I stood before the door to the Lynch family dining room, my palms cold and sweaty despite the cool morning air sweeping through the marble corridor. From behind the sturdy mahogany door carved with the emblem of a gear and hammer—the symbol of the God of Steam and Machinery—came faint rustling sounds and the delicate clinking of neatly arranged silverware. Taking as deep a breath as I could muster, I decided to enter the first battlefield of my life as John Lynch.
The room that unfolded before me was more magnificent than I had imagined. Cream-colored marble floors with intricate mosaic patterns stretched for twenty meters, high walls adorned with dark wood panels and gold trim. In the center of the room stood an eight-meter-long dining table made of old mahogany imported from the Southern Continent, with ten tall, carved chairs lined up neatly like soldiers awaiting orders.
Six servants stood stiffly along the walls, each in strategic positions allowing them to observe every corner of the room. Their hands were folded neatly in front of their impeccable black-and-white uniforms, faces neutral yet their eyes watchful like eagles surveilling their prey. They were like statues waiting only for a command to come to life, part of a household machine that had been running with precision for decades.
"Young Master," greeted one of the older servants in a soft voice that was nevertheless clear in the quiet room, his tone like a delicate bell breaking the silence.
He bowed respectfully and pointed towards the third chair from the head of the table, designated for me. I nodded back, trying to cover my nervousness with the indifferent attitude typical of John that I recalled from his memories.
My chair was on the left side of the table, next to Viola's seat. From John's memory, I knew this was a fixed position since he was ten years old and considered mature enough to join family dinners. I pulled out the heavy teakwood chair and sat down, feeling the deep red velvet cushioning the seat comfortably.
My eyes were inadvertently drawn to the dishes already served in front of each seat. Deep-fried Sailfish with perfectly crispy browned skin, surrounded by seasonal vegetables arranged artistically to resemble blooming flowers. The aroma of spices from the Southern Continent filled the air—cinnamon, cloves, and something unfamiliar yet appetizing which I later recognized as Intis pepper powder.
"Incredible," I muttered inwardly, gazing at the four perfectly arranged plates of food on the pristine white linen tablecloth embroidered with golden thread. Each dish was served on blue-and-gold patterned porcelain plates I recognized as an exclusive design from a famous Backlund factory. Above the food, gleaming silverware had been arranged with perfect precision—three forks on the left, three knives and spoons on the right, each with a specific function I didn't even fully understand.
There were four chairs at this table, one at the end facing the other three. That central chair belonged to Charles Lynch—taller and more magnificent than the others, with more intricate gear carvings and wide armrests made of ebony wood. The chair was like a small throne in the mini-kingdom of the Lynch family.
I promptly walked towards the chair I usually occupied—I mean, the chair John usually occupied. My own chair was adjacent to Viola's—John's younger sister, whom according to his memories he loved dearly but also slightly feared due to her remarkable intelligence.
After sitting down, I remained silent and observed our family dining room in more detail. This room was exactly as I remembered from John's memory, so I saw no specific differences, yet it still felt foreign to me. Every corner reminded me that this was not my home, not my family.
The room was filled with a very tempting aroma of food, making me quite hungry, especially since I had been thinking about everything for so long since morning that my head truly needed new energy. But that hunger was mixed with an anxiety that made my stomach feel nauseous.
On the other side of the room hung a large oil painting of the Cathedral of the Church of Steam and Machinery, depicting the majestic building with towering spires and smoke emanating from its chimneys. The painting style was somewhat different from those in other rooms—darker and more dramatic, with light seemingly emanating from within the cathedral itself. All this proved that this family was very loyal to the Church of Steam and Machinery, reminding me of the Moretti family's great loyalty to the Evernight Goddess. It's somewhat funny because I could draw an indirect parallel with the main character of the novel, whom I realized was probably walking somewhere in this city at this very moment. Hey, John even owns a copy of the Steam Bible.
"Heh, of course John has a copy of the Church of Steam and Machinery's bible," I muttered inwardly with a cynical tone. Of course John had that church's bible in his room. He was raised as a devoted follower of the God of Steam and Machinery since childhood. It would be stranger if he didn't have it, given how devout this family is.
This room also featured a painting of Charles larger than life-size, with an expression more serious and authoritative than in our family photo. In that painting, he wore a black business suit with a high collar and held a long wooden cane with a silver hammer-shaped handle. Behind Charles was a seascape with many ships—a reminder of the family's shipping business—and beside him was a table piled with papers and blueprints, symbols of his industrial empire.
