Fantasy Writers 1860

Dorian: ?

Why did things suddenly turn into a rush to finish the manuscript?

"I'm writing, I'm writing." Dorian gave a perfunctory reply to Clancy's question.

Seeing this bustling scene of moving, Dorian couldn't help but have some additional thoughts:

Shouldn't I also improve my living environment?

Dorian thought to himself that he was no longer penniless like when he first transmigrated.

Now, not only do I receive royalties, but I've also found a job as a civil servant in the empire. Continuing to live in that cheap rental housing without even a toilet would not only be unfair to myself, but also rather undignified.

Furthermore, although theoretically no one should know that Blackwood's death was related to him, it would be better to lay low for a while at this time.

After a brief moment of thought, Dorian also prepared to move.

If he were to move, he certainly wouldn't be carrying large bags and boxes like the newspaper office was moving. His low-rent apartment was truly bare, and he didn't have much luggage to pack. He could just go back and tell Mrs. Michel, stuff the cash hidden under the bed, and leave.

"Where is your new address? I'll write it down so I can mail the manuscripts later," Dorian said.

"114 West Lambeth Riverside Plaza, Tannhäuser District," Clancy gave an address.

They actually moved here? Not only did he escape poverty, but his newspaper also got upgraded thanks to his efforts?

For a moment, Dorian felt like he was playing a simulation game.

A "training system" newspaper?

"Tanhäuser District? Looks like you've really made a lot of money. Are you going to switch to publishing a newspaper for the rich from now on?" Dorian remarked.

"No, although the address has changed, our 'Lentinion Weekly' has always been rooted in the vast common people of the East District."

"Um, I'm also planning to move. Do you have any good recommendations?"

……

Although Dorian now has a little spare money, it's not enough to directly upgrade his mansion. Based on Editor Clancy's recommendations, Dorian still prefers more affordable apartments.

Most importantly, it needs to be far enough away from the Sheffield district.

As he pondered his requirements for the new house, he walked toward Kraken Housing Rental Company.

This is a reliable real estate agency recommended by Clancy, mainly introducing apartment rentals.

"Welcome to Kraken Home Rental Company." The receptionist was looking down at her newspaper when she heard someone come in. She only glanced up briefly and gave a perfunctory welcome.

He then continued to read the newspaper with his eyes lowered, showing no sign of getting up to greet him.

Dorian stood in front of the notice board for a while, but didn't see a house he liked. He also noticed that no one came to him to sell their property.

This doesn't make sense, does it?

"Hello, besides the ones listed on the notice board, are there any other houses available?" Dorian asked the clerk at the front desk.

"Yes," a concise reply came from behind the newspaper at the front desk, "but none of them are places you can afford. If you're just bored and came in to take a look, please leave now. If our boss were here, he wouldn't be speaking to you so politely."

Despite the undisguised contempt in the shop assistant's words, he still felt he had been very polite.

Normally, if he saw such a poor person come in, he would just grab his cane and chase him away. But today, he allowed him to come in and stay for a while.

Because this shop assistant had read a novel called "The Million Pound Stamp" a few days ago, he has gradually become a little more tolerant of those who look poor.

Who knows if they have a million-pound note in their pocket?

Although he knew it was just a plot in a novel, and that in reality the Bank of Britannia had never issued such large banknotes, nor would any wealthy person pretend to be a pauper in his shop.

However, "The Million Pound Stamp" still brought a sliver of unrealistic fantasy to his monotonous daily life. This kind of fantasy was something that the stories of emperors, generals, scholars, and beauties in the newspapers of the past could not provide him.

What if?

"Well, actually I..." Before Dorian could finish speaking, a small door next to the innermost notice board suddenly opened, and a middle-aged man who was overweight and somewhat balding walked out.

"My goddess, what are you doing, Theo? You're actually chatting with a homeless man? Didn't I tell you to chase people like that away immediately?" The middle-aged man slammed his cane on the floor a few times.

"Sir, I'm not homeless. I'm here looking for a place to rent. I just..."

"Get out of here! Don't ruin our shop's reputation! If people see that even homeless people are looking for houses here, they'll really think we're going out of business!" The middle-aged man rudely interrupted Dorian before he could finish speaking.

"Get out of here! Or I'll call the police, and you'll be heading to a shelter!"

He strode over aggressively, his cane slightly raised, as if he were about to use it to drive Dorian away.

Dorian: ?

No, can't I even finish a sentence?

Left with no other choice, Dorian had to pull a gun from his coat pocket...

A one-pound note.

The middle-aged man's cane, which he had been raising high, fell to the ground instantly, and the angry and ferocious look on his face vanished in an instant, his eyes becoming clear again.

"Sir, what are your requirements for housing?" He put on a bright, business-like smile.

He wasn't embarrassed at all, as if nothing had happened, as if he had come out of the house specifically to greet me.

Dorian couldn't hold back any longer. He could have predicted that the other party would change his expression, but he didn't expect that the other party would become so smooth and shameless.

As the saying goes, if you're not embarrassed, then it's others who are embarrassed. He wasn't embarrassed at all, but Dorian felt very embarrassed.

Theo, who was sitting at the front desk, couldn't help but put down his newspaper and stare wide-eyed at everything that was happening in front of him.

Holy crap, did the plot from the novel really come true?

This guy is definitely not poor!

Why is he dressed like this?

Could he really be a wealthy man with an eccentric personality, just like the restaurant owner in the novel described?

He could easily pull out more than ten gold pounds. Although he wasn't a millionaire, he was still considered a middle-class person with some wealth, which was the main clientele he usually served.

Although it was far less exaggerated than in the novel, those few minutes were still the most dramatic moment in his more than ten years of work.

Luckily, I didn't kick him out right away, otherwise I would be the one in an embarrassing situation now.

He doesn't have the same thick skin as his boss.

"I'm sorry, but your attitude of judging people by their appearance is unacceptable to me. Goodbye." Dorian's face darkened, and he turned and left.