At half past seven in the evening, at the Moretti family's dining table.
"Klein, why do you, as a consultant, need to be early as well? Are the emergency matters of the security company relatively dangerous?" Benson asked, cutting a piece of potato from the potato-stewed beef, implicitly expressing concern about the morning events.
Klein carefully spat out a bone from the pan-fried fish, prepared for this question, and replied:
"A batch of historical documents that need to be immediately transferred to Backlund, so I had to be present to count and confirm there were no omissions. You know, those guys who only know how to swing their fists don't recognize ancient Feysac at all."
Hearing his answer, Benson, after chewing and swallowing the food in his mouth, couldn't help but sigh:
"Knowledge really is important."
Seizing the opportunity, Klein took out the remaining 5-pound note and handed it to Benson:
"This is the extra pay I got today. You also need a decent set of clothes."
"5 pounds?" Benson and Melissa exclaimed simultaneously.
He picked up the note, looked at it over and over, and half-surprised, half-puzzled, said:
"This security company is really generous..."
His weekly salary was 1 pound 10 soles, and four weeks exactly 6 pounds, just 1 pound more than this extra pay!
And with that salary, he had supported his younger siblings, given them a decent place to live, enabled them to eat meat two or three times a week, and get a few new clothes each year!
"Don't you doubt what I said?" Klein deliberately asked back.
Benson gave a low laugh: "I think you don't have the ability or the guts to rob a bank."
"You are not a person who lies," Melissa stopped her utensils and answered seriously.
I... I am now a person accustomed to lying... Klein suddenly felt a bit ashamed.
Although it was forced by reality, his sister's trust still left him wistful.
"The matter today was urgent and important, and I played a crucial role in it... that's why it was worth 5 pounds," Klein explained briefly.
In a certain sense, everything he said was true.
As for the upcoming 5 pounds of funds—the amount he had previously prepared to use to join the divination club—he planned to keep it secret. First, bringing home another 5 pounds would really scare his brother and sister, making them suspect he was engaged in something illegal. Second, he needed to save money to buy additional materials for his Diviner's studies and mastery of mystical knowledge.
Benson contentedly tore off a bite of oatmeal bread, thought for a dozen seconds, and said:
"My current job doesn't require such decent clothes; well, to be precise, clothes made from cloth that's too nice. The ones at home are enough."
Before Klein could dissuade him, he volunteered:
"With this extra income, we can actually start saving. I plan to buy a few more accounting books to study deeper. Klein, Melissa, I don't want to still be earning less than 2 pounds a week in five years. Hah, you know what? My boss and my manager both have shit for brains; everything that comes out of their mouths stinks."
"Excellent idea," Klein agreed, and took the opportunity to guide him, "Why not take a look at the grammar books in my room? To become truly respectable and to obtain ample rewards, that is a quite crucial factor."
Perhaps, before long, the civil service examination would appear in the Loën Kingdom, and being prepared in advance could be quite an advantage...
Benson's eyes lit up at this:
"I really had forgotten about that. Come, let's toast to a bright future."
He didn't drink rye beer, but poured oyster soup into three cups and gently clinked those with his brother and sister.
After finishing the soup, Klein looked at his sister, who was still wrestling with the pan-fried fish, and said with a low laugh:
"Besides Benson's books, I think Melissa also needs a new dress."
Melissa raised her head and shook it repeatedly:
"No, I think it's best to..."
"Save it," Klein finished for her.
"Mm," Melissa nodded heavily.
"Actually, if we don't go for high-quality fabric or the latest design, it won't be too expensive. The rest we can save," Klein said in a tone that brooked no refusal.
Benson also chimed in:
"Melissa, do you want to wear the same old dress to Selena's sixteenth birthday party?"
Selena Wood was Melissa's classmate and good friend. Her family was fairly well-off: her brother was a solicitor, and her father was a senior clerk at the Backlund Bank's Tingen branch.
However, their so-called party was just inviting friends over for dinner, chatting, and playing cards.
"All right," Melissa lowered her head, muttered in reply, and then stabbed a piece of stewed beef fiercely.
After a moment of silence, she suddenly remembered something and hurriedly raised her head to say:
"Mrs. Shawd next door sent a card via her maid, hoping to make a semi-formal visit on Sunday afternoon—that's tomorrow at 4 p.m.—to get to know their new neighbors."
"Mrs. Shawd?" Klein looked at his brother and sister in complete bewilderment.
Benson tapped the edge of the table with his fingers and said thoughtfully:
"Mrs. Shawd from 4 Narcissus Street? I've met her husband; he is a senior solicitor."
"A senior solicitor... Maybe he knows Selena's brother," Melissa said with a hint of delight.
We are No. 2 Narcissus Street... Klein nodded slightly.