A strange start to the day for one transmigrator.
Richie lay in bed, confused. He glanced at the gold tower clock. It was surprising - it was already twenty to eight, and no one had woken him. Usually he was awakened earlier, but today the now-customary arrival of his valet had been absent.
Richard thought something bad had happened, so he jumped out of bed.
He rushed to the door and ran out into the hallway, still in his pajamas. Looking around, the boy saw no one, which was surprising.
The boy walked down the corridor towards the dining room and only there did he notice the servants' activity.
A slender young brunette in a maid's uniform was setting the table. She immediately spotted the young gentleman and nodded politely to him.
"Good morning, Mr. Richie," she said in a singsong voice.
"Good morning," the boy looked around the dining room in bewilderment. "Where is everyone? Where's John? It's almost eight in the morning, and he hasn't woken me up."
"Mr. Richie, today is Sunday," the maid answered politely. "John has the day off."
Richie was confused. He'd completely lost track of time, both literally and figuratively. The transmigrator had been so busy immersing himself in his new life that he'd forgotten to keep track of the days of the week. After all, a person can't work without days off. After all, John isn't a slave, but a hired hand. It's surprising that he only gets one day off a week.
"So what should I do?" the boy muttered at length.
The maid took the question personally and hastened to answer:
- Sir, I think you should wash yourself, change into other clothes and rest.
- Um... Sorry, miss, I forgot your name.
- Lucy, sir.
- Yes, Lucy. My apologies. Could you tell me what I usually do on Sundays? I understand correctly that I don't have any classes today?
"Quite right, young master," Lucy replied. "As far as I know, you usually visited your friend on Sundays after breakfast."
Since the transmigrator didn't remember any friends, he couldn't think of anything better to say than to ask:
- Which one?
- Sir, I can't say for sure, perhaps you have other friends, but you used to be friends with Miss Harriet Tomlinson. A nice girl.
"Oh, Harriet!" said Richie, as if he'd remembered who they were talking about. "Thank you, Lucy. And is her father, Mr. Tomlinson, still doing the same thing?"
The maid thought for a moment, then replied:
- When I was last in Chester, Mr. Tomlinson's curtain factory was still there.
Richie almost chuckled out loud.
"Curtains? Are you serious?!" the boy thought. "The son of a billionaire duke is friends with the daughter of a small-time curtain manufacturer? I'm sure that business isn't destined to stay afloat for long."
The transmigrator remembered well from history that in the past, which now seemed like the near future to him, due to the global development of trade relations and communications, particularly the global spread of the internet and affordable computer technology, many goods had become unprofitable to produce in countries with expensive labor. Most manufacturing was shifted to China and other Asian countries. Taking curtains, for example, it became much cheaper to import them from China than to produce them in Europe. This led to the bankruptcy of many small European manufacturing businesses.
- Thank you, Lucy.
Richie hurried back to his room. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, changed into his usual light blue jeans and a black T-shirt, and then went downstairs for breakfast. He arrived just in time for a fully set table, where Gerald was seated.
"Good morning, father," the boy bowed his head slightly, standing near the table.
"Richie, good morning," Gerald replied.
"Dad, do you have some free time? I'd like to discuss the Richs' financial situation with you. I discussed it with my economics tutor, but I'm still unclear on a lot of things because the professor doesn't know the specifics of our finances."
- Okay, we'll discuss it after breakfast. Richie, why are you dressed like that?
"Dad, but today is Sunday. I thought, since it's a free day... I usually meet my girlfriend at this time."
Richie hadn't actually planned to visit his "girlfriend." What was he supposed to talk about with someone his age? Discuss dolls?! He'd simply put on the most comfortable clothes he could find, as he was tired of wearing suits.