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The person she was waiting for appeared soon.
One of the craftsmen from the Garen Workshop—the young man called Lev—came out of the workshop, glancing around as if to make sure his colleagues wouldn’t see him. Then, when he noticed the luxurious ducal carriage still parked right in front of him, his eyes widened.

“Got business with the young lady?”

Mina, still standing outside the carriage, spoke curtly.

“Yes! Um, yes, I do.”

Lev flinched, but then seemed to steel himself and looked straight at Mina.

“About that order earlier… I wanted to hear the details.”
“And you think you can make what my lady wants?”

Mina asked bluntly.
Lev replied with a terribly earnest expression.

“I can’t say for sure without hearing more, but… I think I can. Or rather—I want to try making it with my own hands.”

Seeing that expression from inside the carriage, Ekaterina couldn’t help but smile.
Now that’s the spirit of a craftsman!
When a challenge appears, they can’t resist sinking their teeth into it; when told to make something difficult, they forget to eat or sleep, thinking endlessly about how to pull it off. Even system engineers were craftsmen in their own way—she knew that feeling well.
Wait—doesn’t that mean this guy’s setting himself up for overwork death⁉︎

“Do you have time now?”
“Sorry, no, not right now. I only slipped out of work for a bit. But I can take my lunch break soon.”

Mina glanced upward at Ekaterina, who nodded.

“My lady says she’ll speak with you.”

Lev bowed deeply.

“Thank you very much. I’m Lev Narew.”

.

Since talking here wasn’t ideal—as he quite reasonably pointed out—Ekaterina and Mina took the carriage to the address Lev specified for them to wait.
The place they arrived at seemed to be another workshop, but the door was shut with a padlock. On the weathered little sign, the name “Murano Workshop” was written.
That made sense. Lev must have originally worked here and moved to the Garen Workshop after the master’s death.

“So that Lev person learned here too, huh? That must be why he knows how to use his words.”
“Yes, I’m sure they had many orders from nobles and great merchants. He must be used to dealing with such clients.”

While they were talking, Lev soon came running up.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I borrowed the key—please, come inside.”

When they entered, they found several furnaces like the Garen Workshop, since it was the same kind of glassworks, but the Murano Workshop’s layout felt more efficient—almost exuding a sense of functional beauty.
The master had died, what, two years ago? Yet it wasn’t dusty, and the air wasn’t stagnant. Perhaps Lev had been cleaning it periodically. The orderly atmosphere suggested the workshop had been kept neat and organized even before it closed.
In any manufacturing workplace, tidiness is essential. The Toyota Kanban system, if she recalled correctly, started with clearly identifying where everything was.
The late Master Murano must indeed have been a fine craftsman.

Lev pulled the white cloth off a set of sofas in the corner. They were of better quality than the ones in the Garen Workshop. He offered seats to Ekaterina and Mina, then sat across from them.
He stared intently at the drawing of the glass pen Ekaterina handed him.

“So the tip has grooves cut into it. Spiraling grooves, several of them.”
“Yes. That should allow it to draw up far more ink than a quill pen.”
“May I alter the design of the grip portion?”
“As long as it’s beautiful to the eye and functions as an anti-slip, I’ll leave it to you. What do you think?”

Lev looked up from the drawing.

“It’s quite slender, so the issue will be strength. Especially the tip. If it’s made with ordinary glass, a light knock could chip it.”

As expected of a professional—fragile tips were indeed a weakness of glass pens.
The one she’d bought in her previous life at a friend’s urging had been made of hard glass, so that had been less of a problem.

“Then, do you think it’s too difficult?”
“Normally, yes. —But, please take a look at this.”

Lev stood, pulled a white cloth off a nearby shelf, and took out a glass. It was beautifully colored and elaborately decorated, similar to the one she had used at the restaurant yesterday, though shorter—closer to a brandy glass.
The color was red. If she remembered correctly, red glass was more expensive than other colors because gold had to be melted into it for the tint.
Returning with it in hand, Lev let go of the glass over the table of the sofa set—letting it drop lightly.

“!”

Ekaterina gasped involuntarily. The table gave a *thud*, and the glass bounced lightly off it, rolling away.
Lev smiled.

“It’s all right. It won’t break.”

He picked up the glass and handed it to her. Ekaterina accepted it and examined it carefully. There wasn’t a single scratch on it.

“Murano Workshop glassware is known not only for its beauty but also for its strength—it doesn’t break easily even when dropped. It’s the strength born from a special processing method invented by Master Murano himself. A thinner object, like a pen, might be a bit more fragile, but still far stronger than ordinary glass.”
“And you know that processing method?”
“Yes. I inherited it from the master. I made this glass myself.”

Hearing that, Ekaterina once again gazed intently at the glass.
She didn’t know much about how to judge glasswork, but there wasn’t the slightest distortion in its shape; the thickness was perfectly even; the red hue was vivid, without any unevenness.
If he was entrusted with making a glass from such expensive materials, Lev must have been highly regarded by the master.

“I don’t know much about glass, but it’s beautiful. I think your craftsmanship is wonderful.”
“Thank you. The master’s works were far beyond mine, but he acknowledged that my pieces could be sold under the Murano Workshop name.”

So, even though they were called the works of Master Murano, they were actually made by the entire workshop. That’s probably how it usually goes. Come to think of it, I remember hearing that some paintings once attributed to the painter Rembrandt were later reappraised as works from the Rembrandt workshop—mostly done by his pupils.
Apparently, many museums were disappointed when those paintings turned out to be by his students, but still, I think it’s impressive that Rembrandt had trained so many students capable of painting on his level.
As she was thinking about that, Lev spoke, looking grim.

“But there’s a problem.”
“Oh my, what kind of problem?”
“This strength can only be achieved here, in this Murano Workshop. Unless we light the furnace filled with the master’s ingenuity, it cannot be reproduced.”

Eh?

“This workshop is now up for sale. The master had debts. He was a brilliant craftsman, but not good at business. He was even swindled a few times. So when he passed away, the workshop was immediately taken from him.”

With a desperate expression, Lev looked straight at Ekaterina.

“But I want to work here. I want to create things that can only be made here, right here. So please, my lady—I beg of you. Please buy this workshop!”

What!?
Lev bowed deeply.

“I’ll make anything you want—a glass pen, any kind of glass piece, anything. And I promise you won’t regret it. The name of Murano Workshop hasn’t been forgotten yet. With the skills the master taught me, I can make things that will sell for a fair price. …I’ve never done business before, but I’ll do my best. You can pay me the lowest wage you like. So please, save this workshop.”
“S-save it, you say?”
“If the prospective buyer doesn’t plan to run a glass workplace, they’ll destroy the master’s furnace. That would be unbearable. That furnace has value—there’s only one like it in the world, and it can create so many beautiful things that nothing else can. That’s how valuable it is. —I know I’m asking for the impossible. But there aren’t many who could buy this place. This may be the only chance. Please, my lady—I beg you, buy this workshop.”
“……”

Uhh… I only came here to order a present.
Now he’s asking me to buy an entire workshop?
This isn’t a gift anymore—it’s turning into some kind of “Project Something” reality show from my previous life!! ¹