.”

“Grandpa can find anything! A long, long time ago, he even sold human eyeballs!”

Lea instinctively looked at Terran.

“I’ll go,” he said.

He rushed out of the ducal mansion with Luke. Despite this, Lea felt a sense of dread clouding her vision.

The Hamilton Merchant Guild had tried to sell sewing machines once, but the opposition from artisans had been violent; they had pelted the guild with stones. They believed that a sewing machine, which was five times faster than manual labor, would rob many people of their livelihoods.

“Pauline, look for those among the servants who are skilled at sewing and cutting.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Until Terran returned with the machines, they had to cut the fabric according to the patterns. That way, they could start stitching the moment the machines arrived.

“But we also need someone who knows how to operate them,” Chenera pointed out, highlighting a detail Lea hadn’t considered.

Lea instructed James to assemble all the servants of the mansion.

“Please, I can only hope there’s someone.”

The only stroke of luck was that the boots, hats, and gloves were safe, having been stored elsewhere. It was also a godsend that plenty of Turkisan fabric remained.

‘Terran, you must bring those sewing machines.’

Lea walked to the window and watched the two men lead the guard out of the estate. She prayed fervently that they wouldn’t return empty-handed.

Turning away from the window, Lea addressed Sonya and Adolf.

“It is up to your choice. Whether you live or die.”

It wasn’t a mere threat. If the Empress’s riding habit wasn’t finished on time, the two of them would hang, just as Terran said. Of course, Lea herself would hardly escape punishment. While she might not die thanks to Terran’s influence, it was certain she would pay a heavy price for insulting the Imperial Family.

Allen smiled with great satisfaction as he looked at the telegram he had just received.

“Hahaha! To think the Empress’s riding habit has turned into rags.”

Furthermore, the person he had hired was unconscious, which meant they were practically dead. It would be difficult to trace who was behind the sabotage.

“There are only three days left. They’ll likely buy some shoddy ready-made outfit, or they’ll fall out of favor with the Empress and end up in deep trouble.”

It was a perfect result. His only regret was that he couldn’t witness the scene firsthand. He wanted to toast while watching Terran’s miserable face.

‘What a shame.’

The Empress of Lubeck, the strongest candidate to win the Bellis Royal Equestrian Competition, would not be able to perform at her best. She wouldn’t stand out either, as she’d be wearing the same clothes as everyone else.

Just then, his secretary spoke to him in a serious tone.

“Sir, it will be impossible to contact our person inside the Courtois mansion for the time being.”

“I suppose so. Terran isn’t an idiot; he won’t just sit still. Try again once things settle down.”

“Understood.”

Allen wanted to savor this triumph for a long time. Was this not the beauty of give-and-take?

‘You should have been prepared for this when you terrorized me. Did you think I’d just take it?’

Imagining Terran running around desperately looking for an alternative made Allen’s previous anger melt away like snow.

‘Once Rivette becomes the Crown Princess, I’ll have nothing to fear.’

Wealth, fame, and even power would all be in his hands. If Rivette even gave birth to a prince, his life would be a smooth highway.

‘Hmm, poor Grace. If only she were by my side, I could offer her some comfort. But it won’t be long now; the Duke will be eliminated soon.’

He was confident he could treat her like a queen and shower her with the affection she never received from Terran.

At that moment, Sarah came to see him.

‘She’s so tactless. She has a real talent for ruining the mood.’

She was a decent partner in bed, but he preferred not to see her during the day. Despite being a mere maid, he had granted her the honor of wearing fine clothes, eating good food, and sleeping with the most handsome man in Galdensia. He found her daily grumbling spiteful.

“Allen, when are we getting married?” Sarah asked, stroking his shoulder.

Allen almost burst out laughing at her nonsense. Who is marrying whom? He thought she should at least be realistic. Suddenly, a good idea struck him.

“Prove to me that you are useful to me, Sarah.”

“Prove it? I already did!”