Honestly, the design style of this painting strongly reminded me of portraits of super-rich Victorian-era businessmen I had found online during research for my previous job. It made me truly realize that this world was technically in the Victorian era with a strong steampunk touch, something I had only read about in novels.
"Hah, Roselle..." I muttered inwardly while tapping the table with my fingers with a bitter expression. "You truly managed to exert your influence in this world, giving no chance for other transmigrators to use and show off their knowledge of modern concepts!" I said in my heart, feeling ironic that my economic knowledge, which should have been useful, had already been implemented by Roselle centuries ago.
Because I kept thinking about many absurd, strange, and unimportant things about my situation, I unconsciously pressed my temples with my fingers. Hmm... come to think of it, has pressing my temples become my new habit since coming to this other world? In just a few hours, I had developed a nervous tick I never had before.
Well, I've only been in this other world for a few hours... but honestly, in these few hours, I've already acquired a new habit and a bunch of problems enough for a lifetime. That's truly something strange and unpleasant.
After that, with great effort, my mind became calmer and my face returned to the neutral mode I hoped resembled John's usual expression. I just sat quietly and stared at the food that looked incredibly delicious, waiting for the other family members with mixed feelings of anticipation and fear.
As I sat silently, listening to the ticking of the large wall clock in the corner of the room, I heard the sound of footsteps with a not-too-fast rhythm heading towards this dining room. The steps were light yet certain, accompanied by the soft rustling of fabric.
"Ah, that must be Viola..." a familiar thought about my younger sister suddenly surfaced unconsciously from John's memory. I remembered that although John usually didn't wake up as early as Viola or their parents—due to his night owl habits—he was actually the fastest to get ready compared to them, which usually made John the first in the dining room. But this morning, due to the chaos in my mind, I was actually slower.
Suddenly, a girl of average height for a 16-year-old appeared at the door, with a slim and proportional figure that showed years of dance and etiquette training. Her dark green eyes—the same as John's—shone with sharp intelligence, her reddish-brown hair neatly tied up with a few strands deliberately falling at her temples, her pale, clean face with a delicate bone structure, and a perfectly displayed polite smile on her reddish lips.
She wore a dark yellow dress with many intricate patterns embroidered with golden thread, accompanied by a not-too-tight corset that still emphasized her slender waist. The wide sleeves of her dress almost covered her palms, made of the finest silk imported from Bansy Harbor, and the dress had satin ribbon decorations tied perfectly at the waist.
Viola seemed to notice me staring at her and immediately showed a slightly restrained polite smile, then gave a slight nod while holding her skirt with a trained movement.
"Good morning, Brother," she said to me in a soft yet clear voice, her polite smile and excellent demeanor showing the elite education she had received since childhood.
"Yes. Good morning to you too," I promptly replied to Viola with a forced slight smile, trying to cover my nervousness. The smile suddenly appeared on my face almost reflexively, probably due to the influence of John's memories, which naturally loved this younger sister.
Next to Viola, Elizabeth—her personal maid who had served since Viola was a child—was seen walking quickly towards Fritzh and the other servants as usual, probably to report that Viola was ready for breakfast. Of course, Elizabeth was Viola's loyal maid, just as Fritzh was mine.
Hmm, come to think of it, Elizabeth is like Viola's personal assistant and companion, just as Fritzh is my assistant and household supervisor. Honestly, thinking about assistants and servants reminded me of when I was on Earth and worked as a teaching assistant during my university days, although the tasks were clearly almost ninety percent different and much simpler compared to the responsibilities of servants in a house this lavish.
Viola promptly arrived and sat down next to me with graceful movements, then looked at the served food with a neutral expression on her beautiful face that seemed carved from marble.
"Brother, you look tired. Is something wrong?" Viola said that and looked at me with a slight frown visible on her smooth forehead, her green eyes carefully observing my face.
"Eh." I was somewhat startled that Viola could notice I had been thinking hard about many things all morning. Was my face showing my anxiety that clearly? Or was Viola really as perceptive as I remembered from John's memory?
"Yes, actually, there are some issues going on," I said, looking into Viola's green eyes watching me with an expression of slight weariness I allowed to show. "I feel quite nervous about the event later, especially since they said the prince will attend and might meet our family." I continued to Viola, lying slightly about what I was actually thinking—about transmigration, the novel world, and my fear of changing the plot.
