Chapter 577: Yesterday You Ignored Me, Today You Can't Reach Me
"No! Marian won't leave me!"
Achard ignored Batsch's dissuasion and rushed back to the Old Eden Inn like a madman, only to find that Mr. Schumann, Marian's brother, had already left.
He pulled an invitation from under the door, then discovered a letter behind it.
The letter was from Miss Marian, stating that she had decided to prioritize her family, accepted Mr. Bourget's proposal, and wished Achard happiness, among other things.
It was a highly practical choice. Although she had once been captivated by Achard's charm and erudition, he was ultimately just a "poor vegetable farmer." Moreover, her brother had threatened to withhold her dowry if she married him, so in the end, she chose the wealthy merchant Bourget.
Achard wept profusely, but unlike before, he didn't drown his sorrows in a tavern. Instead, he moved all his belongings to the French Academy of Sciences, where he worked through the night to forget everything else.
The next day, as the Crown Prince was to attend the opening ceremony and exercise demonstration at the French Royal Military University, genetics classes were suspended for three days.
"Ah, you're hard to find,"
Batsch pushed open the door to Achard's temporary workshop in the Academy, gesturing to the servant behind him. "He's indeed here."
Achard maintained his posture, looking up as he observed the pollen. "My thanks to the Vicomte, but I must respectfully decline—"
Batsch hurriedly whispered in his ear, "This is a rare opportunity! Many great scholars will be attending, such as Mr. Brisson, Count Lamarck, and Mr. Le Roy—"
"Furthermore, have you forgotten what Mr. Graf said? Socializing is a crucial part of research."
"Go, I beg you."
He was genuinely worried about his friend's mental state, so he eagerly urged Achard to attend the ball and clear his head.
Ultimately, Achard relented under Batsch's persistent coaxing.
The following evening, Achard's carriage pulled up before the gates of Versailles.
Batsch was still caressing the exquisite "Gem" model carriage, his face filled with disbelief. "Is this really your carriage? Oh, my God, you lucky fellow, you were directly classified as D-rank!"
That day, Achard had been so heartbroken by his romantic setback that he hadn't spoken much, so Batsch only now learned that Achard had received an invitation from the Talent Committee.
While Batsch himself was only an E-rank talent, and the ordinary carriage he was assigned was far less comfortable and luxurious than this "Gem 2" model.
Achard, utterly distracted, was led by his townsman into the grand ballroom, where he was immediately struck by the luxurious and opulent atmosphere.
Soon, music filled the air. Achard listlessly mingled with the guests when he suddenly saw Brisson approaching with a lavishly dressed nobleman in his forties.
"Vicomte Didot, this is Dr. Achard, Germany's most outstanding expert in horticulture."
Vicomte Didot immediately stepped forward, smiled at Achard, and enthusiastically introduced himself.
For the next hour or so, he left all other guests aside and simply conversed with Achard.
Indeed, Vicomte Didot's most important objective that evening was this young biologist; one could even say the ball was held specifically for him.
Didot, as Brisson's close friend and a major patron of the French Academy of Sciences, had already learned that the Crown Prince intended to vigorously promote sugar beet processing.
As an excellent entrepreneur and investor, he immediately sniffed out a huge business opportunity – his previous investment in the Crown Prince's paper mill had quadrupled his wealth in two years.
Naturally, he intended to seize this opportunity firmly as well!
He then heard about Achard, including that the latter was the inventor of sugar beet processing technology, a senior talent recognized by the Talent Committee, and that the Crown Prince himself had lectured him on "genetics" for an entire week.
Although he didn't know what genetics was, the Crown Prince's high regard for Achard was undeniable.
"Haha, I feel like we're old friends," Vicomte Didot declared, placing a hand rather intimately on Achard's back and raising his glass. "To our friendship!"
Just then, a beautiful girl, seventeen or eighteen years old, wearing a light purple gown fashionable for the season, approached. She linked her arm through Vicomte Didot's and spoke in a sweet voice, "Father, why aren't you dancing? Everyone is looking for you."
Didot immediately smiled and introduced to Achard, "Franz, this is my daughter, Ariel."
"Ariel, this is Dr. Achard—"
At one in the morning, as the ball concluded, Ariel saw Achard off to his carriage, offering him a sweet smile and a polite curtsy goodbye.
Half a month later.
Miss Marian Schumann, arm in arm with her fiancé, an unremarkable paper merchant, happily chatted with her brother about the small villa they would use for their wedding.
She was now immensely glad she hadn't let love cloud her judgment and chosen that poor biologist; he certainly couldn't afford such a beautiful house.
The butler tapped lightly on the door, entered, and handed an invitation to Bourget. "Sir, this arrived for your household. It seems to be an invitation for Vicomte Didot's daughter, Miss Ariel, who is getting engaged next week. You are invited to attend."
"Vicomte Didot?" Bourget quickly took the invitation, then cast a proud glance at his future brother-in-law. "We'll need to prepare a substantial gift for that."
Vicomte Didot was a renowned magnate in the papermaking industry, a top factory owner, and immensely wealthy.
It was by transporting products from Didot's paper mills to Italy that Bourget had amassed his considerable wealth. To receive an invitation from him now naturally made Bourget feel extremely proud.
"I wonder which fortunate gentleman has won Miss Ariel's favor."
He said, opening the invitation, then looked at his fiancée and chuckled:
"Franz Achard? The same name as that Bavarian fellow who used to pester you, haha."
"Hm?" Across from him, Schumann froze, snatched the invitation, and quickly scanned it. A sudden ominous premonition welled up in his heart.
He found an excuse to leave, muttering, "No, it couldn't be him... It certainly isn't that guy..."
In the following days, the Schumann household was shrouded in a thick gloom.
Marian Schumann stepped out of her carriage and gazed at the magnificent "Great Scholar's Palace" villa before her, feeling it was on par with the finest residences in "Starlight Gardens."
Compared to this, her fiancé's small house was practically no different from a pigsty!
Inside, her heart screamed and roared.
She herself had once had the chance to live here, but her foolish brother had ruined it!
It was rumored that Achard had been classified as a D-rank talent by the Talent Committee, with government stipends alone reaching 7,000 francs annually!
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