Who was the one who took the lead in betraying Lea and Richard? She had helped Allen swallow the Hamilton Merchant Guild. What more proof did he need?

“Find Richard Hamilton’s memoirs. Bring me that, and I’ll marry you the very same day.”

“What?”

“You know him, Sarah. You were like a daughter to Richard. Use your head and figure out where those memoirs might be.”

Terran arrived at the southern outskirts of Rebon. Since Grandpa Rapa had quit smuggling, other gypsies had taken over the monopoly.

“These guys are of worse quality than our group was, sir.”

“Scum of the earth, then.”

If they were worse than Grandpa Rapa’s old crew, they were truly bottom-of-the-barrel. They were said to be skilled with blades and involved in all sorts of filthy, despicable acts.

“I don’t care about that. What I need is a sewing machine.”

“They’ll surely have some, sir. The problem is whether they’ll hand them over quietly.”

“Should I set up some explosives?”

“Those guys mainly deal in bombs and weapons, sir.”

“What?”

Terran’s expression shifted instantly, becoming grave. Opium, alcohol, or rare goods were one thing, but trading weapons and bombs was strictly an act of treason.

“I crushed the thugs in the north, and now the ones in the south are acting up.”

Just then, a group of men emerged from the opposite side. They all had menacing faces and large builds; they were thugs by any definition.

“That guy with the blue-dyed hair is the leader, Sarubi. He’s a real piece of work,” Grandpa Rapa whispered, signaling to Terran.

“Well, well! Grandpa Rapa brought a distinguished guest? I heard you became a noble’s dog, and I guess it’s true!”

Sarubi sneered as he looked at Terran and Grandpa Rapa.

“Hey, blue-hair. I need a sewing machine,” Terran said, cutting straight to the point.

“What’s a noble lord going to do with a sewing machine? Making a pair of knickers for your wife, are you?”

Sarubi’s subordinates roared with laughter at his comment.

“Hmm. I’ll make more than just knickers. I’ll make some drawers, and if I have time, I’ll sew your mouth shut too.”

At Terran’s reply, every one of them, including Sarubi, drew their knives.

“You need a few holes in you to wake up!” Sarubi shouted, fuming.

Terran gave a smirk and leveled his gun at him. Behind him, the guards followed suit, unsheathing their rifles in perfect unison.

“Do you need a hole in your head to wake up?”

Sarubi’s expression turned awkward as he slowly lowered his knife. Terran dismounted his horse and walked toward him.

Sarubi hadn’t expected to actually face the Duke of Courtois, of whom he’d only heard rumors. He thought the Duke was a mere greenhorn since he was only twenty-five, but the man radiated a powerful, overwhelming aura from his tall, muscular frame. Most of all, a concentrated strength seemed to dwell in those sharp, black eyes.

“I don’t care what you sell. But you should know that if you deal in weapons and bombs, you’re dead.”

“We aren’t the type of people who are afraid of dying,” Sarubi retorted. Being at the bottom of life, what was there to fear? They just lived for the day.

“Hmm, fine. I’ll buy all your weapons and bombs. In exchange, bring me any sewing machines you have.”

Only then did Sarubi seem moved by the offer. Buy all the weapons and bombs? However, handing them over to a noble carried risks.

“I’ll pass. I don’t do business with nobles. I do have about three sewing machines, though.”

“Bring them,” Terran said in a low voice.

“They say the noble lord is a war hero, right? Then you must be a hell of a fighter,” Sarubi sneered, baring his darkened teeth.

“Let’s have a go. If you win, I’ll give you the machines for free. Nobody was going to buy those anyway; they were just in the way. But if I win, you don’t say a word even if you die. How’s that?”

“Fine. Guns or swords?”

When Terran accepted without a second thought, Sarubi looked slightly taken aback.

“Swords.”

In that moment, Terran recalled Grandpa Rapa’s words that the southern gypsies were exceptionally skilled with blades. Terran spoke to Sarubi with an air of indifference.

“I only count it a win if my opponent’s head is cut off. Keep that in mind.”

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