But I wasn't completely lying; the original John was indeed somewhat stressed lately, thinking about what he needed to do during the upcoming event very important for the family business's future. Ugh, remembering that suddenly made me feel stressed too! Now I have to face that important event with limited knowledge of royal protocol and with the threat that one small mistake could alter the supposed plot.
"Relax, Brother. I'm sure the prince will only convey the royal family's gratitude to the company for our family's assistance in building the nation's latest warship model," Viola promptly replied with a calm expression and her soothing soft voice, clearly trying to reassure John—or more precisely, me impersonating John.
"However, of course, we must make the royal family more interested in us so this family can become stronger," Viola continued with a more serious expression, her eyes sparkling with ambition unusual for a girl her age. "This is a golden opportunity to expand our influence in Loen."
"Well... you're right, and don't worry, I will try my best and won't make this family look bad in the eyes of the royal family," I promptly said with a slight smile to Viola, and we both smiled because of that—me with a relieved smile because the conversation went smoothly, and Viola with a confident smile that made me feel guilty for deceiving her.
As we looked at each other with our fake smiles, suddenly the sound of several people's footsteps echoed simultaneously in the corridor, with a somewhat slow yet authoritative rhythm, and they headed directly to this room without hesitation.
At that moment, a man with a wrinkled yet still powerful face entered the room. Charles Lynch—John's father—with an expression so stern it seemed capable of cutting steel, the same green eyes as John and Viola, and perfectly groomed black hair with pomade. He appeared like a king entering his throne room, instantly filling the space with his dominant presence.
The man himself wore a typical black business suit of a successful Backlund businessman, somewhat similar to what I had seen in some English dramas about the Victorian era or even famous films about industrialists. The fabric was high quality, the stitching perfect, and he wore a gold watch chain hanging from his vest pocket.
Next to the man was a woman who looked to be in her thirties though her actual age was older—Eleanor Lynch—with blue eyes like the ocean and neatly tied-up reddish-brown hair with several pearl pins, wearing a calm expression and soft smile that masked the tension in her eyes.
The woman wore a dark green dress suit with intricate patterns embroidered with silver thread, also seemingly made of the most expensive silk, with a not-too-tight yet elegant corset in an emerald green color that suited her. She looked at us and smiled wider, yet the smile didn't fully reach her eyes, which still showed a bit of weariness.
"Good morning, Father," we said almost simultaneously, bowing our heads politely to the man as taught by Loen etiquette. "Good morning, Mother," we continued, also bowing our heads politely to the woman with perfect synchronization.
After saying it, they only nodded briefly—Charles with a firm nod, Eleanor with a soft nod—and immediately went to their respective seats without wasting time.
My heart beat loudly like a war drum as Charles's sharp gaze swept the room, as if checking if everything was in place. I quickly looked down, trying to hide the sudden anxiety making my palms sweat coldly. But no one seemed to notice, or they were too trained to show any reaction.
After he sat in his "throne" chair, Charles immediately looked at the food in front of him and without hesitation took his utensils—a large fork in his left hand, a knife in his right, with trained, efficient movements.
Then he promptly made the gesture of drawing the sacred triangle on his chest—a quick movement from forehead to left chest then to right chest, forming a triangle which was the symbol of the God of Steam and Machinery.
"By Steam!" Charles said in a low yet confident voice before he slowly began cutting the sailfish on his plate with precision.
After Charles took the first bite—a ritual signifying that the formal breakfast had begun—we also immediately made the gesture of drawing the sacred triangle on our own chests with movements memorized since childhood.
"By Steam!" we all said softly almost in unison, and we began eating the food that had been served earlier, with the delicate clinking of silverware breaking the silence.
I ate Deep-fried Sailfish for the first time in my current life. As the first bite entered my mouth, I felt an explosion of complex flavors—a Western-style dish with many spices and some Asian tastes mixed very well, creating a truly new culinary experience for me. The fish's texture, crispy outside yet tender inside, combined with a slightly sweet and spicy sauce, made me almost forget my complicated situation for a moment.
As I took a second bite, I unconsciously glanced around the entire room and at the family eating with me. Suddenly, I felt a strong warmth in my heart and my eyes grew teary, an emotional reaction I hadn't expected.
