Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

​Creeeak...

​The wooden door of The Silver Bell opened slowly. Rianor Sudrath stepped inside, his footing slightly unsteady.

​The blood at the corner of his mouth had dried into a dark crust, but the brutal traces of violence on his face were still glaringly apparent—a deep purple bruise swelled on his right cheekbone, and a small gash above his eyebrow continued to weep warm blood. Behind him, Dom and Naya entered soundlessly, like a pair of shadows returning to their physical bodies. Eva, meanwhile, stood awkwardly at the threshold, wringing the hem of her cloak, unsure of where to step.

​Adul instantly leaped from his wooden chair. ”Lord Rianor! Gods, there’s blood everywhere... I... what happened—”

​”Merely minor superficial damage,” Rianor cut him off flatly.

​”Sir, that is not minor damage!” Adul’s voice pitched up in panic, his hands trembling in confusion.

​Rianor didn’t reply. He collapsed heavily into a wooden chair by the corner hearth—a hearth that had been dead since morning. Yet, he needed a hard surface to support his aching solar plexus, which still throbbed from the blows delivered by Kiyora’s men.

​Naya hurried to the kitchen, returning with a basin of warm water and a clean cloth without needing a single order. ”Forgive me,” Naya whispered, her voice sounding far hoarser than usual. ”I failed to protect you. I was right there, but...”

​”You do not need to waste your energy apologizing, Naya,” Rianor met her eyes calmly. ”That was a logical decision I made myself. You could not have stopped me.”

​”Even so, it is our duty.”

​”Your duty is to secure the mission, not to protect me from the calculated consequences of my own actions.”

​Naya argued no further. Her fingers, which normally wielded lethal daggers, now moved with incredible gentleness, wiping the blood from Rianor’s brow with the damp cloth. Adul stood frozen beside her, holding the basin of water with trembling hands, trying desperately not to spill a single drop.

​In the dim corner of the room, Dom stood leaning against a wooden pillar. His arms were crossed tightly over his massive chest, his eyes staring straight at the floorboards. Dom never exploded in anger—the man simply wasn’t wired for it. But his clenched fists, hidden beneath the folds of his coat, revealed a silent, agonizing regret tearing at his chest.

​Rianor glanced at him. ”Dom.”

​Dom looked up slowly.

​”Thank you.”

​Dom offered a single, firm nod. And for the two of them, that was more than enough.

​From the doorway, Eva recorded the entire interaction with her brown eyes. The fierce bodyguard bowing her head in apology, the cowardly youth faithfully holding the basin despite his trembling, and the giant of a man carrying his regret in absolute silence. The way they looked at Rianor... it wasn’t the gaze of mercenaries looking at the employer who rented their blades. There was something binding them that was far thicker than silver coins.

​Adul suddenly turned, finally registering the hooded girl’s existence. ”W-who... who is she, sir?”

​”Eva. She’s the one who helped me out of the alley,” Rianor answered softly.

​Adul bowed stiffly toward Eva. ”Thank you so much, Miss. You... you saved our Lord’s life.”

​Eva shook her head slowly, pulling her hood back a fraction. ”I was just... passing by.”

​”That is the second lie you’ve told today,” Rianor interjected without needing to look. ”And its truth value remains highly inaccurate.”

​Eva pressed her lips tightly together. Yet, the corner of her mouth twitched upward—an awkward attempt from someone who had seemingly forgotten how to smile for a very long time.

​Click. Thud.

​The inn’s door was pushed open again. Roland stepped inside.

​His footsteps died instantly at the threshold. His eyes widened, taking in the absurd tableau before him: a battered Rianor with a bruised face, Naya gently cleaning his bloody brow, Adul anxiously holding a basin, Dom standing like a statue in the corner, and a strange hooded woman hovering awkwardly near the door.

​Roland was speechless for several seconds.

​Then, a breath of incredulous laughter escaped his lips. ”Hah... you were captured? Tortured? My brother, who would willingly detour a full mile just to avoid a scuffle?”

​”I was not avoiding the problem, Roland,” Rianor stared flatly at his brother. ”I was simply resolving it my own way.”

​”By letting your cheekbone get smashed with iron? How incredibly creative.”

​Roland shook his head in disbelief. He stepped closer, giving Rianor’s shoulder a quick pat to ensure his brother was still in one piece, before his gaze shifted to the girl near the door. ”And... who might this lovely lady be?”

​”Eva.”

​Roland glanced at Rianor, silently requesting a micro-explanation.

​”She intervened to ensure my survival in the alley,” Rianor clarified.

​Roland looked back at Eva, deploying his warmest, most polished diplomatic smile. ”So... you’re the kind soul who dragged my stubborn brother out of death’s grip?”

​Eva stared at Roland flatly. ”Someone had to do it before his skull was cracked open.”

​Roland chuckled crisply. ”Ah, a very logical answer.” He pulled up a wooden chair, sitting casually across from Eva without an ounce of intimidation. ”Are you a Sanctum native?”

​”Yes.”

​”Lived long behind these grey walls?”

​”Long enough to know every dead end.”

​”Then why bother risking your life to save a foreigner?”

​Eva stared straight into Roland’s eyes. ”Why do you throw around so many questions?”

​”Because it is my most loyal survival skill.”

​”Sounds like an exhausting job.”

​”Incredibly,” Roland stood up, his smile widening. ”Welcome to the caravan, Eva. My brother doesn’t arbitrarily bring humans home unless they possess a crucial function.” Roland turned to Rianor. ”I hope you truly understand the consequences of what you’ve done this time, Brother.”

​”I always calculate every action.”

​”And that is exactly what worries me the most on this journey.”

