Charles Godfrey decided against the bar. Instead, he found himself scrolling through his phone at the hotel, desperately seeking any distraction from his lonely New Year's Eve.
When he noticed a nearby theater was showing "Hamilton: An American Musical," he made an impulsive decision. At least it would pass the time.
The theater was crowded with holiday crowds, but Charles managed to slip into a seat. As the opening notes began and Aaron Burr stepped onto the stage, something stirred in him, a spark of recognition he couldn't quite name.
He watched, transfixed, as Hamilton clawed his way up from nothing, an orphan immigrant who refused to accept his circumstances. Charles saw himself in those desperate ambitions, those relentless strivings. But as the story unfolded, something shifted in his mind.
I could do better than this, Charles thought, watching the fatal duel loom on stage. I wouldn't waste opportunities on pride and scandal. I wouldn't let personal vendettas destroy everything I built. If I had a second chance like Hamilton did, if I could go back to the founding era. I would build something that actually lasted.
By the final act, Charles was so absorbed in his thoughts that he barely registered the intermission. He was still thinking about how differently he would navigate those early years of the nation, how he might bridge divides instead of deepen them, when he stumbled out of the theater still lost in reverie.
The honk came first. Then the blinding headlights. A delivery truck swerved out of nowhere, and Charles had no time to move.
______
Charles Godfrey was awakened by a gentle call.
"Sir! Sir! Young Sir Godfrey..." In his daze, the calling sounded very clear, yet not so loud as to be disturbing.
Rubbing his aching forehead, Charles opened his eyes.
Standing before him, gently calling out, was a white man in his forties.
He had a hooked nose, blue eyes, and a stiff, horse-like face. What was amusing was that he was wearing a white, curled wig, just like those judges in the UK. And the calling he had just heard seemed to be in slightly disjointed english.
"Who are you?" Charles casually asked in english, continuing to rub his throbbing head.
"I am your butler, Jonathan," the wigged man replied softly, his face showing no change. He seemed completely unsurprised by Charles' question and bowed slightly to him.
"Johnson," Charles quietly repeated the wigged man's name in english.
"It's Jonathan."
"Oh, it's Jonathan." His headache eased slightly, and Charles heard the wigged man's reply more clearly. It seemed Jonathan and Johnson were pronounced a little differently. But he was immediately startled by another word:
"Butler? What's this some British tv drama?"
Only then did he notice that he was in a very luxurious room, definitely not the three-star hotel he had been staying in.
Not to mention the much larger area of the house, the most crucial aspect was the furnishings: European-style furniture made of solid wood, clearly, inlaid with gold and silver threads. The lamp holders on the dining table seemed to be gilded, and there were some very fine porcelain and handicrafts.
Although the walls appeared to be painted with not-so-high-end paint, the value of that wall could be roughly estimated from the several huge oil paintings hanging on it. The floor was just ordinary solid wood flooring, unrefined, but the cashmere rug over there looked like a high-end item...
"Yes, sir! I am your butler. Are you awake now? I'd like to report on our financial situation." The wigged man noticed Charles' eyes darting around, and a hint of relief flashed in his eyes as he began to speak to him in a low voice again.
"What sir? Are you talking about me?"
Charles was fully awake now. He not only noticed the special room but also his own abnormalities. His fingers had light golden body hair, white skin, and faintly visible blue veins—these were definitely not his original hands.
"..." Jonathan's stiff face couldn't help but show a trace of bewilderment.
"Wait, wait! It must be a joke, let me clear my head!" Charles lightly tapped his own head a few times. "Uh, honestly, what time is it now? What year? Where am I? What place is this?"
He added another sentence just as Jonathan was about to speak.
"Also, can you... um, can you tell me who I am?"
Even the professionally trained Jonathan couldn't help but change his expression with a hint of shock upon hearing Charles' long string of bizarre questions. However, after a few short seconds, Jonathan took two deep breaths and immediately reverted to his original stiff face.
He bowed slightly and replied softly.
"As you wish, sir! It is February 14th, 1776, since the birth of our Lord and Savior. We are currently in Pittsburgh, or by its former French name, Fort Duquesne. If His Majesty the King of England's glory can once again shine upon this land, then we should be considered within Ohio, but we are currently governed by the Independence Party council in Philadelphia, belonging to Pennsylvania.