Unconsciously, I thought of my original family on Earth while eating equally delicious food—my mother who always prepared special breakfasts on weekends, my father who would tell stories about his plans for the day, and my younger siblings fighting over favorite dishes. I remembered what it felt like to eat together with my previous family and enjoy dishes cooked by my mother with love. I remembered how my father always told stories about his past life during meals and said how proud he was to have a child like me who succeeded in becoming a civil servant.
I also unconsciously thought that it wasn't just my original family that was lost to me, but also how the original John would never experience moments like this again because he was gone and replaced by me. This made me realize that I was sitting here, enjoying unimaginable luxury, while John's original family would never know an intruder had taken their son's place. And my family... my original family on Earth... might be searching frantically for my missing corpse, or even worse, they had already forgotten me as if I never existed due to the effects of this transmigration.
"Are you alright, Dear?" Eleanor suddenly said that and stared at me for a long time, her blue eyes full of attention noticing my face which probably showed the emotions I was trying to hide. "Your eyes look red," she continued in a soft voice full of concern.
"I..." I wanted to speak, but it was somewhat difficult because my voice became slightly hoarse and choked by the sudden flood of emotions. But then I managed to control myself and become calmer, taking a deep breath as my stress therapist had taught me before. "I'm fine. This food truly reminds me of certain memories because it tastes so good," I promptly answered Eleanor with a voice I controlled to remain stable, trying to cover the deep sadness I had just felt.
"Isn't it because you're overthinking?" Eleanor didn't give up, her eyes still watching me attentively. "Are you feeling tense about the event later? Don't worry, Dear, you can definitely handle it calmly. You've been trained for this since childhood," Eleanor immediately said to me, trying to reassure me with words she probably often said to John when he was nervous.
"What Mother says is absolutely right, you can get through it just fine," Viola suddenly joined the conversation and smiled at me with a confidence that made me feel even more guilty. "Brother is always the best at events like these."
"Of course. Thank you, Viola," I said, looking at Viola and trying to smile back. "Thank you, Mother," I continued to Eleanor, hoping they would stop questioning me before I truly lost control.
"Of course, my dear." Eleanor finally averted her gaze, though she still looked worried. "Stay calm and believe in yourself. You are the son of the Lynch family," she said, her blue eyes looking at me with a softened expression full of affection that should have been directed at the original John, not me.
"You must do your best during the event." Charles suddenly joined the conversation with a voice that made me tense up again immediately. He looked at me with his characteristic stern expression. "Make the royal family and those foolish nobles realize they must understand we are stronger than them. We may not have blue blood, but we have something more valuable: economic influence."
"After all, compared to the foolish nobles who have barely contributed to the nation besides their family names, this family has supported this nation many times both in war and peace." Charles said that with a somewhat dismissive expression yet still looking at me with his sharp green eyes, as if awaiting a response from me.
I just remained silent and didn't comment on Charles's statement because I was truly confused about what to say. Although I somewhat disagreed with Charles's statement—because, as I remembered from the novel, there were nobles like Audrey Hall who had helped ordinary people greatly, and compared to some ancient nobles who possessed complete Beyonder formulas, all this family's money and influence were essentially something completely worthless.
We finally finished eating in a somewhat awkward silence after that, and Charles was given the morning newspaper by one of the servants who appeared right on time. He began reading it seriously, his face wrinkling as his eyes swept over news about tensions with Intis in the colonies.
Then he suddenly put down his newspaper and spoke while looking directly at me, making me immediately alert. "I think it's time I started seriously considering your future partner." Charles said with an uncompromisingly serious face. "I will try to find a Viscount short on funds but still with influence in the country, and then arrange a marriage between you and their daughter. That will open doors that have been closed to us until now."
Hearing that, I was so startled I almost choked on the mineral water I was drinking. But I immediately remembered from the original John's memory that conversations about this topic had apparently been mentioned by his father in passing a week ago, although John didn't take it seriously at the time and thought it was just an empty threat. But I don't want to change the plot by marrying someone I don't even know! What if the person I marry turns out to be an important noble who is supposed to play a role in the plot? No! I absolutely reject this idea!
"But Father..." I tried to find the right words, "I think it's better if I develop the factories in the southern regions first rather than get engaged to someone immediately. That would provide more tangible benefits for the family in the long run." I immediately said while looking at Charles with a forced serious expression, trying to sound like a responsible John.
