* * *

“Shall we head to Mr. Roberto’s factory?”

“Yes, please.”

Remy had been unable to visit Roberto’s factory yesterday due to the late hour.

Meeting Oliver daily made it easy to postpone such errands.

“But, brother.”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you sweating so much? It’s not even hot today.”

“Oh, that…”

The truth was, carrying the heavy basket all this way was an impressive feat for someone like Remy.

His body was drenched in sweat despite the cool weather.

“Is it… because of this?”

“Huh?”

“The basket. Is it too heavy?”

“Uh…”

Remy, caught off guard, tried to act as if it wasn’t.

He had his pride to uphold and couldn’t show weakness in front of a child.

“No, no! I’m just hot. Maybe I wore too many layers…”

“But you don’t look overdressed.”

Just pretend you believe me… Remy thought, forcing a smile.

Then, Oliver stretched out his small hands.

“Let me carry it.”

“Huh?”

“The basket. Give it to me.”

“Why?”

“I’ll carry it for you.”

Remy chuckled at the sight.

Oliver, who was half his size, wanted to carry the basket?

While the gesture was endearing, it was unnecessary.

The adult should bear the load.

“No, it’s fine. This is too heavy for you.”

“It’s okay. I’m strong.”

“I’m telling you, it’s heavy.”

“It doesn’t look that heavy.”

Remy’s temple twitched at the subtle challenge.

“Not heavy, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Then go ahead, try it.”

With a smirk, Remy handed over the basket, certain Oliver would struggle and give up instantly.

Oliver, however, took the basket with both hands and held it steadily.

“Well? Heavy, isn’t it?”

Remy’s confidence shattered when Oliver responded flatly.

“Not at all.”

“Huh…?”

“It’s much lighter than the milk canisters I deliver to Mrs. Francesca’s place.”

“…Oh.”

“And you were struggling with this?”

“Hey! Who said I was struggling?!”

Remi let out an exaggerated snort, practically puffing air from his nostrils in frustration.

Watching this, Oliver responded with a flat expression and a brief reply.

“Oh, sure.”

That was it.

And with that, Remy clamped his mouth shut.

This kid.

He had seemed like nothing more than a sweet, innocent little thing, but apparently, he also had a knack for getting under people’s skin.

He was proving to be more multifaceted than Remy had initially thought.

“Just like Ashton,” he mused.

No, it wasn’t just a resemblance—it was uncanny.

If Ashton were to turn into a child, wouldn’t he be just like this?

The thought triggered an unexpected pang of curiosity in Remi. How was Ashton doing?

Ever since their hunting trip, Remy had been consistently rejecting Ashton’s visits.

What could he be up to now…?

Remi abruptly shook his head as if to physically rid himself of the notion.

Thinking about Ashton?

Absolutely not. It was absurd.

“Have I lost my mind? Why am I even thinking about Ashton? That insufferable alpha—why now of all times?!”

“Hyung?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Oliver tilted his head, watching Remy shake his own with a puzzled expression.

Sensing the need to deflect, Remy quickly changed the subject.

“Where are we? We must be close by now, right?”

“Yeah, just around that corner.”

“Good.”

As they rounded the bend into a dead-end alley, Oliver stopped and pointed at a spot.

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air from a nearby bakery.

Just beside it was Roberto’s factory.

“There. It’s in the basement of that building next to the bakery.”

Remi’s eyes lit up. Finally, they’d arrived at Roberto’s factory.

“That’s it—Roberto’s factory.”

“Yup.”

Handing the basket he had been carrying back to Remy, Oliver stretched out a hand expectantly.

The agreed-upon 10 shillings payment.

“Oh, right!”

Hurriedly, Remy fished out the coins he had set aside in his pocket and placed them in Oliver’s hand.

Oliver took the money, bowed politely, and muttered a quiet thanks.

“Oliver, and here…”

Initially, Remy had planned to deliver it to Oliver’s house, but seeing how fit Oliver was, he decided to change his plans.

Instead, he handed the basket directly to him.

“This isn’t bread today. I brought something else instead. Bread all the time isn’t great for you, so take this and share it with your siblings.”

Oliver blinked up at him in surprise.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not weird. I made sure it’s something the kids would like.”

“But why…?”

“Don’t argue. Just take it. It’s in place of the bread.”

“…”

“Consider it a little extra for the trouble of carrying the basket this far.”

Oliver could tell it was a weak excuse.

If the items were meant for him to begin with, why would carrying them warrant additional compensation?

It was just a flimsy pretext for Remy to avoid making him feel uncomfortable.

“Alright, thank you, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on. Share it with your siblings and enjoy.”

“I will.”

Clutching the basket with both hands, Oliver bowed again, his politeness almost excessive.

Watching him, a broad grin spread across Remy’s face.

“Take care, Oliver. Let’s meet here again tomorrow.”

“You too, hyung. Stay safe and watch out for the heat.”

“Sure, sure…”

Heat in early autumn?

Well, the parting words were odd, but Oliver’s adorableness made it forgivable.

‘That kid’s going to be something else when he grows up,” Remy muttered, chuckling as he turned away.

“Alright. Let’s see… I’m supposed to head to the basement, right?”

Just as in the original story, Roberto’s factory was located underground.

A dark, damp space reeking of ink—a fitting description for such a dilapidated establishment.

Knock, knock, knock.

Remi rapped on the wooden door, cautious.

Despite being a factory, the place was eerily quiet, devoid of even the faintest sound of life.

Glancing around, he hesitated before stepping inside.

Swallowing hard, he finally called out.

“Anyone here?”

No response.

Clearing his throat, he raised his voice and tried again.

“Hello? Anyone here??”

“Who’s there?”

“Argh!”

A figure materialized without warning from the darkness, startling Remy so badly he stumbled backward.

Heart pounding, he clutched his chest as he caught sight of the shadowy figure—a stout, limping man unmistakably fitting the description of Roberto.

“Are you Roberto?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m here to request a job.”

Roberto stepped forward, his stocky frame and uneven gait mirroring the character from the original story.

“What does someone like you want with me?”

The sharp smell of alcohol made Remy’s nose wrinkle.

So, the rumors were true—Roberto was a heavy drinker.

But drunk this early in the day?

“What else would I come to a printing press for? I need something printed.”

“There are plenty of other printers around.”

“Well, you see…”

Remi hesitated, leaning closer as if to share a secret.

He lowered his voice.

“It’s a bit… sensitive.”

Roberto stared at him blankly, his lack of reaction almost unnerving.

Remy found himself faltering under the weight of the silence.

“Um, Roberto?”

Growing restless, Remy pressed on.

“Aren’t you going to say something—”

“I’m not doing it.”

“…What?”

“I said I’m not doing it.”

“Why? I can pay you plenty—”

“Doesn’t matter. I said no. Now go. This factory’s shut down.”

With that, Roberto turned and hobbled away.

Alarmed, Remy quickly followed.

“What do you mean shut down? Why?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“But I came all this way—”

“And I didn’t ask you to.”

“Well, at least tell me why—”

Roberto stopped abruptly, and Remy almost ran into his back.

“Roberto…?”

“You want to know why?”

“…Yes?”

“Then open your eyes. Look around. See what kind of state this factory is in.”

Though his tone was calm, there was a seething undercurrent of anger in his words.

For the first time, Remy began to sense there was more to Roberto’s story.

* * *