"This is your home, Scarlet Manor, located thirty miles from Fort Pitt (or Fort Pittsburgh). As for you..." Jonathan bowed again, "You are Young Godfrey, the son of Lord Godfrey, full name York Reval Graffell Godfrey, a nobleman of His Majesty the King of England and the rightful owner of this estate, Scarlet Manor."
"1776..." Charles murmured softly.
While Jonathan was speaking, he had already stood up and walked to the window.
Seeing the vast, flat fields outside, and the black people turning the soil and tending to the wheat seedlings in the fields, Charles no longer doubted that Jonathan was lying.
He was just a front desk manager at an international travel agency, spoke good english, and could manage a few sentences of French and Spanish. Before waking up, he only remembered having just finished watching Hamilton in a theater in New York.
What was happening before his eyes sounded quite fake, but absolutely no one would put on such a grand show just to play a prank on him. It seemed that the isekai he read about in novels had happened to him. And coincidentally, he had even been put into the body of a nobleman in this era.
Good, good. His surname was still Godfrey, so there wouldn't be any confusion.
Damn it! 1776, wasn't that the time of the American War of Independence? My goodness, America at this time was definitely one of the most dangerous places on earth. Either the Royalists killed the Independence Party, or the Independence Party killed the Royalists. It was the 18th century version of Crips versus Bloods, literally.
How could he survive? Go back to the modern day? That seemed impossible, there was no mechanism, no explanation, no way forward. He was trapped in 1776, and wishing for his old life wouldn't change that reality.
So he had to accept it: this was his new world now. A world without the internet, without modern medicine, without any of the conveniences he'd taken for granted. A world where he was a complete stranger.
But perhaps, and the thought came to him slowly, perhaps this was the second chance he'd been thinking about in that theater.
A transitioning nation needed people with vision. And Charles Godfrey, orphan and survivor, had spent his whole life learning how to navigate impossible situations.
Maybe 1776 wasn't a prison. Maybe it was an opportunity.
"Um, Jonathan, right? How is the War of Independence going now?" Charles decided to first ask about the situation in America, then seize the opportunity.
Because America was currently in the War of Independence, the Wars he had seen on TV before were all very terrifying. He had to make a choice quickly; if he didn't align with either side, he might be attacked by both. He didn't want to die in a daze without even understanding the situation. Whatever happened, surviving was the primary consideration now.
"War of Independence? Ah you mean the rebellion" Jonathan frowned slightly. "There's fighting outside, but I'm not very clear on the specifics. I hear those rebellious farmers, led by Washington, are still besieging Boston, with no major changes. But in other states, because the royal army has been slow to counterattack, many areas have joined the rebel organizations. Now, most of Pennsylvania has fallen into the hands of the rebels, and the situation is not very good."
Only then did Charles notice that his wigged, stiff-faced butler seemed to strongly dislike the Americans in the Independence Party, referring to them either as rebels or farmers. Could he already be a royalist? That would be very bad. Even if he were to become a royalist, it should be somewhere outside America. Wouldn't being one now make him the prime target for the Independence Party?
This question was crucial; he had to get it clear, even if it meant revealing his identity.
"So, does our family support independence or the king of England?" Charles Godfrey asked in a deep voice.
Jonathan stared at Charles Godfrey for a few moments, then finally replied in a very low tone:
"That all depends on you, sir. Haven't you already made your decision?"
"This... Jonathan. I have some very unfortunate news to tell you now. Are you willing to hear it?"
"Sir! I feel like I've been hearing unfortunate news for the past few days. No matter how unfortunate the news you have to tell me is, I am willing to bear it." Jonathan looked at the emblem on his clothes, seemingly thinking in a different direction.
"Alright! What I'm going to tell you now is that I seem to have amnesia," Charles said softly, explaining his situation. His face was expressionless, but his heart was very unsettled, ready to respond to Jonathan's subsequent questions at any moment.
Jonathan secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that the young man, due to financial difficulties, was preparing to dismiss him.
However, his face still maintained its stiff expression, only looking at Charles with a slight hint of questioning, and even a touch of disdain in his eyes.
"As you wish, sir! I will tell those debt collectors that you have amnesia."
"Good!" Charles nodded with a smile.
Butlers at this time were great; whatever the master said, they would agree. I like it.