"You don't need to do that yourself. Besides, you could develop the factories more easily if you were officially engaged to a noble." Said Charles with a wrinkled expression, disliking my rebuttal. "They would give you access to inner circles that have been difficult for us to penetrate."
"All this time, our family has only had one shortcoming: a lack of blue blood in this family." Charles continued in a low yet confident voice. "With you engaged to a noble's daughter, it would silence those foolish nobles who always look down on us as nouveaux riches with only money." He finished with a slight, dismissive smile that showed how much he looked down on traditional nobles.
"I agree with Father's point about that, but if we only need a noble title why don't we just buy one?" I tried a different approach, "And the marriage could be postponed because, compared to now, there are more urgent matters we need to think about, like the relationship between Loen and Intis becoming more tense, or between Loen and Feysac, which is making our trade flows much more difficult than before." I immediately made up a fabricated excuse to reject this request, trying to use his economic knowledge to convince him.
"This is as urgent as those matters." Charles didn't budge, his face remaining stern. "Besides, compared to deteriorating relations, they won't become critical unless the country truly goes to war. But as long as war hasn't broken out, there will be no significant difficulty for our business, and it's actually far more difficult to develop business because those foolish nobles sometimes deliberately hinder us with their regulations." Charles said indifferently, as if all diplomatic issues were insignificant compared to his personal ambition.
"It's still an unknown variable whether the nobles' perspective would truly change if I were engaged to a Viscount's daughter," I quickly retorted Charles's statement, trying to find a flaw in his logic.
We continued our increasingly intense debate, as I absolutely rejected the idea of an arranged marriage for myself. Not only because it was archaic and unpleasant, but because it could affect the plot in unpredictable ways and might ultimately cause the death of Klein or other important characters. And if Klein dies, I'm sure the Lord of the Mysteries story would collapse, given the entire novel is built around Klein as the main character and guardian of the world's balance.
"Besides," I tried a more emotional approach, "wouldn't doing that be like begging those nobles? Admitting that we are inferior to them?" I said while looking into Charles's green eyes with my own firm expression, hoping to touch his pride.
"Hah." Charles let out a short, cynical sound. "Let the foolish nobles think we are begging until they realize we will control them later through that marriage." Charles rejected my thought again with full confidence in his strategy.
Viola, who had been quietly observing our debate with sparkling eyes, suddenly interrupted in a soft yet confident voice. "Father," she said politely yet firmly, "doesn't the teaching of Steam and Machinery state that one should prioritize innovation and contribution for the common good over personal interests and family ambition?" Viola said that gently yet with sharp logic.
"True," Charles replied indifferently, glancing at Viola with slight surprise in his eyes, as if not expecting my younger sister to intervene.
"Then," Viola continued with a small, clever smile, "wouldn't it be better to postpone Brother's engagement because he hasn't given Father any real innovation or tangible contribution that truly benefits society?" She looked at me with a relaxed expression, yet her eyes sparkled with cleverness.
Hah, hah. So you mean I'm useless and haven't made any contributions! If I wanted, I could have started my own company and run away from this house long ago; I'm just not interested in doing so! I thought, feeling slightly offended, even though I knew it was just Viola's strategy to help me.
I felt a little offended by Viola's statement about me, but I just looked back at her with a slight smile, realizing this was a sacrifice I had to make to avoid an arranged marriage.
Charles looked confused and frowned again, considering Viola's words. But unconsciously he rubbed his chin with his muscular fingers as if seriously pondering all this. Then his expression returned to his usual stern mode, but this time with a bit of consideration.
"Yes," he finally uttered the word reluctantly, "you're right. Perhaps the engagement can be postponed for a few years until John truly demonstrates his value to the family and society." He said indifferently, but it made me incredibly happy and relieved! The crisis was temporarily averted.
"Thank you, Viola! You are my savior today!" I muttered inwardly, feeling grateful to this clever younger sister. How wonderful to have a kind and intelligent younger sister like her!
Then, at that moment, as Charles returned to his newspaper and Eleanor began talking with a servant about the dinner menu, Viola leaned her body closer and whispered something in my ear in a low voice only I could hear.
"You owe me now, dearest Brother," she said in a playful yet meaningful tone, and then looked at me with her slight, triumphant smile.
I just looked at her expressionlessly because I was indeed still very grateful to her... but I hope all these debts of gratitude will be easy to repay and not involve things that are too difficult, although it's certain that Viola couldn't possibly endanger me.