Chapter 6: A Rich Man’s Daily Life

Chapter 6: A Rich Man’s Daily Life

“Then please wait a moment. Would you like coffee, or black tea?” Beline asked warmly.

Klein smiled.

“When I was young, I liked coffee. I liked that strong aroma. But now, I am better able to accept black tea.”

“I prefer black tea as well. Then… a cup of Marquis black tea?” Beline suggested with a smile.

The coffee and black tea used to serve guests at the Metropolitan Helping Household Servants Association were both of ordinary quality, below average. The Marquis black tea was something Beline had brought from home for her own enjoyment.

Klein was not someone without experience, and he was skilled at observation. After entering earlier, he had quietly taken in all the details of the surrounding environment and noticed that the coffee and black tea tins in the display cabinet were very ordinary. He believed the quality of the contents was certainly not high. Therefore, in his view, Marquis black tea either belonged to the Association’s private collection, used for important guests, or was privately owned by the lady before him. Either way, it demonstrated her goodwill.

He did not expose it and smiled.

“Thank you. Your suggestion is impossible for me to refuse.

“May I ask how I should address you, madam?”

“Beline. Just call me Beline.” Beline’s smile blossomed like a flower.

She immediately walked lightly into the inner room, asked the colleague truly responsible for the records to select suitable candidates, then returned to the reception desk. Picking up a silver-inlaid tin, she skillfully brewed the black tea.

Ah. A pleasing face, decent temperament, and clothing that reflects status—even if one is already middle-aged, one can still feel the goodwill of a pretty young woman… Experiencing something like this for the first time, Klein could not help sighing inwardly.

This made him understand all the more deeply the importance of the Faceless rule: “One can only be oneself.”

If he did not remember this point firmly and became intoxicated with the advantages brought by his appearance, he would keep maintaining the corresponding look, forget or even reject his past self, and gradually lose himself.

Very soon, Beline brought over a white porcelain cup with gilt trim and set it before Mr. Dwayne Dantès. Smiling faintly, she said, “It still needs to cool a little.”

Klein lowered his head and looked at the cup, half-jokingly saying, “That gives me just enough time to adjust my mood, so I may treat this cup of black tea with proper ceremony.”

The implied compliment and gratitude made Beline’s mood grow even better. She felt Mr. Dantès was a true gentleman—and one very good with words.

He definitely is not a believer of the Lord of Storms… Beline smoothed her slightly curled brown hair and took the initiative to return to the inner room, urging her colleague.

Before long, she returned with a stack of documents. Sitting on the single sofa nearby, she said, “After screening, there are three suitable butlers here. I will give you a rough introduction first.

“The first is Mr. Asnia, age fifty-five. He once served Viscount Yorkville. Later, because the viscount’s investment in mineral exploration failed, his family finances fell into crisis. He had no choice but to sell land and estates and dismiss large numbers of servants, which led to Mr. Asnia’s departure. Over the past ten years, Mr. Asnia has been employed by two wealthy men in succession and has made outstanding contributions to the management of their households.”

As she spoke, Beline’s brown eyes shone as though hiding two stars, carrying the vitality unique to a young woman.

Klein gently nodded.

“Then why did he leave those two wealthy men?”

Beline smiled and answered, “The first wealthy man made major investments in East Balam and moved his entire family there. Mr. Asnia did not wish to leave Backlund, so he voluntarily resigned. The second wealthy man’s health was not very good, so he handed all household affairs to his children, and that gentleman had a butler he trusted more.

“Mr. Asnia is a believer of the Evernight Goddess. His political leaning is more toward the Conservative Party. His required annual salary is 130 pounds.”

“May the Goddess bless him.” Klein tapped four times clockwise on his chest, drawing a crimson moon.

Beline’s eyes brightened.

“Mr. Dantès, you are also a believer of the Goddess?”

“Of course,” Klein said with a smile and a nod, offering no further explanation.

No wonder he is so gentle! Beline praised him inwardly and continued, “Mr. Riback, forty-eight years old. He once served the Negan family and long held the positions of deputy butler and butler’s assistant. Later, through a transaction, he became Baron Syndras’s butler.

“Not long after Duke Negan was assassinated, Mr. Riback’s term of service expired, and he did not receive a new contract from the baron. He had no choice but to seek help from our Association.

