Despite queuing in order where the front is occupied by Mlle. Howell with M. Gill, followed by M. Marsh with Mlle. Voyles, and we are right behind them, the gondola we are on is separated by some distance.
It's as if linked at 90 and 180-degree angles. To simplify, Feline and I are at the 9 o'clock position, Mlle. Voyles with M. Marsh at 6 o'clock, while Mlle. Howell and M. Gill are at 3 o'clock. Meanwhile, there are about 12 gondolas. Surely, with the number of people queuing, I estimate that about half of them are empty.
By the way, this is my first time on a Ferris wheel. Likewise for this slow loris, which tirelessly scoops and enjoys the mango milk slushies. M. Marsh's words about the romantic philosophy of the Ferris wheel begin to linger in my mind. Similar to what was referred to by Mrs. Davies's words or her late daughter, Georgia, whose meaning I know well.
I admit that while sitting in this gondola, two people can focus on each other. But since the gondola glass behind Feline is well-maintained, I can clearly see Mlle. Howell and M. Gill. They... seem to be chatting with each other. Perhaps discussing their future together? Marriage plans and such? Certainly, the conversation seems serious, as evident in the expressions on Mlle. Howell's face from a distance of 13 meters.
I sigh. "Feline."
"Yes, Mr. Cake?" she responds.
As the Ferris wheel begins to turn, based on the information I read, it will rotate and stop three times, every five minutes.
"Have you thought about your future?" I ask with a somewhat serious tone, closing my eyes. Those are the words on my mind right now.
"Yeah, right now, I'm navigating the future, through a process..." she says, surprised not by me, but by the slushies she spoons every moment. "Ow! I thought it was just mango flavor mixed with sweetened condensed milk? Turns out there are small pieces of mango! Isn't that great!?"
Now, remember that this slow loris is always clever in diverting issues. Or perhaps, it's her best effort to avoid that answer.
"Yes, it is mango flavor mixed with sweetened condensed milk. Those small pieces of mango might make a round-eyed girl like you think that these slushies are made from real mangoes. Well, that's true, only with those small pieces of mango," I explain.
"Oh really? Everything is artificial? How do you know?" Feline turns to me with a skeptical and somewhat mocking tone.
"You know yourself that the current price of mango is 1 pound each, right? Whereas if these slushies use entirely real mangoes, they would need at least 3. And the slushies are no more than 4 to 5 pounds at most. They would only make a profit of 1 pound, which is very risky. If the store rent in this place is around 15 thousand pounds per year, and the slushie equipment they use is at least two thousand pounds, then that means they have to sell at least 17 thousand slushies per year or about 1417 slushies per month. It's possible, but when it comes to manpower, that's where the problem lies. Not to mention cleanliness taxes and others?"
"Wow, you're very mathematICE!" she praises me, trying to provoke.
"Well, it's just a matter of time when you answer me seriously and don't beat around the bush, or you fall from this height."
"Oh my, are you inviting me just to drop me? Wow, case open!"
She becomes even more toying me.
"Of course, that won't happen because you will listen to me and give your logical reasons. How about that? Case closed!"
The Ferris wheel continues to spin for two more rounds. Approximately in three minutes, it stops at the fifth minute.
"What's this? Do you want to be my mother, Mr. Cake?" Feline smiles thinly, playing with the ice in her slushies, which rapidly decreases by a quarter.
"Well, biologically it's impossible. But, habitually, a mother can also be interpreted as a guardian. In a situation like this, where I've been like your guardian until now, then... yes. Am I wrong, Feline?"
"The sleepy eyes like yours, Mr. Cake?"
I did hear that, but I pretend not to hear to give her a chance to justify her statement.
"What did you say just now?" I look at Feline seriously without blinking. It could be interpreted that I'm angry with her.
My eyes do look sleepy due to my sleep routine of no more than six hours. It's a bit dark around my eyes, indeed.
"O-oh... I mean, the cool guy, like that...?"
I remain silent so that she doesn't continue to joke. Moreover, if her chatter continues, I might really get angry.
"Well, actually, I still don't want to do that. Especially - going to school in Switzerland. I know Sister Lilia said that, or even Egremont tried to persuade me, but -"
"If you want to be a detective or an investigator, just say it seriously. But as information, just because you're a rich kid doesn't mean you can enter the back door without a diploma and voila~ become a first-rate detective? Not at all," I interrupt Feline.