Hold on, wait a moment, something ain't right. Debt collectors? Even in this life?
"Wait! Jonathan. You just mentioned debt collectors? Am I not a nobleman? Do I owe money to others?" The identity issue was resolved, but he couldn't just inherit a pile of debts for nothing.
"Yes, sir. Your father, Lord Godfrey, sold his ancestral property in England for wealth and came to North America. Before and after the Seven Years' War between England and France, he borrowed one thousand pounds, plus his own savings, to purchase ten thousand acres of undeveloped land near Pittsburgh and a large river outlet with its associated mudflats.
After the Seven Years' War ended, the Lord resigned from his position as Tax Officer to develop new land here. During that time, he borrowed eight thousand pounds from sir Stanislas to purchase slaves and build this Scarlet Manor.
After His Majesty the king of England announced the confiscation of land in the Ohio area, intending to grant it to domestic nobles, he borrowed thirty thousand pounds from the governor and the Bank of England to purchase ninety thousand acres of land and lakes.
Because those damned rebel militiamen did not recognize the British king's land deeds, that land could not be cultivated at all. Coupled with a shortage of manpower, the output was less than the interest. The lord also fell from his horse and died after getting drunk. You returned last year from studying in France, inheriting his estate, and naturally also inherited his debts.
Last year, after those rebels decided to boycott all British goods and prohibit the import of slaves, you said slave prices would rise, and you borrowed ten thousand pounds from the Tax Officer to buy three manors and five hundred slaves from those who were selling their property to return to England..."
Jonathan, without consulting an account book, recited all the debts of our young sir Godfrey.
Charles felt his forehead start to ache again.
Debts? Slavery? Economics?
All of this was giving him a headache.
He could mostly understand acres and pounds when separated, but when combined, how much this plot of land cost, how much that plot of land cost, he was completely confused about his total assets and liabilities.
"Could you just give me a summary? How much debt do I have in total, and how much cash and deposits do I still possess?"
"Your debts, including interest, theoretically total fifty-three thousand and seventeen pounds. As for cash, yesterday you took the last two pounds to buy alcohol, and now I only have eleven shillings and sixpence left in my hand." Jonathan pulled out a shriveled purse, which contained only a few coins.
Alcohol? Past Charles must have given up all hope, if you take in inflation, that's about 5000$ worth of alcohol, enough to give Charles liver pain just thinking about it.
Charles felt around his own body and found an even more shriveled purse with two more coins inside. In another pocket, however, there was a more valuable item: a mirror with a gold base, or rather, gold inlaid with a mirror.
The base was a flat, oval piece of gold, only the size of a palm, but in the middle was a glass mirror not much larger than a watch. At the boundary between the gold and the mirror, beautiful leaf and thorn-like patterns were displayed. This was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship; even without considering the value of the gold, the exquisite artistry alone made it very valuable.
Now, Charles Godfrey had started to view everything through the lens of money.
He shook the mirror and looked at himself; not bad, at least several years younger. The person in the mirror was an eighteen-year-old handsome youth, the typical image of a decadent aristocratic young man: unhealthy skin, a bit too pale, with even a few traces of healed acne on his face; green eyes, a high nose bridge, deeply sunken eye sockets, giving him a very three-dimensional look, though Charles suspected that was the result of heavy drinking; his nose was quite prominent, thankfully not the hooked nose Charles disliked; a head of slightly brownish-blonde hair, with two curls on each side, and a short little ponytail trailing behind his head, very handsome. Overall, Charles found him quite pleasing to the eye.
Damn, Bradd Pitt got nothing on this. I lucked out.
Aside from the facial structure that subtly hinted at a military temperament for some unknown reason, the overall assessment should be that of a relatively decadent young man. However, he also knew that times were different, people's perspectives were different, and if a white person from this era saw him, he might even be considered a rather good aristocratic youth.
"It is now eleven shillings and sixteen pence, fourpence short of one pound." Jonathan glanced at the coins in Charles' hand and accurately reported the cash balance. The old British pound subsidiary coins were "shilling" and "pence." 1 pound = 12 shillings, 1 shilling = 20 pence. From February 1, 1971, the pound switched to decimalization, 1 pound = 100 new pence, and shillings were abolished.
Charles smiled bitterly and helplessly: With so little money in hand and so many debts, I should find an opportunity to leave America. At worst, I'll go to Africa and become a tribal chief!
