After the dinner, Ernest retreated to his bedroom. He walked towards the table where he left his notebook as there’s another thing he’d want to introduce in this estate. And that was the central heating.

Currently, in this season, the temperature is mild but when extreme seasons such as summer and winter come, it’ll be difficult. Sure he had adjusted during the time they lived in their old home.

If he was already paying for a large estate, then he might as well make it comfortable.

So a central heating is necessary.

He sat on his chair and opened the notebook.

He flipped to a fresh page and took his quill.

Then paused.

Actually...

This needed improvement too.

Quills.

Ernest looked down at the feather resting between his fingers.

For centuries, quills had served humanity well.

They were cheap.

Easy to produce.

Easy to replace.

The problem?

They were annoying.

The tip wore down constantly.

The ink flow changed depending on how the feather was cut.

Every few minutes he had to dip it back into the ink bottle.

And if he applied too much pressure?

The tip split.

Honestly, after spending years taking engineering notes with mechanical pencils and pens, using a quill sometimes felt like voluntarily handicapping himself.

He scribbled another note on the side of the page.

Improved writing instruments.

Potential future project.

Then he chuckled.

His notebook was becoming dangerous.

Every page contained another business opportunity.

Soap.

Steam engines.

Electricity.

Generators.

Water systems.

Waste management.

Writing instruments.

Eventually, Ernest returned to the original topic.

Heating.

He wrote a title.

Estate Heating System.

The principle itself was surprisingly simple.

Actually, most people imagined central heating as complicated.

It wasn’t.

The complexity came from manufacturing the components.

The idea itself was straightforward.

Heat water.

Move the hot water through pipes.

Allow the water to release heat into rooms.

Return the cooler water back to the boiler.

Heat it again, and repeat.

It’s a closed cycle heating system. Ernest quickly sketched a rough diagram.

Boiler.

Main pipe.

Branches.

Radiators.

Return line.

Back to boiler.

The biggest challenge wasn’t the concept.

It was circulation.

Modern systems used electric pumps.

He didn’t have electric pumps.

Fortunately, early heating systems existed long before electric motors.

Gravity could do the work.

Hot water naturally rose.

Cold water naturally sank.

If the boiler sat lower than the rest of the system, circulation could happen automatically.

Slowly.

But effectively.

Actually, many nineteenth-century estates operated exactly that way.

The boiler heated water.

The hot water climbed through pipes.

The water cooled while traveling through radiators.

Then gravity pulled it back downward. No electricity required.

Ernest began writing dimensions.

Boiler room.

Probably in the basement.

Or perhaps a dedicated utility building behind the estate.

Safer.

A boiler explosion inside the main residence would be unfortunate. And that was putting it mildly.

A poorly designed boiler could turn into a bomb.

The pressure stored inside steam systems was terrifying.

Even experienced engineers respected boilers.

Then another thought entered his mind.

Fuel.

Coal.

The estate could easily afford it.

Especially now.

But coal delivery schedules would need to be arranged.

Storage too.

Moisture ruined coal quality.

Which meant covered storage areas.

Another note appeared on the page.

Coal shed near boiler house.

Then he leaned back.

Actually, once a boiler existed...

Other possibilities opened.

Hot water.

Indoor baths.

Heated washing facilities.

Maybe even primitive greenhouses.

The same heat source could serve multiple purposes.

That was the beauty of engineering.

One system often solved several problems at once.

His eyes drifted toward the window.

Outside, darkness had fully settled over the estate.

Lanterns illuminated portions of the garden paths.

The fountains still flowed quietly beneath the moonlight.

Then Ernest looked back at the notebook.

Steam engine.

Electricity.

Central heating.

Improved pens.

The list just kept growing.

And somehow, every project connected to another.

Steam engines led to factories.

Factories led to machine tools.

Machine tools led to better manufacturing.

Better manufacturing led to better generators.

Generators led to electricity.

Electricity led to motors.

Motors led to entirely new industries.

It was like looking at a giant web.

Pull one thread and a hundred others moved.

Eventually, Ernest closed the notebook.

Not because he ran out of ideas.

Quite the opposite. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Because it was getting late.

And tomorrow he still needed to return to the Helmarte Soap Works. The factory would not manage itself. He rose to his feet and walked over to his four-poster king-sized bed.

The thing was enormous.

Back in his old home, his entire bedroom could probably fit inside this room twice.

Maybe three times.

The mattress alone felt softer than anything he had slept on since arriving in this world.

He sat down on the edge of it.

The mattress compressed beneath his weight.

Then he slowly leaned backward.

Honestly?

It felt amazing.

No straw mattress.

No creaking wooden frame.

No thin blanket during winter.

For a few moments, Ernest simply stared at the ceiling.

The room was quiet.

Actually, too quiet.

Back in the lower district, there was always noise.

Dogs barking.

Arguments between neighbors.

Horse carts rattling over uneven roads.

The occasional drunk shouting in the middle of the night.

Someone hammering something at a ridiculous hour.

Here? Nothing. It’s just silence.

The thick stone walls and distance between neighboring estates absorbed almost every sound.

It was peaceful. Now, he’ll savor the stillness of the moment. Tomorrow will be another normal day for him.

Ernest pulled the blanket over himself and adjusted his position slightly. The mattress sank gently beneath him as he closed his eyes.

The soft sound of water from the distant fountain drifted through the partially opened window.

Somewhere outside, a night bird called briefly before silence returned.

And little by little, the thoughts inside his head began to slow.

Steam engines.

Electricity.

Factories.

Expansion.

They could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he needed to sleep. With that final thought, sleep finally claimed him, and the estate settled into quiet darkness beneath the night sky.