Actually, I've been thinking about this since the beginning, about Feline. Well, I'm not dissatisfied with her presence in my shop. It's just that seeing a girl without clear direction for her future, even though she's been offered something that she'll regret if she misses, moves me to lecture her.
At least, Feline can understand how her family cares about her. Although at the same time, she hurt them for years, through a black case involving Antoinette.
Moreover, by following me, she will only end up as a servant in a cake shop or a small café.
"Mmmmnn..." she mumbles. The downward-leaning eyes with a pout on her lips indicate that she is annoyed and confused.
My gaze shifts momentarily to the back of Feline's seat, Mlle. Howell and M. Gill, whose expressions remain the same. They seem to still be talking seriously in these five minutes.
Then, the Ferris wheel starts to spin again towards the second batch.
"So, what do you want? Following me doesn't mean you become like me. There are many classic stories about this. Whether it's Watson following Holmes or Hastings following Poirot, you won't be more than a guesser. You need a professional mentor and firm determination to pursue it," I say.
"B-but, isn't Mr. Cake also an expert in that?!"
"I only understand case analysis and nothing more. Some explanations in my head may not necessarily be conveyed in a way that people understand. A house is not built with just one piece of wood, even if it's hard and sturdy Lignum wood. Education is still needed, while deduction doesn't come overnight. That's why I'm here to convince you that honestly, uh..."
I could see Feline's face, slightly saddened and perhaps disappointed. I didn't want to say that she has been following me for months, working at the store, just to learn from me. But the reality is just that. Unless she has faced a previous case.
"You...uh... really like details. But that alone won't be enough. Forever won't be enough," I finally say. It's better to say it like this than not at all. It might be some kind of ultimatum for her because after I uttered those words, Feline fell completely silent.
Oh my, have I gone too far? Well, what can I do? Previously, I never had experience dealing with teenagers, especially at my age, approaching 40. It's amusing, but it's the reality.
The Ferris wheel has spun several times, reaching its third rotation. It has stopped twice, and now it will head towards the final stop before we get off the ride.
Even after I said those ultimatum words, I only see Feline bowing down. It resembles the expression of a teenager who has just been kicked out of their parents' house. Even Feline is not interested in continuing the slurping milk and mango slushies that she was too enthusiastic about from the beginning.
"Hah..." I sigh deeply. After all, I shouldn't confuse people in the midst of their confusion. "Well, you always have time to think about it. There's nothing wrong with following your own methods. You may not reach greatness yet, but at least you can understand the basics of cooking?"
Feline slowly raises her head. She smiles a simple relief and thanks me.
Now, the wheel stops again. Placing us in the 3 o'clock position, Mlle. Voyles and M. Marsh should still be at 6 o'clock, and Mlle. Howell with M. Gill at 9 o'clock.
"Wow, they're so romantic, Mr. Cake!" Feline gets excited again. Nowadays, girls are so easily expressive.
I turn my body for a moment, trying to figure out what Feline is looking at. Initially, Mlle. Howell and M. Gill sat facing each other, but now they are sitting side by side, leaning against each other comfortably. Perhaps they are closed-eyed, imagining their future. If that's the case, the romantic legend of the Ferris Wheel might be proven true for some people. Although I feel something is missing, it doesn't seem too important.
"Maybe their marriage plans have been finalized," I say after turning back to face Feline.
"Marriage? They never told me that, huh?"
"Hah!? Why should someone with round eyes like you know? Aren't you just a slow loris?"
"Hey!"
The Ferris wheel has stopped. Almost all passengers have exited the Ferris wheel exit booth. Well, almost all. Because even after waiting for a few minutes, there are still four of us.
It should be six.
However, shortly after, a staff member at the Ferris wheel entrance booth is seen picking up a walkie-talkie. In two minutes, several other staff members gather and head towards the Ferris wheel in a hurry.
They wouldn't be getting on the Ferris wheel, would they? Moreover, the crowd at the Ferris wheel entrance booth is increasing. They're not even queuing; they're taking out their phones to take pictures.
What is actually happening? Why do I feel that something is wrong?
ns 15.158.61.6da2
