Chapter 52: Reputation Takes a Hit

Chapter 52: Reputation Takes a Hit

Madam Willis glanced at Dawn Dantes’s face and laughed, not minding at all.

“Your past—your experiences in Desi Bay and the Southern Continent—are more exciting than every novel I have read. They make one wish to experience the same things.”

Of course. This is adapted from a true story. Thanks to Anderson Hood, a hunter who is always running around everywhere…

As Klein shifted his gaze toward the small cream cake, he laughed softly and said, “That is because I have only told the interesting parts. There are still many things within them that I do not wish to recall.”

He said only that brief sentence, then began enjoying dessert. But after hearing those words, Madam Willis and the other ladies inexplicably thought of the title of a bestselling novel: A Man with a Story.

In their eyes, Dawn Dantes was precisely such a person. On the surface, he was like a tranquil lake, but in truth, one could not see its depths. It hid many surprises, and buried no small amount of pain.

At 9:40, the dinner ended. Some gentlemen and ladies went together to the card room, preparing to play two hours of Texas hold’em. The remaining men headed toward the sitting room, intending to chat for a while. This did not forbid young ladies or married women from joining, but because there were many smokers and off-color topics were difficult to avoid, no ladies participated. Instead, they either went down to the first floor, gathered around the piano, listened to volunteers perform, and sang softly along, or formed groups of two or three to play chess and other games.

Klein chose to go to the second-floor sitting room. A smaller private conversation would help him be accepted into this circle sooner.

After entering, he observed the environment, went straight to the window, opened it, and pulled over a nearby high-backed chair to sit down.

Klein had just completed this series of actions when Portland Moment, the host of tonight’s dinner, laughed loudly while holding his pipe.

“Men always need a little space of their own.”

He was a loud-voiced old man with a tall build and a ruddy face, around sixty years old. His hair was still fairly thick, though already entirely white, and his features were very typical of an ordinary Loen man, without any particular distinction.

“Yes. When the ladies are present, we must care about our image and consider their feelings. I wanted to kiss it an hour ago,” Councilman Macht, Hazel’s father, said, taking out an ornate silver metal case and drawing a cigarette from it.

The other men who had entered the sitting room did the same. Pipes or cigarettes appeared in their hands like magic tricks.

Amid flickering flames, wisps of smoke curled outward, giving the room the feeling that yesterday’s smog had not yet dispersed.

After enjoying it with eyes closed for several seconds, Portland Moment turned toward the guest beside the window and asked, “Dawn, you don’t smoke?”

Klein clenched his fist and pressed it to his mouth, coughing twice.

“I have not yet recovered. The doctor instructed me not to smoke recently.”

To be honest, he was already about to choke. Fortunately, he had cleverly chosen the seat by the window.

These heavy smokers…

Klein bent the index finger of his right hand and rubbed it beneath his nostrils.

He badly wanted to use a Magician’s Beyonder ability to create an invisible air tube that extended outside, bringing in fresh air and freeing him from the harm of secondhand smoke. But considering that one of the gentlemen present might be a Beyonder, he rationally abandoned the idea.

Hearing his answer, Portland Moment laughed heartily.

“I heard from Bishop Elektra that there is a reason you fell ill, Dawn. You lack a wife!”

The full professor himself was a believer of the God of Steam and Machinery, but his wife believed in the Evernight Goddess. That was why the family had settled on Böklund Street near Saint Samuel Cathedral, where bishops often came to visit…