Chapter 56: The Wisdom Of Ogundele

Francisco stared at the frightened faces of the father and son, speechless for a moment.”Alright, alright, calm down,” he finally said, raising a hand. “I just need to know exactly what happened. Tell me the truth, and I promise I won’t fire your father. As for you—well, that depends on what I hear.”

The father glared at his son and smacked the back of his head.”You heard the young master—speak,” he ordered sternly.

“Yes, Father.” The boy swallowed hard. “It was two days ago, before Miss Catalina took you, young master, out of the factory. You told me to add… organic matter. But I didn’t know what that meant. I asked the other servants, but none of them knew either. So I looked around at all the materials and saw the orange peels. They were the only ones lying out, and they looked the most… organic. So I thought that’s what you meant.”

Carlos’s gaze snapped toward his son, his expression saying clearly: so you were the one responsible after all.

Francisco blushed, covering his face with one hand. “so it was my fault,” he admitted. “I must have been tired and told you that without thinking. Don’t worry about it, boy—you’re not in trouble. You can go.”

Both father and son exhaled with visible relief.

Then Francisco raised his voice toward the workers nearby. “From now on, if I ever tell you to touch any of these things—ignore me. No one is to handle anything from this section, even if I order it.”

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, then nodded and went back to work.

“Give this young man a month’s wages,” Francisco said to one of the older servants. “For wrongly accusing him.”

The servant’s eyes widened—a month’s pay just for a scolding? He shot the boy an envious glance, secretly wishing the young master would scold me too.

Francisco turned his attention back to the bowl. The citrus scent was sharp and almost pleasant. “This smell is strong,” he murmured. “Bring me a rabbit—let’s see how it reacts.”

They brought one, and he carefully placed a drop of the orange-scented alcohol on its fur. The result was the same as before—the poor animal trembled. Francisco frowned. “It’s the same thing,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

Carlos sighed with him. Then, suddenly, he straightened. “Wait, son. I have an idea.” He pointed at a nearby barrel. “Bring that one here.”

The servant who was about to seal it froze, then hurried to obey. “Here, master.”

Francisco watched his father’s movements and caught on quickly. “Ah, you want to see if it adds flavor to the aguardiente.”

Carlos nodded. “Exactly. You said before that water can dilute the alcohol’s toxicity—so I thought, what if instead we use another kind of alcohol? And considering the orange scent, why not try this?”

Francisco’s eyes lit up. “You’re a genius, Father.” He picked up the bowl, already thinking fast. “Wait—we’ll need to test proportions first. If this works, we might finally achieve what Grandfather wanted: a new, exclusive liquor he can sell in Spain for a fortune.”

He was about to start experimenting when Carlos stopped him. “Before you dive into that, you should visit Ogundele. He seems to have recovered.”

Francisco hesitated. “Honestly, I feel ashamed. I was the one who gave him permission to drink that alcohol.”

“I understand,” Carlos said gently. “But you still have to take responsibility. And I doubt that old man blames you. He was the one eager to try it.”

Francisco exhaled, resigned. “You’re right. I should face him—and apologize to Grandma María, too.”

Leaving the workshop, he walked toward María’s room. As he approached, he heard voices Outside the door, Ogundele speaking with a hint of coquetry say”Madam María, thanks to those beautiful hands, I can see life once more.”

Grandma María chuckled. “Oh, stop. We’re not at an age where sweet talk can still work,” she said — though her voice carried a spark of happiness.

“Come now, Madam María. Your beauty could captivate this old man with just a glance,” said Ogundele.

“You’re far too good with words,” she replied, amused. “How many women have you tried to seduce with such bold talk back in your country?”

“None,” Ogundele answered softly. “I was always devoted to steel and fire. I never gave much thought to women — until I saw you. When I woke up and saw your face, I knew my frail old heart had found a new fire.”

“Oh, what a bold old man you are, Mister Ogundele,” said Grandma María. She smiled despite herself, then added in a reproachful tone, “I’m going to speak with the servants to buy more herbs. And no more alcohol until your treatment is finished.”

She opened the door — and froze. Francisco stood there, eyes wide in surprise. Grandma María flushed and tried to hurry past him.

Ogundele laughed softly behind her. “After seeing her, I don’t want any more alcohol. Her beauty alone is enough to leave me dizzy.”He watched her flee like a shy girl, then turned to the doorway. “Ah, boy — come in. Are you here to visit an old man?”

Francisco stepped inside, still bewildered. “You look better than I expected,” he said. “A bit too energetic, maybe.” His eyes flicked toward the door María had just fled through.

Ogundele laughed heartily. “You need to learn to enjoy life, boy. I’ve spent too much of mine at the forge, always working, always fighting against death. Living here with you all gave me hope again. But that near-death experience—it reminded me I’m still afraid of dying. And meeting Madam María afterward… well, I’m grateful, from the heart.”

Francisco’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Ogundele. If I’d stopped you or tested the alcohol on someone else first, you might’ve been fine. My carelessness hurt you.”

Ogundele’s tone grew serious. “Boy, it wasn’t your fault. I was too eager to taste a stronger drink. When I smelled it, I was thrilled—I should’ve known better. My own greed blinded me. We both have something to learn from this.”

Francisco smiled faintly. “You’re right. I always forget how dangerouswhat i do can be. Alchemy tempts you with wonder, but it there is always danger in every step.”

Ogundele chuckled. “In my tribe, we have a name for young lads like you—we say they’re possessed by the fire of Ogun. They disrespect their elders, chase danger, and do whatever they please. But those same boys grow into hunters, warriors—sometimes heroes. You’re no different. I’ve seen what you can do. You’ll change the world, boy. I’m sure of it.”

Francisco smiled warmly. “Thank you… Grandpa Ogundele.”

Ogundele blinked in surprise by the title, then grinned proudly.

A little while later, Grandma María returned—this time with a stern look. Francisco straightened immediately. “I’m sorry, Grandma María. My recklessness hurt and almost killed Grandpa Ogundele.”

Her frown softened. “Honestly, boy, I worry about you more every day. Six years alone with Catalina… you need to learn to control your heart better.”

Before she could scold further, Ogundele intervened. “Madam María, this time it wasn’t entirely the boy’s fault.”

María turned her glare on him. “Don’t start with me, old man. It’s normal for a young one to make mistakes—but you, at your age, should have stopped him!”

Ogundele’s grin faded. He whispered to Francisco, “Go, boy. Let this old man face the storm.”

Francisco nodded quickly and slipped out, trying not to laugh.

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