He also had a dream of going to the Himalayas to be taught martial arts by the tibetan monks, Batman style, but ironically he was afraid of heights.
"How can this even be considered nobility? I imagine an ordinary american farmer is richer than I am!"
"The glory of a nobleman lies in his character, sir!" Jonathan said this without any hint of flattery on his face. But seeing Charles' expression, as if he had swallowed a fly, he continued to explain. "Being penniless is not shameful, sir.
Most nobles who were willing to come to the 13 Colonies were very poor, and many nobles have already given up their titles and are growing tobacco themselves, just like those farmers.
For those of us who own a lot of land and estates, with daily output, at least we don't have to worry about daily life, which is still quite good. As long as we reclaim those barren lands into fertile, cultivated land and sell them, we can net about three pounds per acre."
"Oh? Right! How much land did you say I have? Ten thousand plus ninety thousand, at least one hundred thousand acres of land, right?" Charles remembered that he was still a big landowner and could sell land to pay off debts. He did some calculation in his mind and found out his land was about 156 square miles or 400 square kilometers!
That's almost half the size of Singapore!
He muttered to himself: There aren't many mountains here in Pittsburgh, so even after removing the unusable mountains, lakes, and mudflats, it definitely wouldn't be less than thirty thousand acres of land.
My God! My God! Charles started pacing in front of the window.
If all of it were reclaimed into fertile land, it would be roughly equivalent to the total amount of fertile land in an agricultural county. How could such a good thing exist in the world? I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving. With so much land, I won't leave even if you kill me.
"If there are no legal disputes, it is one hundred thousand acres of land, of which there are approximately one thousand three hundred and fifty acres of mudflats and lakes. But in reality, we only occupy less than ten thousand acres of land and lakes."
"What's this about legal disputes?" Sure enough, such good things don't come cheap.
"This goes back to the Seven Years' War between England and France. The war was fought over control of the Ohio area, including present-day Pittsburgh. After the war, Britain not only successfully gained Ohio but also seized Canada from France.
However, to encourage the Colonies authorities to participate in the War, the British government promised that the land conquered by the Colonial government would belong to the Colonial government.
Pittsburgh and its surrounding areas, having been captured by Colonial militias, became part of the Pennsylvania Colonial State. Your father, The old lord, purchased ten thousand acres of barren land from the Governor of Pennsylvania before the War was even won.
This is the area we now occupy. However, shortly after the Seven Years' War, king George again declared a strict prohibition on colonial authorities expanding westward.
The original Ohio land was to be repossessed by the crown, and the newly appointed colonial governors were to sell the confiscated land on behalf of the crown."
Hearing this, Charles couldn't help but shake his head. All monarchs are equally muddle-headed when they become so. It was a universal truth that transcended geography or era, the moment a ruler lost touch with their people and their land, they began to make catastrophic decisions.
King George was systematically destroying the very foundation of his own power, selling off territory and alienating colonists who might have remained loyal with better governance.
Charles had read enough history to know this was the pattern: empires fell when their leaders became too distant, too greedy, too inflexible. And king George was proving to be a master class in how not to hold onto power.
"The old lord feared his land would be confiscated, so he simply purchased ninety thousand acres of land adjacent to the original land from the new governor. As the first person to purchase a large area of the British king's land, and as a nobleman loyal to the crown, the governor promised to convert the colonial deed for the original ten thousand acres of land into a royal deed for free."
Charles was speechless.
It seemed his one hundred thousand acres of land were about to fly away. The War of Independence resulted in the victory of the american people, so at that time, a royal deed would be nothing but a piece of waste paper.
No! Absolutely not! The land that falls into my hands must not be given to others! Charles was the most loyal miser. In his previous life, he was an orphan who he toiled for half his life and didn't even have a fixed property.
Now, he suddenly found himself with one hundred thousand acres of land, but before he could even warm his hands on it, it faced the danger of flying away, so he naturally refused to let go.
"Unfortunately, on those ninety thousand acres of newly purchased land, there are already more than twenty households. They are all former colonial militiamen who, because of their military merits in capturing Pittsburgh, each received one hundred to three hundred acres of barren land.
