xymnovel Chapter 117 Your theory has a fatal flaw.
Chapter 117 Your theory has a fatal flaw.
Alexandros's words were a precise key that pierced the deepest recesses of Nicholas Dimitrios's heart.
His pride made him disdainful of explaining himself to ordinary people.
But an even greater sense of pride drove him to yearn to prove his greatness to someone who truly understood him.
The ship to New York can be taken again at any time.
But in all of Greece, there was only one crown prince who was willing to listen and had the ability to turn his ideas into reality.
Dimitrios gave Alexandros a deep look, and the turbulent emotions in his burning eyes finally condensed into two words.
"lead the way."
His voice was hoarse, yet resolute.
The distance between the chaos and stench of the port of Piraeus and the solemnity and grandeur of the royal palace in Athens is only a carriage ride.
Dimitrios sat stiffly on the soft velvet cushion, like an incongruous statue. He had never ridden in such a smooth carriage before; the wheels rolled over the cobblestones with barely a sound, only a smooth gliding sensation.
He subconsciously reached out and touched the cushion beneath him. The delicate touch made his fingertips tremble, and he quickly withdrew his hand.
Outside the window, the city scenery rushed past.
The filthy dock area, with its low shacks and noisy crowds, was quickly left behind. The streets gradually widened and became cleaner, and the buildings on both sides changed from wooden to stone. As the carriage entered the noble district with its white marble buildings, Dimitrios's throat bobbed.
His life trajectory should have led him to the docks, to the turbulent cargo holds, and to an unknown new continent.
Now, this royal carriage is carrying him toward the center of power.
The carriage stopped in front of the magnificent palace gates.
The guards stood tall and straight, their cold bayonets reflecting a blinding glint in the sunlight. Dimitrios followed behind Alexandros, walking on the gleaming marble floor that reflected their figures. His boots echoed clearly as they stepped on it, making him realize for the first time how shabby his only decent old suit truly was.
Along the corridor hung portraits of past kings, their majestic gazes piercing through the canvases as they scrutinized this uninvited guest.
Dimitrios felt a sudden unease.
But he immediately straightened his thin spine.
He was neither a beggar nor a subject who came to pay homage.
He is a prophet carrying the seeds of the future, who comes to be "interviewed" by a monarch.
Alexandros did not lead him to the magnificent drawing room, but instead led him directly to the door of a study.
"His Highness is inside," Alexandros said softly, then stepped aside, disappearing into the shadows of the wall.
Dimitrios straightened his wrinkled collar and pushed open the heavy oak door.
The study was not as luxurious as I had imagined.
A person sits behind a large desk in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window.
The man was young, much younger than he had imagined. His short, golden hair gleamed softly in the afternoon sunlight, and his well-tailored dark uniform accentuated his tall and straight figure. He was looking down at a document, his pen scratching softly across the paper.
His focus and innate composure made people subconsciously overlook his age.
He is the Crown Prince of Greece, Constantine.
Hearing the door open, Constantine looked up, his gaze passing over the desk and landing on Dimitrios.
His gaze was calm, without curiosity or disdain, as if he were looking at something perfectly normal.
"Sit," Constantine's voice rang out, gentle and clear.
Dimitrios sat down opposite him, his back still ramrod straight, but his buttocks only occupied a third of the chair.
Constantine made no polite remarks; his gaze fell on the roll of parchment Alexandros was holding.
Alexandros stepped forward and respectfully placed the drawings on the desk.
Constantine reached out and took the roll of blueprints that contained all the hard work and hopes of a genius.
He did not unfold it immediately.
Instead, he gently ran his fingertips along the rough edges of the parchment, feeling the marks of time etched upon it. He even brushed away a speck of dust that had accidentally settled on a corner of the drawing.
This subtle movement made Dimitrios's heart skip a beat.
That's a form of respect.
It's not just about respecting him, but also about respecting his research.
Then, Constantine unfolded the blueprints with both hands.
"Splash..."
The parchment was spread out on the large desk, and the sound it made was the only noise in the study at that moment.
Dimitrios's heart leaped into his throat.
His hands clenched unconsciously on his knees, his nails digging deep into his palms.
He was both a prisoner awaiting final judgment and a believer hoping for divine enlightenment. He longed for the crown prince to discern the world-shaking power within these complex lines and symbols. Yet, he was also afraid—afraid to see the same bewilderment, confusion, or even mockery on that young face as on everyone else.
The pain of being misunderstood by the world is more painful than any sword.
Constantine's gaze slowly moved across the blueprints.
Dimitrios noticed that the Crown Prince's gaze skipped over the intricate coil windings and the precise mechanical diagrams.
His gaze, precisely, landed on the most crucial part of the blueprint.
There, he derived a series of key calculation formulas for constructing a rotating magnetic field, which he had worked through countless sleepless nights.
That was the cornerstone of his entire alternating current theory! It was proof that he was ahead of his time!
The Crown Prince... can he understand it?
The thought had barely crossed his mind when Dimitrios forcefully suppressed it. Impossible, absolutely impossible!
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly at that moment.
The study was so quiet you could hear the dust falling into the sunlight.
Dimitrios felt as if his breath was about to stop.
After an unknown amount of time, Constantine finally raised his head.
His expression remained calm, revealing neither joy nor anger.
He looked at Dimitrios, his blue eyes reflecting the genius's tense yet proud face.
Then he spoke.
"Mr. Dimitrios," the Crown Prince's voice was gentle, "with this blueprint alone, you surpass all the electrical engineers in the world today."
These words sent a jolt through Dimitrios, and a surge of ecstasy rushed straight to the top of his head!
He understands! He really understands!
Before he could even savor this belated recognition, Constantine's next words made him feel as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, and his heart sank to the bottom instantly.
"But," Constantine stated calmly, without any change in tone, "haven't you noticed that your most prized core contains a small yet fatal flaw?"