Just as Puss had planned, that very same day, he sought out Humpty, not wanting to delay things.
"Hey, Humpty!" He called out to the egg, who was distracted in his workshop behind the playground.
On his head rested his golden hat, and in the corner, on a coat rack, his golden cape hung neatly.
Humpty, surprised, lifted his head, turned around, and saw Puss approaching—with his fine boots, hat, and sword—looking like a grand adventurer.
"Puss!" He shouted excitedly, getting up from his chair.
"Hum…" Puss simply nodded.
Humpty then scratched his head awkwardly at Puss's lukewarm attitude.
"Well, I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you left so quickly…" He said, looking at Puss, a little embarrassed, unsure of how to express himself.
Puss simply raised a "brow" in doubt.
"It's just… well, I wanted to say thank you… truly, for everything. If you had wanted to, you could have done everything alone, without me. And yet, I barely did anything, and you still gave me so much credit… I don't think I even deserve these things…" He started with gratitude but soon became doubtful about himself.
Puss looked at him seriously upon hearing that.
"What are you talking about, Humpty? You're a genius, and you have every right to receive recognition for your hard work. And if you still don't feel worthy, then keep working hard until you believe you are!" He said, stepping forward and giving the egg a pat on the arm.
"R-really, you think so?" Humpty looked at him, touched.
Puss felt like teasing him and saying "no!" but decided not to make the already complex egg even more complex.
"Sí." Puss nodded.
Humpty turned awkwardly away from Puss, raised his arms, and discreetly wiped his tears before turning back around, smiling.
"I'll do my best!" He said.
"Good. Now, Humpty, I need your help. This time it's something tedious, and it's only useful for me, so I can't ask you to do it for free. I need you to…"
Puss abruptly changed the subject to make his request.
Humpty was caught off guard, but upon hearing that he could be useful to Puss, he didn't hesitate and listened seriously.
But as he listened more and more, his expression became strange. This would definitely be a lot of work for him.
"…some kind of flamethrower would also be good for training. Well, that's basically it," Puss finished, his mouth dry from so much talking.
"T-this, Puss, is a bit much. I can try, but many of the things you asked for could take quite a while."
Humpty spoke with difficulty. Puss simply had too many demands.
"It doesn't matter. Just try. And as I said, my requirements are high and a lot of work—I don't want you working for free. Tell me what you want, and I'll try to help you," Puss said seriously.
"No need, Puss, you've already done so much for me. The least I can do is this for you." But Humpty shook his head, refusing. He already felt deeply indebted to Puss.
But the orange cat in question was not willing to let anyone work for free for him.
"Humpty, tell me if there's something you want, or I won't let you do this for me. We're friends, but I'm not asking for something easy or quick—in fact, it's time-consuming and troublesome. Just tell me what you want, so I can feel at peace using the things you made for me," Puss looked at him seriously and insisted.
Humpty felt powerless against Puss's insistence. He had always been like this—once he made a decision, he wouldn't back down. So, Humpty could only let out a bitter sigh.
Then, involuntarily, his eyes drifted toward his worktable.
"I-I… well, there is one thing…" Humpty said suddenly.
Puss was intrigued and looked at the table but didn't see anything unusual.
"Puss, I've always felt unworthy of the title of hero. The spring was your invention—I only provided some modifications to the carriage. But the spring itself, the special part, doesn't really have anything of mine in it… But of the things you gave me that day and said would make us rich, the second one was quite incomplete. So, half of me is in that project too… I wanted to…"
The more Humpty spoke, the more hesitant he became, but Puss had already understood what he meant.
He felt unworthy of the title of hero of the orphanage and the town because he hadn't helped design the spring that had earned him that title.
So, he wanted to help the orphanage and the town with something that truly had his mark on it.
Considering that Puss had told him that day that the two inventions he handed over would make them rich—and the first one really had—he hoped that the second one, the sewing machine, which he had contributed so much to, could create that miracle again.
If that happened, he wouldn't feel unworthy anymore. Instead, he would hold his head high and proudly accept the title of inventor hero.
The problem was that months had passed, and Humpty had never heard Puss mention the sewing machine.
What Humpty didn't know was that Puss only wanted to make a few coins with the spring, then invest in the machines and get rich. What Puss hadn't expected was that the springs would bring in more money than he could have ever imagined. He thought he would earn a handful of coins before everyone started copying them, leaving him with little profit.
Who would have thought that living in the medieval world of Shrek would come with benefits that supported originality?
With just the first invention, he became rich and helped the orphanage. With his goal achieved, he no longer worried about it and completely forgot about the sewing machine.
He didn't care much for excessive wealth—just enough to buy what he wanted. He also had no intention of leading any technological revolution or taking over the world; he simply wanted to be an adventurer.
But seeing that Humpty truly cared, he shrugged. After all, who would say no to more money?
"No need to say more, I understand. I'll make sure the sewing machines turn a profit. It's not too much trouble—I'll just throw everything onto the Comandante's cousin's shoulders. Besides, I already needed to speak with him to hire guards for the orphanage. I can't always be here to protect everyone," Puss said with a shrug.
"Wow! That's great, Puss, thank you so much! I won't let you down! Let me take the plans right now so the Comandante's cousin can start manufacturing and selling as soon as possible!"
Humpty said excitedly and was about to grab the plans and run off, but Puss was faster, firmly grabbing his arm to stop him.
"Huh? What are you doing, Puss?" He looked at Puss and asked, confused.
Puss could only look at Humpty, helplessly.
"Stopping you from making a mistake!" He said, rolling his feline eyes.
"What? Why?" Humpty was even more confused.
"The machine would bring in a little profit if we sold it, but not much, because the nobles don't care that much, and the commoners would make imitations. The real profit comes from using the machines to make clothes and selling the clothes..." Puss explained clearly, and Humpty slowly began to understand.
"…So, in short, we give jobs to the women of San Ricardo and the surrounding areas, improving their lives, and we teach them how to operate the sewing machines. We provide them with patterns to follow, and with the machines, the clothes will be made quickly, uniformly, and at a much lower cost. High-quality ones, made with good fabrics and good designs, can be sold to the nobles, while the simpler ones can be sold to the commoners at a price that doesn't devalue the poor artisans who take longer to produce by hand."
Puss explained a bit more before concluding.
"This way, only those who can afford it will buy, and those who can't will continue buying from where they always have. It's the best way to sell while affecting the fewest people, while also helping the women and the local economy."
He finished and looked at Humpty, who stood there, mouth agape.
"Wow, Puss! You're amazing! You're so young, but you think so deeply about things!" Humpty praised him sincerely, his eyes shining with admiration.
Puss just smiled at him and said nothing.
It wasn't like he was sure about what he was saying. He was just making educated guesses and crossing his fingers that it wouldn't harm the poorer communities. He wasn't looking to make a bigger profit by overpricing the lower-quality clothes—he just didn't want to hurt the artisans who depended on their craft to survive.