A Good Innovation makes Better Solutions

Innovation.

A process of generating new ideas, methods, and solutions that drive meaningful change.

That's precisely what I aimed to accomplish—the enhancement of an outdated device crucial for research on the Solitary Particle Theory. The ongoing failures in those experiments were caused by unreliable tools, and improving this device could provide the solution.

Determined to uncover its flaws, I picked up a nearby screwdriver from the table and decided to spend the next few hours dismantling the instrument my father had entrusted to me.

Just as I was about to begin the process, a firm hand caught my wrist.

"Herta, what exactly are you planning to do with that?"

Looking up, I noticed my father whose expression was shadowed with concern. In response, I cleared my throat and answered matter-of-factly.

"I'm taking it apart."

Hearing my statement, he knitted his eyebrows.

"You can't just disassemble something that delicate. What if it breaks?"

"It won't," I reassured him. "I just need to inspect the interior, and everything will be put back together once that's done."

Father narrowed his eyes, looking unconvinced. 

"That thing's older than you, Herta," he proclaimed firmly. "It's not something you could tinker with on a whim."

"It's not a whim," I countered. "If I understand how it works, I can improve it."

Raising an eyebrow, he pressed onward. "And you're sure you'll be careful?"

"Absolutely," I assured him, pulling a thumbs up. 

For a moment, he seemed ready to argue, but then he breathed through his nose and took a few steps back, crossing his arms.

"Alright then. But if you can't fix it afterward, you cannot help with the research anymore."

"Deal."

With that resolved, I began to dismantle the device. Each component was carefully removed, piece by piece, until the delicate framework lay bare before me. Intricate runes were carved on the interior—some familiar, others more complex than I'd seen before.

The lenses, housed in brass fittings, showed signs of wear, their veneers fairly dulled. Traces of magic lingered within the runes, but their arrangement seemed inefficient, likely the cause of inconsistent results in previous experiments.

Utilizing my Unique Skill: High Intelligence, I mentally mapped out the entire structure, tracing the mana flow and identifying weak points. The runes required improvement—some required repositioning to align with the light path, while the glass itself demanded a sharper curvature to enhance magnification.

Hmm, this will do.

Confident in my assessment, I grabbed a parchment and quill.

Then I carefully sketched each component, tracing them with precision. After that, I moved on to adjustments. I opted for a microscope design with the runes placed in a helix pattern, the contours of the lenses being curvier, and the frames being sturdier to stabilize the parts.

At the bottom of the blueprint, I scribbled the device's name.

Moments later, my father returned to the study, holding a lamp.

"Herta, it's time for you to go to bed."

Looking out the window, I realized that it was already midnight.

"Ah, I overdid it."

Father glanced at the blueprint spread across the desk. His gaze lingered on the bold letters at the bottom.

"Hertascope?" he asked with a raised brow. "Why did you name this device after yourself?"

"Because it's my invention." I grinned cheekily.

He snorted softly, shaking his head. "Well, you'd better make sure it operates properly before you start claiming it as your own."

"Don't worry, Papa," I replied, smiling confidently. "It'll be perfect."

"Okay, I understand," he laughed, playfully tousling my hair. "Just make sure to put everything back together before we head out of the study."

"Sounds easy enough," I retorted, grabbing all the pieces.

With that said, I began reassembling the device. The brass fittings felt rigid and firm, its worn surfaces dull beneath my fingers. Each lens clicked into place, faint traces of magic flickering along the runes as they settled. I tightened the final screw, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Setting the instrument aside, I flexed my sore fingers, ached from the precise work.

Father stood by the door, lamp in hand, its glow casting shadows across the walls. He led me down the hall, where portraits and tapestries seemed to blur in my tired gaze.

In my room, I climbed into bed. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, and the cool sheets clung to my skin. Warmth spread through my tired limbs as I pulled the blanket over myself.

"Goodnight, Herta," Father murmured warmly.

I barely managed a smile before slumber took me.

----------------------------------------

The following morning, I stumbled out of my room, still half-asleep, only to witness my father standing at the front entrance. He wore a trench coat and a neatly set bowler hat, adjusting it slightly as he secured a leather bag against his side.

"Papa, where are you going?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

He looked back, tilting his hat to meet my gaze. "I'm heading out to visit my colleagues."

"Your colleagues? What for?" I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to show them the blueprint you made last night," he explained, showing the rolled-up parchment tucked in his bag. "If everything goes well, they'll help construct the device."

Hearing this, my sleepiness vanished. This was it—my work was about to be acknowledged.

"Really? Will you tell them the brilliance of my design?" I asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Perhaps," he chuckled lightly, "but don't get ahead of yourself. It'll take some time."

"Still, it wouldn't hurt to mention it," I insisted, puffing out my chest.

Father smiled wearily, finally giving in. "Fine, just promise me you'll take it easy today. And do not stay up late this time, alright?"

"Alright then," I agreed, though I doubted I'd keep that promise.

Before he could step out, Marlene appeared from the hallway, holding his gloves.

"Master Albrecht, you forgot these," she called out, offering them to him.

"Ah, thank you," he replied, slipping them on. "Keep an eye on Herta for me, would you?"

Marlene bowed calmly. "Yes, Milord."

I momentarily remained at the front door, watching him disappear in the distance. The manor suddenly felt quieter—a rare instance of stillness.

"Lady Herta, would you like to have breakfast?" Marlene suggested, breaking the silence.

Breathing deeply, I turned back. "Of course."

As we went toward the dining room, a savory aroma filled the hallway. Naturally, I was drawn in by the scent, following it in a daze until I reached the dinner table.

