Mr. Death in the Steam World

Old Sidwin remained silent for a long time.

Looking at the fire burning in his son's eyes, he suddenly remembered many years ago, when Sidwin's mother was still alive.

Back then, little Sidwin would ride on his shoulders, tugging at his hair and giggling, and on stormy nights he would sneak into his parents' bed and whisper, "Daddy, I'm scared."

Those images flashed through my mind.

"Your mother asked me to protect you when she was alive," old Sidwin said softly, as if talking to himself. "I protected you for over twenty years, and now, in the end, I can't protect you anymore."

He turned around, his hunched back slowly disappearing into the night of the mine, without looking back.

Sidwin stood there, watching the direction his father had gone, the curve of his lips gradually fading until it became a straight line.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just clenched his fists and turned to walk deeper into the mine tunnel.

Behind me, the iron gate of the stone building hummed low in the night wind.

......

Old Sidwin recalled how he was when he took over the family business. Back then, he was a young man, ambitious, feeling that the whole North was waiting for him to conquer.

He spent ten years doubling the Ashton family’s mining empire, another ten years consolidating its foundation, and another ten years handing the business over to his son.

Now, he needs to use the rest of his time to think about how to preserve it—or rather, how to leave the family a way out after it is destroyed.

Old Sidwin took off his glasses and pinched his brow with his thumb and forefinger.

He did the math in his mind: if Sidwin really made things out of control, with the church getting involved, the Chamber of Commerce cutting ties, and shareholders withdrawing their investment, what would the Ashton family have left?

The answer is, nothing will be left.

unless--

He put his glasses back on and opened another ledger. It contained records of real estate and overseas accounts under the family name, "insurance" that he had secretly set up without telling anyone back then.

He had thought he would never need these things in his life, but now it seems it's time to dig them out.

Old Sidwin picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote a few lines in the blank space of the account book.

The pen nib scratched across the paper. It had started raining outside the window sometime earlier. Raindrops tapped on the glass and seeped in through the cracks in the window frame, leaving a thin trail of water on the windowsill.

He wrote until midnight, then stopped, carefully read through the pages he had finished, folded them, and stuffed them into an envelope.

After doing all this, old Sidwin leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and remained motionless.

The following morning, in the council chamber of Ashton Estate.

Seated on either side of the long table were several core members of the Ironcrown City Mining Association and major shareholders of the Ashton family.

Catherine Ashton sat on the left side of the long table, a stack of documents spread out in front of her, the top one marked with several alarming numbers in red ink.

"The seventeenth day of martial law in the mining area." Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

"Ore production has decreased by 43% year-on-year, transportation costs have doubled, and the accumulated penalties for breach of contract have reached this amount—"

She turned the document to the other side of the long table.

"I don't think the Ashton family can withstand such a drain."

On the right side of the long table, a shareholder with graying hair nodded: "Catherine is right. Sidwin, you need to give us an explanation."

Sidwin sat at the top of the long table, one hand supporting his chin, the other casually twirling a gold coin.

"Explanation?" he repeated the word, as if he'd heard a funny joke. "What do I need to explain to you?"

"Explain what you were doing in the mine," Catherine's voice turned cold.

"Explain who those men in black robes are, explain why the miners are disappearing one after another, and explain why the church people are starting to inquire about the Ashton family in Ironcrown."

"Cousin," Sidwin said with a hint of impatience, "I don't need to explain myself to anyone."

"you--"

"However—" Sidwin flicked the gold coin onto the table. It spun a few times before landing with a thud on the documents in front of Catherine.

"Since you're so eager to know, then I'll tell you."

He stood up, placed his hands on the table, leaned forward slightly, and scanned every face on both sides of the long table.

"You will soon find out that this loss is nothing to worry about."

The shareholders looked at each other, while Catherine sat there motionless.

After the meeting adjourned, she was the last to leave the council chamber.

"Miss Catherine."

The butler walked down the corridor, holding an unsigned letter.

"Someone asked me to give this to you."

Catherine took the letter, tore open the seal, and pulled out a neatly folded letter.

The letter contained only one line of text, written in neat and familiar handwriting.

"If you need help, you know where to find me."

There was no signature, but Catherine knew who wrote it.

She remembered the young lady from the Manluo family who was arm in arm with her "distant cousin" at the club last night, her blue eyes, and every word she had said to her and every question she had asked.

At the time, she thought it was just polite small talk between noble ladies, but now, looking back, every word seemed like a carefully designed hook.

Catherine folded the letter and tucked it into her sleeve.

She turned around, looked at the tightly closed council chamber door at the end of the corridor, and remained silent for a moment.

"Prepare the carriage for me," she said. "I'm going out."

The butler bowed slightly and did not ask any further questions.

The carriage traveled along the dusty streets of Ironcrown City toward the south and stopped in front of an inconspicuous gray brick building.

Catherine got out of the car, straightened her skirt, and pushed open the door of the Swallow Inn.

The proprietress was dozing at the front desk when she heard the door open. She looked up abruptly and was about to greet them when Catherine raised her hand to stop her.

"I'm looking for Miss Manluo."

The proprietress sized her up, probably thinking that this noblewoman's attire didn't suggest she was there to cause trouble, and gestured towards the upstairs area with her chin.

"The innermost room on the second floor."

Catherine went upstairs, stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath, and raised her hand to knock.

The door opened quickly.

Emily stood inside the door, her blue eyes showing no surprise, as if she had expected Emily to come.

"Mrs. Catherine." She stepped aside to let her in. "Please come in."

Catherine stepped into the room and sat down in a chair by the window.

Emily closed the door, sat down opposite her, offered no tea, made no small talk, and simply watched her quietly.

There was a few seconds of silence.

"Miss Manro, I'll be frank." Catherine raised her eyes, looking directly at Emily.

"Sidwin has lost control. I don't know what he's doing in the mine, but the information he gave me confirmed one thing—"

Her voice was very low, so low that only two people could hear it.

"The Ashton family is being dragged off a cliff by him, and I don't want to be the one who gets dragged down with them."

Emily picked up her teacup, took a sip, and looked at her over the rim of the cup.

"So you came to find me because you wanted to—"

"I want to know what you're doing," Catherine interrupted her, "and how I can help. On the condition that—"

She paused, her tone becoming more serious.

"My only requirement is that your actions do not completely destroy the Ashton family, preserve the name, and prevent the family from being uprooted."

The room was quiet for a moment.

Emily put down her teacup, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

"Mrs. Catherine, you have made a wise decision."

She took a neatly folded piece of parchment from the drawer and unfolded it on the table.

It was a hand-drawn map of the mining area, with different colored ink marking the mine tunnels, entrances, guard positions, and an area heavily marked with a red circle.

"Since you're willing to help, the first thing we need you to do is—"

Emily's fingertip landed on an area marked "Slum" on the east side of the map.

"Tell us where Sidwin has locked the girl up."