"What? Already?"
"Yes, indeed. I'm surprised as well."
I blinked at Mr. Miller. What? The bill has already passed? How?
Even in Korea, there were rare cases where a bill passed that quickly, but those were usually driven by strong public opinion or intense political pressure…
Could something have happened?
"Well, I'm just as puzzled… Balfour and the other MPs aren't saying a word, so who knows."
Mr. Miller seemed just as confused, offering nothing more.
The strange part was that all the MPs had suddenly flinched and started saying things like, "I-I didn't see anything!" or "W-Waaah! He's coming! He's coming!!" before bolting…
What? Did a Great Old One just pay a visit? Why are all their SAN points in freefall?
"Well, anyway, it worked out smoothly for us, so we should be grateful."
"Yes... you're right."
Mr. Miller took a final swig of his whiskey, washing away his remaining concerns.
Yes, we should be thankful that everything was resolved without any unnecessary commotion.
"By the way, how's the aluminum factory situation? You found a suitable company, made the investment, and handed over the management, right?"
"Oh, yes. Lionel Walter Rothschild recommended me, and I signed a deal with a reputable steel company…"
"Well done. But why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
"Well, it's just…"
I scratched my head. Honestly, I couldn't help it.
The person introduced as an executive of the 'Elliot's Metal Company,' with whom I'd made the deal, was… well…
***
"Welcome! You're from the 'Alice and Peter Foundation as a business consultant and an accounting advisor, correct?"
"Yes, that's right. I'm Hanslow Jin, the business consultant."
"And I'm Rowena Rothschild, the accounting advisor."
"It's a pleasure to meet you both. I'm Arthur Neville Chamberlain, one of the executives."
"... Excuse me?"
A crucial business meeting. In these kinds of settings, behaviour is key. After all, even the smallest action could change the terms of a contract.
But as I was in the middle of introducing myself, I found myself staring at the face of the young—no, practically youthful—executive in front of me.
It wasn't because of the all-too-common name, Arthur.
The problem was the name that followed—Neville Chamberlain.
It was impossible not to recognize that name. It was far too famous.
The prime minister right before Churchill. The man known as 'Mr. Peace in Our Time.'
The man who would go down in history as one of the greatest blunders, infamous even outside of England, was standing before me, tilting his head in curiosity.
"Is something wrong? Do I have something on my face?"
"N-No. Haha. It's just that you look so young."
I quickly gathered myself and tried to brush it off. It wasn't exactly a lie.
I later learned that Chamberlain was only twenty-seven at the time, just a year younger than Lionel Walter Rothschild.
Of course, with just a bit more thinning of that young face, slicked-back hair, and a mustache, he'd look exactly like the meme-worthy version of him striking that infamous pose...
You know, the one with the caption, 'I've got a letter from Hitler! Woo-hoo!'
Well, at this point, Churchill was still just a regular military cadet. So, I suppose it wasn't too strange for this man, his future rival, to be this young too.
"Haha, it's the blessing of my parents. But, you two look quite young yourselves."
Chamberlain looked at us with an expression of genuine interest. Well, it made sense. The people representing a foundation as high-profile as 'Alice and Peter' were a woman and an Asian man, after all.
At least he didn't make any tactless remarks right in front of us, so he didn't seem entirely oblivious.
"I'm just lucky to be wearing a suit beyond my station thanks to my employer. Miss Rowena here is the real talent."
"You're too kind."
Unlike my humble response, Rowena Rothschild spoke rather coldly.
Icy, as always. Well, that frosty demeanour is what makes her such a capable accountant…
"So, can I now hear what brings the famous
"Oh, yes. From what I've heard, Elliot's Metal isn't just focused on simple steel refining, but also conducts research into refining other metals, correct?"
"Indeed. Steel is a highly useful and common metal, but it rusts easily and can be brittle. It's necessary to adjust its hardness and strength by combining it with other metals."
"I see. Then, what are your thoughts on aluminum?"
"Ah, of course."
Young Neville Chamberlain chuckled and nodded.
"The
"Well, you caught me."
"Haha. I may not look it, but I'm quite a literary person myself. I couldn't keep up with
I can't tell if this is just lip service or if he's being genuine. But breaking the ice isn't the main priority in a meeting like this.
As expected, Neville Chamberlain looked at me directly and began speaking seriously.
"So, to be honest… it's quite an attractive proposal."
"Your company has never dealt in lead smelting, to begin with."
"That's correct."
I hadn't known that Neville Chamberlain was with this company, but I wouldn't have come in without doing at least that much research.
"If the sudden lead regulations are enforced successfully, and the major steel companies that have been handling it are caught off guard…"
"A company that has already positioned itself with an alternative metal could exert a strong influence in the market."