​Once the last traces of blood had been cleaned from Rianor’s face, and Adul had been forced to swap out the warm basin water three times, Roland grabbed Rianor’s arm and pulled him toward the darkest corner of the room. Far out of earshot of the others. At the front table, Naya was helping Eva order some hot soup from the bald innkeeper.

​Roland leaned his shoulder against the stone wall. ”You brought a girl home.”

​”She has high utility. She understands the map of Sanctum’s back-alleys far better than we do,” Rianor replied, meticulously re-bandaging his own hand.

​”Is that the only logical reason?”

​Rianor stared at his brother without a ripple of emotion. ”What other variable were you expecting?”

​Roland offered a mischievous smirk. ”Just wondering... what Elara would say if she knew you brought a Sanctum girl home?”

​Rianor adjusted his spectacles, which were now sitting straight again. ”Elara would methodically ask only two questions: can the girl fight, and can she cook.”

​”And?”

​”For the combat variable, the answer is yes. For cooking... the data is currently unavailable.”

​Roland let out a soft laugh, a genuine sigh of relief. ”You truly never change, Brother.”

​”Is that a concluding compliment?”

​”It’s purely an observation.” Roland glanced toward the dining table, where Eva was sitting quietly, staring at her bowl. ”She’s been staring at you this whole time.”

​”Huh?” Rianor frowned slightly. ”That’s because she is intrigued by the mechanical structure of my Mana Glove. She has never seen magitech circuitry before.”

​Roland stared at his brother’s stoic face for a long moment, then let out a resigned sigh, patting Rianor’s shoulder. ”Of course. Because of your metal glove. You really... never change.”

​The night deepened as they all gathered around the long wooden table.

​Steaming bowls of hot meat stew were served once again by the bald owner. The savory aroma mingled with the scent of crispy toasted rye. Whether due to extreme hunger or the sheer relief following intense peril, tonight’s soup tasted infinitely more delicious.

​Rianor recounted the chronology of events briefly and systematically. The discovery of the symbols, Kiyora’s ambush, the underground interrogation, and the rescue operation executed by Dom and Naya.

​Roland listened with a deeply furrowed brow. ”This faction... they aren’t just a band of common street thugs. They possess a symbolic cipher system and an organized underground tactical base. This is a rebel network.”

​”They won’t dare launch another frontal assault inside Sanctum anytime soon,” Eva interjected softly between bites. ”Too many of Kiyora’s men died tonight. The shrine will instantly catch the scent if they cause any more noise.”

​”However, their leader, Kiyora, is still alive,” Naya cut in sharply.

​”Kiyora is the type of woman who will never forget the face of someone who defeated her,” Eva warned.

​”That is a problem for tomorrow,” Roland tapped his finger against the table, looking at Rianor. ”What is far more pressing right now: Pastor Marius. He must have already caught wind of this skirmish, or at the very least, he will know about it in a matter of hours.”

​”On what basis are you so certain?” Rianor asked.

​”Because this city is infested with the shrine’s eyes and ears in every corner. Corpses in the western warehouses, clashes in the alleyway... someone has surely reported it.” Roland leaned back, his expression returning to dead seriousness. ”The question is no longer whether Marius knows, but rather... what kind of reaction he will show us tomorrow morning.”

​Rianor sipped his soup slowly. ”Is that a detrimental variable for our Travel Pass?”

​”That purely depends on how we package this lie to his face tomorrow,” Roland replied coldly.

​The night wore on, dragging the entire caravan back to their respective rooms.

​Rianor remained in the quiet dining hall, sitting alone in front of the hearth that had long since cooled to ash. His Mana Glove rested on the wooden table. Using a tiny screwdriver, he inspected the micro-circuit hinges, ensuring no mechanical damage had been sustained during the fight. The blue circuitry occasionally pulsed with a faint glow, reflecting in the lenses of his glasses.

​Creeeak...

​Soft footsteps descended the wooden stairs. Eva walked down slowly.

​”You haven’t slept yet,” Eva noted, taking a seat across the table from him.

​”I need to ensure my equipment remains secure and uncompromised,” Rianor answered without lifting his gaze.

​Eva stared at the blue circuits pulsing through the metal fingers of the gauntlet. ”Your brother... he is a very strange, talkative man.”

​”He is a diplomat. He works through words, so speech is his primary instrument.”

​”That is not the answer I wanted to hear.”

​”I know.”

​Silence hung between them once more. Eva stared at Rianor, who was still entirely focused on his gauntlet, as if her presence across from him was nothing more than a passing breeze.

​”Why... did you ultimately allow me to come along?” Eva asked softly, her tone laced with genuine seriousness this time.

​”You were the one who insisted on forcing your way in.”

​”I am asking you seriously, Rianor.”

​Rianor finally set his screwdriver down, looking up to meet Eva’s brown eyes. ”You risked your life to save me in the alley this afternoon. Logically speaking, that action yielded absolutely zero benefit for you, yet you still did it.” Rianor paused for a fraction of a second. ”To me, that is more than enough.”

​Eva was stunned. Something warm fluttered in her chest—a feeling that had been dead for far too long, and was now slowly reigniting its remaining ashes. But Rianor had already looked back down, fully focused on tightening a tiny screw on his gauntlet. Utterly, hopelessly insensitive.

​Eva let out an amused snort. ”You truly are a bizarre man.”

​”Many people have drawn similar conclusions,” Rianor replied flatly.

​They sank back into the quiet of the Sanctum night. The hearth remained cold, but the blue pulse of the Mana Glove on the table continued to glow warmly, keeping the two strangers company as they waited for dawn to break on the eastern horizon.