“He is a lukewarm believer of the Lord of Storms, but there is no problem with his temperament. His political leaning is also toward the Conservative Party. His required salary is 120 pounds.”

Klein listened quietly, nodding in agreement from time to time without interrupting Beline’s explanation.

Beline flipped through the papers and, after glancing over them, spoke again.

“The third is Mr. Walter, age forty-two. He once served as estate steward and butler’s assistant in Viscount Conrad’s household. Because of certain matters, he had a conflict with the butler and chose to leave of his own accord. He asks for an annual salary of 115 pounds.

“He is a believer of the Evernight Goddess, and his political leaning is the New Party.”

The new Governor-General of Olavi Island is a member of Viscount Conrad’s family. That family is a loyal supporter of the royal family… Corresponding information flashed quickly through Klein’s mind.

After finishing the introductions, Beline handed over the stack of documents.

“Mr. Dantès, whom would you like to choose?”

Klein pondered for a few seconds, then said with a smile, “How about this: have the three of them come to my residence tomorrow morning at nine. I will meet them, talk with them, and make my final decision afterward.”

He knew that associations like this did not provide lodging and were purely intermediaries. Even if he decided on a candidate now, he would still have to wait until the afternoon or the next day to meet his butler. Therefore, it would be better to arrange a small interview and choose the one most suited to his intentions.

“No problem.” Beline smiled faintly. “Your address is?”

Klein took a sip of black tea, picked up the paper and pen on the table, and wrote down the location and name of his current hotel.

“You… just came to Backlund?” Beline glanced at it and blurted out the question.

Only at that moment did she discover that Mr. Dwayne Dantès’s skin was slightly darker than normal, leaning faintly toward bronze, as though from prolonged exposure to the sun. It carried a somewhat rough flavor.

Mm. His accent isn’t Backlund’s either… Beline gradually remembered more details.

Klein smiled.

“I came from Desi Bay, and I’m waiting for an excellent butler to help me find a suitable house and servants.”

After paying the three-pound deposit, he politely took another sip of black tea and rose to take his leave.

Beline escorted him all the way outside and watched as he boarded a carriage.

Mr. Dantès seems to be a wealthy man too… More importantly, his bearing and gentlemanly style are even more charming… Beline stood in place, thinking casually.

Inside the carriage, Klein half-closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, unable to stop himself from calculating his upcoming expenses:

“A butler, around 120 pounds. A personal valet, taking the midpoint, 35 pounds. A cook, 30 pounds. A gardener, 25 pounds. A coachman, 25 pounds. A household nurse, 20 pounds. Three ordinary maids, 15 pounds each. Three maid-of-all-work types, 10 pounds each. In that case, servant expenses alone will be 330 pounds a year, roughly equal to 6 pounds 7 soli per week. That exceeds my weekly salary back in Tingen City.

“And on top of that, I need a carriage, around 100 pounds. A garden house, probably another 2 pounds a week in rent. Add in food, clothes, charcoal, and other expenses for such a large group of people, and the total becomes simply exaggerated.

“So this is the daily life of a wealthy man…”

Klein suddenly felt a little regret over creating such a persona.

He let out a breath and tried hard to throw the matter to the back of his mind. Riding the carriage, he arrived at Pessfield Street in the North Borough.

There stood a pitch-black cathedral, with a clock tower on each side, presenting a symmetrical beauty. It was Saint Samuel Cathedral, the headquarters of the Backlund diocese of the Evernight Goddess Church.

Klein adjusted the handkerchief in his left pocket, held his gold-inlaid cane, and stepped into the cathedral. Passing through a quiet corridor, beneath sunlight that pierced the stained glass high above, he arrived at the main prayer hall.

The place was rather dim, making one’s heart become peaceful of its own accord. Klein casually found a seat, leaned his cane beside him, removed his hat, and began praying with complete concentration.

Time passed minute by minute. After listening to the sermon, he slowly rose and walked toward the altar. He bowed to the bishop with very short black hair, then came to the offering box beside him.

Silently exhaling, Klein took out two ten-pound notes and six five-pound notes, placing them in one after another.

The bishop swept the scene with the corner of his eye, and his expression involuntarily softened somewhat.

Normally speaking, unless the Church visited people to request donations or received bequests after death, the large sums that a cathedral’s offering box could receive were only in the tens of pounds.

This meant that the other party was a wealthy man. A rich person!