Goblin Rikbet was in seventh heaven. From this deal alone, he had managed to earn the bank more than sixteen thousand Galleons, from which he was due a substantial bonus. Not for a moment did he regret volunteering to become the young lord's personal manager. Now he would show everyone who had laughed at him for believing a boy's claim about exchanging millions of pounds! Yes, Rikbet would very much enjoy seeing the sour faces of the kinsmen who had missed their chance.
A couple of weeks after the visit to Spencer & Phillips, the three-story shell of the house and the stone hangar were complete.
Richard signed a contract with his father's firm for the finishing work, which he intended to pay for from the remaining funds in his account. There was a considerable amount of work to be done: installing sewage, drilling a well and laying water pipes, as well as setting up ventilation, heating, electrical wiring, and completing the interior finishing. The only remaining issue was providing electricity, but Richard planned to install a diesel generator. The boy even had ideas on how to make the generator operate run in budget mode. In the first case, wizards would enchant it so that it worked without fuel; in the second, hired mages would restore the volume of fuel using the Hausdorff–Banach–Tarski paradox.
In addition, equipment for the auto workshop was ordered: a lift, tools, jacks, and the like. Naturally, furniture had to be purchased as well.
With some regret, Richard sold a small number of shares, as his bank account had shown bottom far too quickly. Ordinary people demanded proper pay for their work. Even considering that the order placed with Grosvenor Group was calculated at cost of materials and workers' wages, the total still came out substantial.
Several crews worked simultaneously on the construction site in order to meet the severely compressed deadlines.
***
Richard's schedule returned to its usual rhythm: aerobics, studying, fencing, and charm practice. With the diligence worthy of an overachieving student, he prepared for his fourth-year middle school exams.
One Wednesday in mid-May began as usual, but his physics tutoring session was suddenly interrupted by John.
"Master Richie, your father urgently requests you."
"John, what's happened?"
"Master Richie, a man from Her Majesty's secret service has arrived to see Mr. Gerald. Your father asked me to fetch you."
Secret service? flashed through Richard's mind. What do I have to do with that? Or is this about the platinum? Damn it, please not that! How am I supposed to behave in a situation like this? This is bad…
Richard descended into the sitting room with a deep sense of anxiety. Outwardly, however, maintaining stony composure, he cast an indifferent glance at the guest—a well-built man of about thirty-five.
The visitor was tall, with short, thick black hair and gray eyes. He wore a classic black suit.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Richie said politely.
His father greeted his son with a warm smile and said:
"Richie, allow me to introduce MI6 agent Mr. Alex Blade. Mr. Blade, this is my son, Richard."
"Pleasure to meet you, Lord Richard Grosvenor," the intelligence agent inclined his head politely.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Blade."
Carefully concealing his nerves, Richie sat down on the sofa beside his father, facing Alex.
Blade… That sounds familiar, Richard's thoughts spun. Back in my previous life, I think they made us read stories in school during literature classes—classics of early isekai fiction—and one of the first stories of that kind had a protagonist with the same last name.
"Sir," the boy addressed the agent in a joking tone, "would you, by any chance, be acquainted with Richard Blade—the one who traveled to parallel worlds with his consciousness using special equipment?"
Mr. Blade visibly tensed and, in a steel-edged voice, asked:
"How do you know about my father and Project 'Dimension X'?"
Utterly stunned, not having expected such a response to an innocent joke, Richard froze for a couple of seconds.
"Sir, it was just a flash of insight. That happens to me sometimes."
"A seer…" Mr. Blade whispered warily.
"Please forgive Richard; he occasionally has flashes of inspiration," Gerald said politely. "Geniuses can be difficult…"
"Yes, yes, my Lord," Mr. Blade agreed with feigned composure.
"Richie, Agent Blade has come to us on important business. Mr. Blade, if you would be so kind, please briefly explain the matter to Richard."
"Ahem… Very well. The police received a report from a farmer named Creevey, claiming that he had caught an alien on his property."
Cough…cough…
Richard nearly choked with laughter. To hide his amusement, he coughed and covered his mouth with his fist. Under his father's reproachful gaze, the boy sheepishly lowered his eyes and said:
"Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe."
"It's all right," Mr. Blade smirked knowingly. "I laughed too when I first heard it. However, our officers verified the information by observing the Creevey family farm for some time. They confirmed that someone of small stature is living at Mr. Creevey's residence. They reported this to their superiors. Presumably, Mr. Creevey has captured some sort of magical creature."
"And what does that have to do with us?" Richard looked at the agent with genuine bewilderment.
"Son, the Creeveys have long been our tenants."
"That's correct, Lord Grosvenor," Agent Blade confirmed with a nod. "Ordinarily, this would be a matter for wizards to handle. However, in order to contact them, one must report either to the Prime Minister or to the royal family. Since this matter concerns the Grosvenor family, the leadership decided to report directly to you."
"Um, I see," Richard exhaled in relief, realizing this had nothing to do with platinum. "If the 'alien' was invisible to your agents, but visible to the farmer—and he called the police instead of the Aurors—then I would assume Mr. Creevey is a Squib and doesn't even know it himself."
"Most likely," Mr. Blade agreed, once again demonstrating his familiarity with the magical world. "What do you intend to do, Lord Grosvenor?" he asked, turning to Gerald.
(End of Chapter)
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