CHAPTER 137: CHAPTER 137

After a few more exchanges, Audrey finally rose from her chair. She gave him a graceful curtsy, her smile soft but lingering, and then turned to leave. The soft swish of her gown and the quiet click of the door closing behind her left the study steeped in silence once more.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, staring at the half-finished notes on his desk, yet unable to focus. A hollow feeling settled in his chest.

Of course, he was fine with solitude. He had always been fine with it. Before his transmigration, he had lived much the same way—an introvert who preferred books to banquets, thought to chatter, solitude to shallow company. He had long believed he could endure a lifetime of silence, so long as he had something to build, something to dream of.

But this time felt different.

It wasn’t the silence itself that unsettled him, but what came before it—the warmth of conversation, the spark of dialogue. For all his plans, his strategies, his endless calculations, Arthur had to admit something he rarely confessed even to himself: no matter how introverted a man was, there were moments when you wanted another voice in the room to chat with or argue.

For someone like him, it wasn’t just any voice. He despised false people—sycophants who smothered him with empty praise, nobles who bowed and smiled with daggers hidden in their words. No, what Arthur valued was something rarer. A person who listened not to flatter, but to understand. Someone unafraid to challenge him, to question his ideas, to grow alongside them rather than blindly accept them.

And somehow, Audrey had become that person.

He did not think of it as love. Not yet. He had no experience in such things. But he could not deny the lightness her presence brought to the study, nor the way her laughter stayed echoing in his mind even after she was gone.

Arthur exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose before returning his gaze to the piles of parchment. Plans, strategies, and calculations lay waiting for him. He had a kingdom to build, a market to control, and enemies to outmaneuver.

And yet, his thoughts drifted—not to steel, nor pig iron, nor politics—but to when Audrey might visit him again. When her voice might fill this silent chamber once more.

Arthur tried to drag his focus back to the parchments before him, to the plans he still needed to draft, the market strategies that demanded his attention. But the words blurred together, refusing to anchor his mind. For some reason, he found himself wanting something else—conversation, connection. Not just with Audrey, though her presence weighed most heavily on him, but with others as well.

It was an unfamiliar feeling. Loneliness.

Arthur had spent most of his life—both in his past world and in this one—content with solitude. Yet as he sat surrounded by ink and silence, he realized that even the most steadfast introvert could grow weary of their own company. What use was building a kingdom if there was no one to share the weight of it, no one to speak to who could meet him sincerely?

He let out a long, weary sigh, his amber eyes softening as he pushed himself to his feet. The papers could wait a little longer. For now, he needed air, and perhaps the company of another voice—even if only a servant, a guard, or a scholar in the halls.

With measured steps, Arthur left the study, his thoughts still tugging between markets and memories of Audrey’s laughter.

Arthur stepped out of the study, the heavy wooden door closing behind him with a soft thud. The hallway stretched before him, lined with tall windows that spilled pale light across the stone floor. His boots echoed softly against the polished tiles as he walked, the silence of his study replaced with the faint hum of life within the castle.

Guards saluted as he passed, and though Arthur usually acknowledged them with nothing more than a curt nod, today he allowed himself a few words—simple greetings, small exchanges. Their eyes widened slightly, surprised at the king’s sudden warmth, but none dared question it.

He continued onward, drifting past several workshops built into the castle’s lower wings. One rang with the clang of hammers against steel, smiths forging blades destined for the armory. Another smelled of oil and sawdust, carpenters bent over new designs for wagons and waterwheels. In yet another, alchemists argued heatedly over measurements, their tables cluttered with bubbling glass flasks and half-finished enchantments.

Arthur lingered in each for a time, asking questions, exchanging a few words. To the smiths, he praised the strength of their steel. To the carpenters, he offered a suggestion on sturdier wheel designs. To the alchemists, he made a passing remark about efficiency. None of these conversations were long or profound, but they were genuine, and he found the heaviness in his chest easing with each interaction.

At last, his steps carried him to the courtyard where the blast furnace project rose like a monument of brick and iron. Smoke curled from the great chimney, workers shouting as molten streams poured into molds below. Arthur’s eyes scanned the site almost instinctively, searching for a familiar figure.

But Audrey was not there.

He stood for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering on the furnace as though willing her to appear. When it became clear she would not, a faint, quiet disappointment stirred within him. He did not allow it to show, not to the workers bustling around him, but he felt it nonetheless.

With a measured breath, Arthur turned and made his way back toward the study. Audrey had not been at the furnaces, and though a faint trace of disappointment lingered, he could not call the walk a waste. He had spoken with his people, traded words instead of silence, and in doing so the weight pressing on his chest had eased. The solitude no longer felt so suffocating.

When he finally returned to the quiet of his study, the chamber felt different. It was still empty, yes—but not hollow. The silence no longer gnawed at him; instead, it felt like a space he could breathe in again. His mind, once cluttered and restless, was clearer now, refreshed and ready to return to his work.

Arthur let out a slow exhale, almost a sigh of relief. He found himself able to enjoy the solitude even more than before.

[Note: I’ve realized that Arthur may have come across as a bit blunt. Character development hasn’t always been my strongest skill, but after reading more on human nature and psychology, I want to start weaving in subtle traits and emotions that make him feel more relatable. The changes won’t be drastic, but you should begin to notice more depth in how Arthur thinks and feels. I will try my best, thou I am not too confident I will nail it:)

Also, a quick heads-up for what’s coming: starting in the next Chapter, the story will begin exploring concepts from microeconomics—things like supply and demand, elasticity, deadweight loss, international trade and so on. Don’t worry, I’ll introduce these ideas gradually through many Chapter and in a way that fits naturally into the narrative, so by the end you’ll have a solid grasp of the basics while still enjoying the story

If you already know microeconomics and notice that I explain/use theories incorrectly, please feel free to point it out. Of course, there are often multiple perspectives on economics, but I’m always open to discussing and even debating why I’ve taken a certain approach. And if you manage to convince me I’m wrong, I’ll gladly admit it and adjust the story to reflect that. But it is unlikely that will be the case:) hehe try to humble this arrogant me :]