The Incompetent Emperor Who Changes the World from the Shadows: Iron, Gunpowder, and the Young Maidens of Favor - Chapter 10: Prototypes and Field Feedback

Chapter 10: Prototypes and Field Feedback

“…Imperial Capital, Fifth District, Ash Wall Alley.

We’ve leased and renovated a warehouse site.

Equipment was delivered yesterday, and it’s ready to operate starting today.”

Standing before my desk, Ariel delivers a concise report.

Her posture is straight, her gaze direct.

It’s a refreshing sight.

“Right on schedule.

How’s the new technician doing?”

“…You mean Raum Schwartz, the engineer?

He’s a lecturer in chemistry at the Imperial University of Engineering, so I expected a refined gentleman.

But honestly, my first impression wasn’t great.

That said, when it comes to experiments, he’s like a different person.

He was so focused he barely responded when spoken to.”

“Hmm.”

For the past few days, I haven’t left my office once.

To avoid arousing suspicion from Chancellor Vogler, I need to limit my movements.

I’m careful to ensure Gerda’s reports to him don’t give anything away.

That’s why I’ve entrusted Ariel with gathering information from the outside.

“…Do you remember my top priority instruction?”

“Yes.

To develop a ‘liquid detergent with cleaning power, gentle on the skin, and usable in room-temperature or cold water.’”

“Exactly.

I want Schwartz to start with extracting solutions from coal.”

“He said that if the naphthalene structure doesn’t break down during liquid-phase separation, we can expect a certain level of surfactant activity.”

“Schwartz understands it well.”

That’s exactly what his paper indicated.

Sulfonates derived from coal.

There’s no guarantee they’ll work as a detergent—but it’s worth trying.

“Now it’s just a matter of how quickly we can get results.”

“…Yes.”

Ariel’s response is brief but firm.

In her hands, she holds the keys to the research lab and a notebook for administrative tasks.

She’s not just a figurehead.

She’s already taking on the role of someone who “makes things happen.”

I glance out the window again.

Somewhere under this sky, in a corner of the imperial capital, a “new endeavor” is about to begin.

It hasn’t achieved practical results yet.

But that moment is steadily approaching.

Ariel finishes her report and leaves the room.

I wait until the door closes, then lean back in my chair and let out a breath.

“…What was Schwartz like?

You followed Ariel, didn’t you?”

Sopina, perched on the window’s upper frame, swings her legs as she responds to my question.

His face is intimidating, but he’s meticulous.

He wiped down the equipment carefully and handled chemicals with caution.

He’s probably serious about the research itself.

But his people skills are a disaster.

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone the whole time.

“That’s a common type among researchers.”

But I don’t think he’s a bad person.

When Ariel spoke to him, he did respond properly… in a quiet voice, though.

“If he’s responsive, that’s good enough.

As long as his hands are working, I don’t care about his mouth.”

As I speak, I skim through Ariel’s report memo.

The “temperature” and “atmosphere” Sopina observed aren’t captured in the numbers on the page.

But combining both perspectives, it’s clear the operation is off to a smooth start.

I mark the edge of the memo lightly.

“Alright, now it’s all about results.”

※

The next day, Ariel brings a report detailing a “triple failure.”

It doesn’t lather.

It doesn’t clean stains.

It irritates the skin.

Thoughtfully, she even included a sample cloth piece.

An oily film remains, with a faint soap-like smell—but it’s clearly “not clean.”

As I read the report, I glance at Ariel’s expression.

She doesn’t try to hide the failure.

She speaks little but conveys the facts accurately.

That’s what makes her trustworthy.

“At what stage did they decide it ‘wasn’t effective’?”

“When the initial prototype showed no lathering, they concluded cleaning potential was low.

They tried adjusting the components afterward, but the oil still didn’t come out.”

“What about the skin irritation?”

“One of the maids handling the cloth developed mild inflammation.

It could be that the cleaning agent was too concentrated or the solvent irritated the skin…

The details are still unclear.”

“…Hmm.”

It’s within expectations.

Or rather, it’s the natural outcome.

Schwartz and his team don’t know what a “detergent” is.

They have no concept of surfactants or how specific structures function.

Even if a compound extracted from coal happens to have “promising” effects, without a blueprint to guide them, they’ll veer off course.

I lower my gaze and slowly write on a blank sheet of paper.

Notes:

Lathering = surfactant activity.