"Yes, just like how Vincent took Gregory Villiers' place as heir to the Villiers family."
Chamberlain and I shared a knowing smile.
Well, even if he was duped by Hitler, he still made it to prime minister of a country.
Come to think of it, people say he was deceived, but from Britain's standpoint, his decision wasn't entirely wrong. After all, he bought time to build up arms and prepare for large-scale offensives, so many viewed his choice as not entirely mistaken.
Yeah, I'd say he's got some brains after all.
"But honestly, I'm surprised. I didn't expect a foundation focused on child welfare to shake up the steel industry like this."
"This is for the children as well. We're trying to remove lead, which could kill them, from our society."
"But does aluminum have that much potential?"
"Of course."
I nodded firmly.
Chamberlain looked more surprised at my resoluteness than anything. Well, that's the usual reaction.
"You're already aware… that the foresight of our writers has served as a milestone in discovering X-rays, right?"
Don't look at me like that, Rowena. You need to read the room, future 'Peace in Our Time.' He hasn't even noticed that I'm Hanslow Jin, and I have such a similar name.
Sure enough, Neville Chamberlain just nodded vaguely, not fully understanding.
"Ah… yes. I've heard rumours that the idea for the lead regulation arose similarly."
"The writers have rare moments of certainty. They believe aluminum will become far more common and accessible than steel in the future."
"... Certainty, you say."
"Yes."
I nodded as I spoke.
How could people of this time know? That a future where aluminum, once valued higher than silver, would become more common than porcelain.
"Of course, I understand if you find it hard to believe. After all, our writers aren't specialists."
"That's true."
"That's why we're making this proposal."
At my signal, Rowena Rothschild nodded and handed over the proposal.
Neville Chamberlain looked over it, his eyes widening in surprise. Yes, it's quite bold, isn't it?
"Incredible. Are you really okay with a contract like this?"
"It's already been approved."
"But… it's quite a drastic deal."
To put it simply, Elliot Steel would establish a subsidiary to build and operate an aluminum refining plant, and we, the Alice and Peter Foundation, would cover all the costs. Of course, it could also be done by acquiring an existing plant instead.
In exchange, the shares of the subsidiary would be divided 8:2. Naturally, our foundation would hold 80%. However, if Elliot Steel managed the subsidiary to our satisfaction over the next 25 years, they could renegotiate the shares.
In other words, Elliot Steel, which had no know-how in steel-related matters, would take a gamble in the aluminium industry, with us footing the bill.
We'd just give them 20% of the profits as their share.
"What do you think?"
"... You're really that confident."
"Well, it's not like I can fully understand what the writers are thinking."
Chamberlain stared at the contract for a while.
After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly lifted his head and spoke.
"Let's change the ratio."
"What do you mean?"
"We'll cover 40% of the construction and operational costs. In return, we'll take 40% of the profits."
6:4, huh… Well, that's a reasonable distribution.
"But if this fails, your company will suffer significant losses."
"Of course. But you said it wouldn't fail, didn't you?"
With a hearty laugh, Neville Chamberlain extended his hand.
"If I can, I'd love to help remove lead from London and protect the children. Please, let me join you."
"And it wouldn't hurt to make some money, too."
"... Haha. Isn't that only natural?"
"Good, it's better to be decisive. In that case, it's settled."
"Very well."
"I hope we'll be great partners."
Firmly.
Chamberlain grasped my hand and gave it a solid shake.
***
Of course, the finer details of the contract would be handled by Rowena Rothschild and the accountants at Elliot Steel, but the broad strokes would likely remain within the agreement Chamberlain and I had made.
In other words, we had secured a deal under more favourable conditions than expected, and now all we had to do was wait for the aluminum revolution that Elliot Steel would bring about.
"Well done. What seems to be the problem?"
"No, it's nothing…"
Without realizing it, I placed my hand over my chest.
What was this? I felt something like a gust of wind brushing past the edge of my heart.
Was it because I had just committed a large sum of money? But I knew this would be a massive success. If anything, I should be feeling full of confidence.
Yet, for some reason, my insides were churning as if something was about to happen...
But I couldn't quite grasp what that feeling was.
Because—
"Hey! Are you in here?!"
"Oh, Mr. Newnes."
"Come in. What brings you—?"
"I found out! Damn it, I figured it out!!"
It was George Newnes, the red-faced middle-aged president of The Strand Magazine publisher, George Newnes & Co., who came charging in. Why is his face so red? He looks like a beet.
"Kipling! That damned bastard was Kipling!!"
"Sorry? What bastard?"
"What bastard?!"
The Royal Literary Society!
George Newnes shouted.
"It was him! The one who attacked us—it was that guy!"