When The old lord surveyed the barren land according to the deed, preparing to reclaim it, they all came out to obstruct the survey. Even when The old lord requested the governor to send militiamen to evict them on the grounds of illegal occupation, those people were completely unfazed.
Instead, they greeted the colonial militiamen who came to evict them warmly, because they were already acquaintances. Alas, at that time, the governor comforted him, saying they could wait for His Majesty the king of England's independent companies to evict them.
As a result, those colonials actually rebelled. The few independent companies were initially busy suppressing the rebels, and now they are trapped in Boston. It's still unknown when they will be able to deal with this matter.
Even the governor has now fled to Boston. Those rebels are becoming more and more arrogant, sir. If you still decide to sell the black slaves before going to Boston, please be very careful when you go out in the future. Those people kill without batting an eye…"
"Sell the black slaves?" Charles had a new question.
Jonathan didn't mind Charles' surprise, and secretly admired him, thinking that the sir was indeed experienced; at least by frequently feigning despondency now, he wouldn't expose himself in front of others later.
"Sir, after you returned last year, having cut short your studies in France, I heard that enslaved people were very cheap on the market, and those colonial assemblies had issued bans prohibiting the import of enslaved people from Britain.
You then said that based on some principle or another, the market supply would decrease, and the price of enslaved people would definitely rise in the future, so you bought five hundred enslaved people in one go.
Well, although those five hundred enslaved people were just incidental items for three estates, you did say that when you asked me for money to buy them."
Charles was a little amused; it seemed this past Charles often spoke nonsense with his eyes wide open.
However, his reasoning was very sound for the times: the development of America required a large number of enslaved people, and according to the principle of market supply and demand, the price of enslaved people would theoretically rise.
He nodded and said, "Now, the development of the Midwest, like ours, requires a large number of slaves.
With high demand, those in bondage should sell very well, right?"
Jonathan shook his head with a bitter smile: "On the contrary, the current situation is chaotic.
The British government has issued a retaliatory order, stating that if slaves participate in suppressing the rebellion for the British army, they can become free citizens after victory, so now no one dares to buy slaves at all."
"Uh?" Charles was speechless.
He had forgotten that although the British trafficked slaves, they didn't entirely approve of the system of slavery.
"Then what should we do? If we can't sell the slaves, we can't just support them for free, can we?"
"We can only make use of what we have now."
Last year, I had people buy a large quantity of high-quality corn and wheat seeds, and had those enslaved people quickly plant corn on the undeveloped wasteland.
There's enough grain to eat.
Later, I had them clear more wasteland and plant some winter wheat.
Now, as spring is about to begin, I've already told them to prepare to clear land, and we can sow spring wheat next month.
Anyway, with so much undeveloped land, we won't be supporting them for nothing.
Once the British king's army puts down the rebellion, it's very likely that the land will be developed, and the price of enslaved people will also have risen.
Our estate produces everything for food, clothing, housing, and transportation, so we should be able to last a few years without a problem." Jonathan's answer this time finally made Charles feel a bit more satisfied.
"Alas…" Charles sighed.
It seemed the original owner of this body was a man of theory, understanding how supply and demand affect prices in economics, but forgetting that the market is also influenced by current events.
Fortunately, the old butler's abilities were good, and he made arrangements in time.
The current situation looked difficult, but according to Jonathan, with food, clothing, housing, and transportation all secured, it was definitely not a situation where they couldn't survive.
However, the future was hard to say; at least if someone came to demand payment for debts, that would still be very troublesome.
He himself only knew some common sense about economics and was not skilled in specific arrangements; it seemed he would have to rely heavily on this butler in the future.
"Thank you, Jonathan!
If it weren't for your timely arrangements, I would probably be bankrupt by now, wouldn't I?" Charles said sincerely.
"If there were no debts, guarding such a large piece of land, you would never go bankrupt.
However, as it stands, if someone comes to collect debts, we could still go bankrupt at any time," Jonathan paused, then added with some effort, "Speaking of which, we should thank those rebellious Colonial people.
With their rebellion, many debts are unclear, and no one is willing to sue us at this time.
By the time the War ends, we should be able to sell land to pay off debts.
However, sir, I still want to sincerely advise you: in the future, when buying things, you must be cautious, again and again!"
Seeing the old butler's resentful gaze towards him, Charles knew that the former young York must have caused the old butler a lot of trouble.