Balance of hydrophilic and hydrophobic groups.

Adjust carbon chain length → balance penetration and irritation.

Skin irritation = issues with pH, residual hydrolysis products, solvent purity.

Goal: “Low-irritation, high-emulsifying synthetic liquid usable at water temperatures below 10°C.”

Lathering in cold water = a “visible result” for consumers.

Sopina leans on the back of my chair, peering down at me.

To me, it all looks like some kind of magic spell.

So, what’s missing?

(In their approach. They’re mixing things hoping for a hit.

We know “how to make it hit.”)

I respond to Sopina in my mind.

Then just tell them.

(The problem is “how” to tell them.)

I slip the technical memo into an envelope and hand it to Ariel.

“Ariel, the contents of this envelope are notes from one of the investors, provided ‘for reference.’

Tell them to judge its reliability for themselves.”

I don’t reveal my name or identity.

But the knowledge will still reach them.

Only those who can understand it need to use it.

“Thank you.

Will this make the development succeed?”

“Whether it succeeds depends on them.

I’m just pointing them in the right direction.”

She smiles, says, “I’ll pass it on,” and leaves the room.

…Pretty technical, but not a bad move.

Sopina mutters.

“Even without my name, as long as we get ‘results,’ it’s meaningful.

The emperor’s name isn’t needed here.”

I glance out the window.

Snow has started to fall, and the sky is a murky gray.

I don’t reveal my name or identity.

But the knowledge will still reach them.

Only those who can understand it need to use it.

Yet, inside that research lab, something is definitely moving forward.

If we don’t get results, I’ll just think of the next step.

But for now, we’ll try “this approach” first.

That’s the priority.

※

Three days later.

Ariel visits my office again.

In her hands is the usual report, along with a familiar envelope clipped to it.

I handed over the technical memo during our last meeting.

“Schwartz was poring over that document.

At first, he was skeptical, but he said, ‘The logic holds up.’

This morning, the prototype moved to the second phase.”

“What’s his reaction?”

“…It lathered.”

There’s a faint but noticeable passion in Ariel’s voice as she says this.

“They adjusted the concentration and ran small-scale mixing experiments.

Until yesterday, the liquid kept separating, but this morning, it finally approached a stable emulsified state.”

“Did Schwartz say that?”

“Yes.

He said, ‘This compound group likely has the potential to become a cleaning agent.’”

I see—we’ve finally reached this point.

But it’s still not the “real thing.”

Lathering and being usable are different.

“Have you tried it yourself?”

When I ask, Ariel pauses briefly, as if searching for words.

Then, from beneath the envelope, she pulls out a small bottle.

It’s a colorless, transparent liquid with a slight viscosity.

“I tested this liquid.

I washed cloth in that cold water, as usual…

I used several worn-out pieces of cloth, comparing them under the same conditions.”

She stops for a moment.

“…My hands didn’t hurt as much.”

Her voice is quiet, but that one sentence carries weight.

“With the usual soap, my hands would crack every time I washed.

But this liquid… it was slippery, yet it rinsed off quickly.

It didn’t leave a film on my skin, but the stains on the cloth lifted off—”

She gazes at her fingertips, as if confirming the sensation again.

“Above all, it didn’t feel cold.”

“Didn’t feel cold?”

“Yes.

The water was still cold, to be precise.

But… the bubbles formed right away.

Those bubbles stayed on my hands, and even in cold water, it didn’t hurt.

Maybe it’s partly psychological.

But I felt, ‘With this detergent, I can keep working a bit longer.’”

I’m at a loss for words for a moment.

Ariel’s sensation can’t be measured in numbers.

But as the “user’s experience,” it’s more accurate than anything.

Sopina, behind me, says quietly—unheard by Ariel, of course.

Hey, doesn’t that mean… it’s already “ready to be a product”?

(…It’s still just a “prototype.”)

But it’s already a “detergent.”

Something that can actually be used by hand.

I nod.

This sensation, these words—they’re proof it can be “sold to someone.”

It’s not about scientific correctness.

It’s about sensory trust.

That’s what moves people.

“Move to the next phase.

Stabilize the formula based on this.

And—make it something ‘people want to use.’”

“Yes, I’ll pass it on.”

Ariel bows deeply, clutching her notebook, and heads out the door.

Watching her leave, I let out a quiet breath.

The bubbles are finally starting to take shape.

Now, it’s about deciding “who” will use them.