"In that case, we'll need a constable's assistance," Richard stated. "I'm confident in the guard's abilities, of course, but if this family really is dysfunctional, it's better to play it safe. I'd rather not end up in the hospital a second time."
"Very well, sir. I'll pass your wishes along to the charity foundation's representative. I believe police accompaniment would indeed not be amiss."
When Richard and John stepped out of the house, a journalist was already waiting for them on the doorstep, and a Bentley Eight was parked by the curb.
The young woman, with light chestnut hair cut to shoulder length, was not particularly striking in appearance—an ordinary young British woman with dimples in her cheeks, brown eyes, a sharp chin, and slightly stooped shoulders. Her figure was nothing to boast about either: her bust was small, and because of her posture and the closed green dress, complemented by a long black coat, it was difficult to make out much at all. She looked to be around twenty-five years old, give or take a couple of years. Of average height.
"Fiona Bruce, BBC, Southeast Text News," she introduced herself. "And you must be John and Lord Grosvenor?"
"Good afternoon, miss," John replied primly, bending into a bow. "You are quite correct."
"Good morning, Miss Bruce," Richard said politely. "A pleasure to meet you. Please," he gestured toward the rear door of the car.
"Oh, what a luxurious car!" the journalist exclaimed. "It's my first time riding in one like this. I hope I don't get used to it," she added jokingly.
"It's nothing special," Richard shrugged. "Four wheels, a steel body, and a fuming engine that runs on hydrocarbon fuel. If it weren't for the family name and its status, I'd be driving something more environmentally friendly and economical—something that doesn't guzzle three buckets of gasoline per hundred miles."
The journalist laughed.
"That's an amusing point of view, Lord Grosvenor," she said. "And if you think about it, it really does seem that status pushes wealthy people toward expensive cars."
Richie waited for the journalist to take her seat inside the car, then climbed in after her. John settled into the front passenger seat.
"Exactly," the boy replied. "Unfortunately, that's how it's always been and always will be. In the past, wealthy people demonstrated their status by buying expensive horses and commissioning custom carriages. Today, it's cars, yachts, and airplanes. And in the future, affluent people will purchase costly antigravity cars and flyers finished with exclusive natural materials that can only be obtained for enormous sums of money."
The car pulled away. The journalist took out a voice recorder, switched it on, and asked,
"Richard… may I call you that?"
"No problem, miss. It'll actually be more convenient."
"I've heard that you're involved in business. Is that true?"
"Quite true. I started doing business last June, after finishing primary school."
"But aren't you only nine?" Fiona asked in astonishment.
"Nine, Miss Bruce. Some people consider me a prodigy, but in reality I just have a good memory. At the moment, I've already passed the exams for the second year of secondary school as an external student."
"Amazing!" The journalist's eyes widened in surprise. "I had no idea that you weren't just the heir to the Duke of Westminster's title and the Grosvenor Group, but also a prodigy. So what exactly do you do, Richard?"
"Miss Bruce, you can just call me Richie."
"Alright, Richie—but then you call me Fiona!"
"No problem. Fiona, what exactly are you interested in? My work or my everyday life?"
"Both."
"Well then…" Richie paused for a couple of seconds to collect his thoughts. "My daily schedule is very demanding. The morning starts with gymnastics. Then I have lessons with tutors following the school curriculum. After lunch, fencing practice. After that, independent study of academic materials. At the same time, I keep up with economic reports and business matters."
"And what can you tell me about your business, Richie?"
"After passing my primary school exams, I had some free time. That's when it was decided I should go into business. My father lent me a modest amount of startup capital. Around the same time, the idea to create something new was born. That's how I brought Skrepyshi to life."
"Skrepyshi?!"
Miss Bruce exclaimed so loudly in surprise that both the driver and John flinched. Her face stretched in astonishment.
"Is that really such unexpected news?" Richard raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"No one knew about this," Miss Bruce replied. "I actually collect Skrepyshes myself. They're really fun."
"Then, Fiona, you should visit Japan," Richard said with a smirk. "Two competing retail chains there commissioned different Skrepyshes collections from me, based on their own designs. They're radically different from the European and American ones."
(End of Chapter)
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