He felt too awkward to argue about things he didn't know, so he simply turned his head back to the window and said, making conversation: "That, having enslaved people turn the soil with hoes is very slow.
Even with five hundred more people, it would be impossible to turn all that land in one or two months, right?
Why not use horses?
Even if there are no cows, horses can pull plows on dry land, can't they?"
It seemed that farmers in Europe and America disliked using livestock for training, which led to developed animal husbandry, while crop farming adopted extensive management, resulting in very low yields per mu.
If he introduced Chinese-style intensive training, perhaps just farming could make him a fortune.
However, this was clearly a foolish idea.
"sir, in a normal year, one cow can be exchanged for three enslaved people, and one horse can be exchanged for five enslaved people.
Now, the prices of cattle and horses have risen a lot on the market, while enslaved people are being sold but no one is buying.
If it weren't for the fear that the enslaved people we buy might run off to join the British army, I would even suggest you buy more enslaved people," Jonathan's expression remained unchanged, but his tone couldn't help but carry a hint of helplessness.
"Haha! Is that so!" Charles laughed awkwardly, "The enslaved people I bought, they haven't gone to join the British army, have they?"
"Not yet.
There are very few enslaved people in the North; those who join the British army mainly come from Southern plantations.
However, the main force of the British army itself is currently besieged in Boston by a militia led by a man named Washington, so not many enslaved people truly dare to join them.
Moreover, most enslaved people wouldn't truly trust the British army who trafficked them here." Jonathan shook his head, "But I still advise you to quickly sell the enslaved people and take your most valuable possessions to Boston.
Only there can our safety be completely guaranteed.
As for the land and the estate, once the army from the mainland or Canada arrives in the future, they will definitely help us reclaim them.
After all, safety comes first."
When Jonathan considered problems, he always proceeded with the major premise that the British army would ultimately win.
But it was understandable; at this time, not only Jonathan believed the British army would surely win, but people all over the world, and even General Washington himself, the commander of the continental army, didn't quite believe that America could defeat powerful Britain.
Before being appointed commander of the continental army, Washington had tried every means to decline, but he was ultimately appointed by vote, and he himself stated: "To avoid misinterpretation and damage to my reputation, I request that the gentlemen present remember that today I sincerely declare that I believe myself unworthy of the honor bestowed upon me."
At that time, the colonial representatives of America and Washington only thought of resisting through War to make the British king realize the unyielding spirit of the Americans and ultimately recognize their interests.
The Declaration of Independence was also issued a year after the War began; before that, people's slogans were mainly "Take up arms," not "No independence, I'd rather die."
Even after the Declaration of Independence was published and independence was formally declared, only a few far-sighted individuals like Washington, through previous battles, saw hope of defeating the British army.
Ordinary people still held no hope for victory in the War.
However, Charles knew the future course of history, and of course, knew that the ultimate victor would be America; she not only achieved independence but also achieved it after defeating the British army.
If he were to leave America at this time, those lands would long since belong to someone else by the time he returned in the future.
So he immediately and resolutely refused: "No, I want to stay.
Since Boston is currently besieged by General Washington, going there now would be walking into a trap."
Charles had now figured out that as long as he wasn't labeled a royalist, he wouldn't fear attack from the Colonial side; historically, the British didn't seem to have reached Pittsburgh, and given his identity as a descendant of British nobility, he shouldn't be attacked or assassinated by the British army.
As for the American army, except for their initial success, they were continuously suppressed by the British army until their final victory.
If he just offered a little help, he might even be able to solidify his ownership of those one hundred thousand acres of land.
He had realized that with past Charles' noble status and the land and enslaved people he possessed, he was definitely a relatively influential and prominent figure in Pennsylvania, at least in Pittsburgh.
He should be an object that both warring parties would try to win over, and he could curry favor with both sides.
Naturally, it was impossible for him to rush to Boston to join the British army, who were destined to fail in America.
Actually, he would never do that, join the brits? Not in a thousand years mate!
Seeing that Jonathan wanted to say more, Charles, who felt he had already grasped the general situation, didn't want to listen anymore.
He waved his hand and said, "That's enough. I'll figure out how to solve the financial problems. I still have a bit of a headache and want to rest alone for a while."
"As you wish, sir!" Jonathan, very adept at reading expressions, bowed and exited the room.