Once there, I reached for the chair, only to realize I'd needed to climb up, which is easier said than done. Stepping closer, I grabbed the seat with both hands and tried to haul myself up.

"Milady, it's dangerous to do that alone!" Marlene warned, hurrying to my side with her hands supporting my rear.

"No, I got this," I insisted, waving dismissively. "Just watch."

With a determined grunt, I pushed my way up. Though I nearly toppled backward, I somehow managed to plant both feet firmly on the seat.

"See? That's how it's done!" I declared, huffing proudly.

Marlene, however, looked less impressed and more relieved. "Lady Herta, please ask for help next time. You almost fell off the chair."

"But where's the fun in that?" I grinned, reaching for my utensils.

A warm bowl of pottage soup with a side of meat pie was in front of me. Taking the spoon in my hand, I stirred the food gently, letting the steam rise before taking a careful sip.

While eating, a thought suddenly came to mind.

"You know what, Marlene," I called out between swallows. "How about if I use a step stool to make climbing chairs easier."

"That sounds like a great idea, Milady," she agreed. "I shall prepare one next time."

Once that was settled, I continued eating until I was full. Afterward, I decided to return to the study, intending to resume the research independently. Despite my father's recommendation to take things easy, I couldn't ignore the lingering questions running through my head.

On my way back, I passed by a window and saw my mother in the garden. Crouching beside her flower beds, she seemed to be doing something secretive.

Curious, I decided to head outside and see what she was doing.

---------------------------------------------------

Upon arrival, I sneakily approached my mother, careful to remain unseen. Ducking behind the tall flower bed, I found a perfect spot to observe her without being noticed.

From what I could observe, she appeared to be whispering something to the bed of Clematis flowers. Her fingers lightly outlined the petals, and though I couldn't make out her words, her gentle expression hinted at something thoughtful.

What is she saying? Who is she talking to?

Curiosity gnawed at me, so I leaned forward slightly, hoping to hear better. Unfortunately, my hand slipped on a loose stone, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground.

Thud!

The sound of leaves rustling startled my mother, prompting her to turn her head.

"Who goes there?"

Knowing I'd been caught, I stepped out from my hiding spot, brushing the dirt off my dress.

"Uh... hi, Mama," I greeted, feigning innocence. 

"Ah, it's just you, sweetie." Her eyes slacked when she realized it was me, but her expression suddenly turned serious. "Oh my, your knee... it's bleeding."

Hearing her concern, I looked down, only to discover a large streak of blood flowing down my knee. Looking at my mother, I saw her visibly disturbed by the situation.

"Come here, Herta," she urged, patting the ground beside her. "Let me have a look."

Following her instructions, I wandered toward her. She then grabbed my leg with both hands and studied it intently.

"Your wound looks quite painful," she remarked worriedly. "Does it hurt, sweetie?"

I paused for a moment, feeling only the faint warmth of my mother's gentle hands against my leg. Looking back, I noticed there had been neither a sharp sting nor a dull pain when I fell to the ground—just the sensation of dirt rubbing against my skin.

"It doesn't truly hurt, Mama," I admitted.

Her brows furrowed hearing my response. "Are you sure, sweetie? Not even a little bit?"

"Yup," I nodded. "This is but a scratch, Mama."

Still skeptical, she placed a hand on my knee while extending another over a bed of clematis flowers. Then, in a soft tone, she began to whisper.

"Oh, spirits of the garden, heal my daughter's wound with thy magic."

The star-shaped petals shimmered softly in response to her chant, releasing specks of dust that drifted upward and landed gently on my knee.

Moments later, my mother pulled her hand back, and I checked my knee. Touching my skin, I didn't feel any cuts or bruises.

"Better?" she asked softly.

I nodded, still intrigued by what she had done. "Yeah, but I was a bit curious... What were you whispering to the flowers earlier? Who were those spirits you just mentioned?"

Mother smiled faintly, her fingers idly brushing the flowers beside her. 

"These peaceful little beings are called elementals," she explained calmly. "They reside within this garden where they nurture my flowers and listen when I summon them."

Elementals, huh? Could they have a connection with the research my father was working on?

With this question in mind, I looked at my mother.

"Mama, do you think the elementals have anything to do with magicules?" I asked curiously.

Her hand paused, shifting her gaze at me. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

"Papa told me there are particles smaller than Magicules," I explained carefully. "They might be what the elementals are also made of."

As I explained, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

"That's... an interesting thought," she mumbled. Though I've never heard of elementals being linked to magicules directly, there are old stories that describe them as entities created from the same origin."

Her words stirred something in my mind—a sudden realization, like finding the missing piece of a puzzle. If elementals were made of those elusive particles, perhaps they were the key to understanding their behavior.

"Thanks, Mama! I need to go!" 

"Eh? Leaving so soon?"

"I just need to go to the study! See you later!"

"Ah, see you later, sweetie."

With that conversation settled, I hurried back toward the manor, thoughts racing. Because of my mother's revelation, I have some leads to the Solitary Particle Theory.

On my way there, I bumped into Marlene, who seemed to be looking for me.

"Lady Herta, please come to the study."

"Why?"

"Your father is looking for you."

Hearing her words, I headed to the study and found my father talking to a stranger. Dressed in a sharp suit and top hat, the man turned his attention to me as I entered.

"Oh? And who is this lovely young lady?" he asked curiously.

Father chuckled lightly. "That would be my daughter, Herta Wissenschaft."

"Ah, so you're the one behind the device's design," the man remarked, removing his hat and placing it over his chest. "My name is Bellum Aristroticus, chief architect of Nasca Kingdom."