Inside the factory, it was far less busy than Tver had expected.
Only four or five workers were operating the machines. After a burst of mechanical rumbling, a cardboard box was pushed aside. From the faint rustling inside, Tver could tell it was filled with biscuit packaging bags knocking against each other.
"Christmas has just passed," Rhein explained, taking a plate of biscuits from one of the workers. "Many of the workers live quite far away, so they haven't all returned yet."
"The current batch is for Mr. Russell's department stores. As he instructed, we can switch to your order at any time."
"As for payment, we'll settle everything directly with Mr. Russell."
Tver already knew that, so he only gave a distracted nod, as though his attention had been captured entirely by the biscuits.
The Weasley twins, however, brightened instantly.
They had been worried the professor might pull out magically conjured parchment and attempt to pay Rhein in some suspicious wizarding fashion.
"Professor, who exactly is Mr. Russell?" George asked curiously.
"Oh, he's from the Fawley family. An old friend," Tver replied casually. "Don't worry. He's a Squib. He can handle these matters."
"You're a professor?" Rhein blinked in confusion. "And what does 'Squib' mean?"
"That's just our nickname for Russell," Tver said offhandedly. "A nickname."
He smoothly changed the subject.
"These biscuits are all from your company?"
He gestured toward the plate. There were many varieties, three of each kind, all freshly baked custard biscuits. Even standing a short distance away, Tver could smell the rich aroma of butter and eggs.
What caught his attention was how identical each set of three looked. No extra creases, no uneven edges. Only machines could produce such uniform results.
At least Rhein hadn't tried to impress them with handmade biscuits.
"That's right," Rhein said quickly, sensing the shift in focus. He held the plate out to Tver and the twins.
"As requested, these are pure custard biscuits, no additives."
"If you'd like, we can also add dried fruit, jam, or other fillings."
"No, no. It has to be custard biscuits," George said immediately. "We've tested it. This gives the best results."
Rhein glanced at Tver for confirmation. Seeing him nod, he finally grasped the unusual dynamic between the three. Tver was clearly in charge, yet it was the two younger twins who had the specific product requirements.
So Rhein turned his attention to them.
"I'm not sure what you're testing, but go ahead and try them. I guarantee the flavor will meet your expectations."
When it came to business, the twins wasted no time. Each grabbed a biscuit, though they remembered to hand one to Tver first.
George took a bite and immediately commented, "This one's a bit too sweet."
Fred picked up another variety and tried it. "The egg flavor's too strong. People might not like that."
"Yeah. And this third one's a little too soft. It doesn't have enough crunch."
They stood there, casually eating someone else's biscuits and critiquing each batch as if they were professional tasters.
Tver shot Rhein an apologetic smile. If he didn't smooth things over, the man might well lose his temper.
Then he lightly tapped each twin on the head.
"The taste isn't the most important thing. Just pick one you can live with."
Rhein fell silent.
After being scolded, the Weasley twins finally realized they had grown a little too reckless with the professor present.
"Sorry. The biscuits are all delicious. They suit our tastes very well."
Rhein could not help thinking: Then why were you picking them apart just now?
He felt exhausted, but remembering Mr. Ian Russell's instructions, he pulled himself together and began explaining seriously.
"The flavors are intentionally designed this way. Each variety emphasizes something different because every client has specific preferences."
"If everything is perfectly balanced in a biscuit, it ends up ordinary. No distinctive character."
He spoke with obvious pride. Their small factory had caught Russell's attention precisely because of that distinctive flavor design.
"Exactly. We want the most ordinary biscuit possible," the twins said excitedly.
Rhein felt as if he had used up a lifetime's worth of silence in a single day.
Tver cleared his throat.
"What they mean is that we need a foundational biscuit. No special highlights, no unusual flavors. But in terms of texture, balance, and overall taste, it must be excellent in every aspect."
He picked up the last biscuit and added with a smile, "That's why we chose your factory. Russell told me you're the best biscuit manufacturer in Britain."
He took a bite.
"Mm. This last one is quite good. Let's go with this."
The twins did not find it exceptional, but since the professor approved and it was certainly not bad, they nodded.
Rhein finally let out a breath of relief.
"And the packaging? We cooperate with a packaging company. We can design and mass-produce boxes or bags for you at a favorable price."
If the biscuits were going directly to shops, the factory packaging would suffice. But Tver intended to modify the product and sell it under their own brand, so new packaging was necessary.
"You two decide," Tver said. "Though I suggest paper boxes. More convenient."
In truth, the wizarding world rarely used plastic products. For wizards, plastic felt too modern, and aside from destroying it outright, they had yet to develop suitable spells to handle it properly.
The deal settled, the twins' excitement quickly turned back into anxiety.
They exchanged an awkward smile with Rhein, then pulled Tver aside into a corner.
"Professor," George whispered nervously, "are we really not violating the Statute of Secrecy by doing business with Muggles?"
"Why are you still stuck on that?" Tver placed his hands on his hips, looking at them in exasperation.
"Let me ask you. Did we use magic to coerce a Muggle into doing business with us?"
George and Fred glanced discreetly at Rhein, who was standing calmly nearby.
"No," they said in unison.
"Did we use magic to forge Muggle currency for this transaction?"
"Er… no."
"Then tell me. Have we violated the Statute of Secrecy?"
The twins exchanged confused looks.
It felt odd, but no matter how they thought about it, they could not find a flaw in his logic.
So they shook their heads.
"Exactly." Tver gave them a reassuring smile.
"Relax. Cynthia works at the Ministry. Do you really think I don't understand the Statute of Secrecy?"
In fact, Tver had studied the Statute inside and out for his own reasons.
From even the most conservative legal standpoint, what they were doing was entirely lawful.
The only minor complication was that Russell had paid for this legitimate transaction using funds earned through less legitimate means.
Fortunately, the twins knew nothing about that.
Completely reassured, they hurried off with Rhein into the office to discuss packaging design.
As they put it, the box had to make people happy the moment they laid eyes on it.