Chapter 116: Encountering a Fellow Professional

Chapter 116 Meeting Fellow Traders

Alfred drove with great excitement. He truly wanted to dash home right now, find the family cat and dog, and bring them over to conduct an experiment.

No, not an experiment, just a routine procedure, a mere formality.

He needed to prove his loyalty to the young master.

He had to demonstrate to those two pets exactly who possessed the true merit to stand in the second row with a smile on their face!

However, this burning impatience had to be temporarily suppressed for the moment, because he could not head straight home just yet; the young master needed to buy some clothes.

Yet to Alfred's slight surprise, the young master did not choose to buy from the apparel shops in the city center. Instead, he first instructed Alfred to drive toward the Blue Bridge community, and just as they nearly cleared the boundaries of the downtown area, directed him to turn toward the west. Here lay a clothing center comprised of rows of small stalls. The crowds were thick, catering mostly to the working class.

Whether the quality was good was hard to say, but the prices were certainly cheap.

"I remember passing by here the day I took Alaye's carriage."

"Young master, do you really need to buy clothes here?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, buying clothes here is convenient."

Alfred could only follow his young master as they walked inside.

Karen did not bother picking and choosing a shop, but walked directly into one near the entrance. Peering through the display window, one could see that the apparel inside was quite varied, with menswear as the main feature.

"Please come in."

Seeing someone approach, a woman proactively opened the door. To Karen's slight astonishment, she had a head of purple hair.

Wien had historically seen a rise in the slave trade, absorbing a large number of slaves to provide sufficient labor for Wien's industrialization. Even now, the number of illegal immigrants entering each year was considerable, and they generally possessed purple hair.

The last time Karen disembarked at York Port, he had seen a great number of malnourished, purple-haired laborers working at the docks.

They were generally unable to obtain citizenship and belonged to the unregistered population. Not only was their social status low, but they also suffered severe racial discrimination.

Even if this woman merely ran a small clothing shop here, within her community, she was already considered to have fared exceptionally well.

The woman wore a gray sweater and black trousers below—a very conservative outfit. Yet because she possessed a voluptuous figure, even loose clothes worn on her body would still emphasize the inherent rounded curves of her shape with the slightest movement.

Her face was not fair and delicate, bearing the marks of wind and frost; her age was likely in her thirties, but her voice was somewhat raspy. The backs of her hands showed clear signs of past cracking. Even though they had healed by now, deep, unhealable fissures still remained—a token of the hardships she had once endured.

"Help me select two outfits. Casual, as long as they fit."

"Right away, handsome sir."

The female proprietor immediately picked up a clothing pole to choose from the garments hanging high up, but Karen stopped her.

"No need for anything bright. Plain colors, thank you."

"Oh?" The female proprietor looked at Karen with a hint of curiosity.

"A color similar to what you are wearing will do," Karen added.

"Very well, very well."

The female proprietor quickly selected two sets. One pair of trousers was brown and the other blue, both casual styles. One top was a gray sweater identical to her own, while the other was a white turtleneck knit shirt.

"Is there a fitting room?"

"Yes, yes, right inside. Please follow me."

Karen followed the female proprietor into the back room. In the back room lay a bed, upon which reposed a paralyzed man. Judging by his skin tone and hair color, he appeared to be a native of Wien. Beside him was a mixed-race little girl, sitting on a blanket and playing with her toys by herself.

One way for immigrants to obtain citizenship was to marry a local, acquiring citizenship through marriage.

The fitting room was located in a partitioned small space, inside of which was a mirror and another bed.

"Shall I help you try them on?" the female proprietor said, stretching out her hand to proactively help Karen undress.

"Please step outside, thank you."

"Oh, all right."

The female proprietor backed out.

Karen tried on the clothes by himself. The outfits fit quite well; worn on his body, they still made him look very handsome, yet that sharp, exquisite aura was gone, or rather, it was no longer as heavy.

Coming here to buy clothes was truly not because Karen deliberately wanted to help Piaget save money, but rather because when facing clients, during the process of your communication with them, their gaze would naturally fixate on your clothes and your shoes.

At such a moment, if they could discover that your clothes were very ordinary, or even downright cheap, their hearts would experience a sense of relief, and they would not harbor such a strong resistance.

If you sat before a client to communicate dressed entirely in designer brands and looking incomparably refined, it was very easy to inflict an invisible pressure upon the client, which was detrimental to discussing their condition.

Furthermore, considering the location and standard of Piaget’s clinic, as well as the demographic willing to spend money to see someone for so-called psychological issues in this money-worshiping era, seeing that what you wore was less expensive than what they wore allowed them to relax, to feel comfortable, and to remain composed.

Of course, one could not take it to a ridiculous extreme and go to work dressed like a beggar.

Having finished the fitting, Karen changed back into his own clothes. When he walked out, that paralyzed man had already turned toward the wall and fallen asleep.

The little girl who had been playing with toys on the floor was just peeling open a piece of soft candy and putting it into her mouth. Seeing Karen walk out, she smiled merrily and proactively walked over, holding up a piece of soft candy and offering it to Karen.

"Brother, have a candy."

"Thank you."

Karen accepted the soft candy and walked out of the inner room. The female proprietor proactively came forward to greet him, and Karen asked:

"How much?"

"Let me calculate." The female proprietor began to compute, her gaze shifting repeatedly between Karen and Alfred behind him during her calculations. She said, "A total of 1241 Reals. I will give you a discount, how about 1200 Reals?"

Karen smiled and said, "Too expensive."

"It really isn't expensive. Look at this material, it is all good material."

"I don't want them anymore."

Karen turned around, pushed open the door, and prepared to leave. Alfred followed suit, turning to walk out.

"Hey, hey, hey... don't leave!" The female proprietor reached out and grabbed Karen. "Name a price. As long as I don't lose money, I'll sell."

"120 Reals," Karen said.

"That's a loss," the female proprietor pleaded, while her hand still gripped Karen's hand and shook it. Her hand was very rough, bearing a slight abrasive texture that gave Karen a faint, stinging sensation.

"Then forget it."

"Add a little more, just a little more."

"Can't add any more. If you can't sell, I am leaving."

The female proprietor gritted her teeth and stamped her foot, saying:

"Alright, consider it making a friend out of you. Deal!"

Karen gestured for Alfred to pay. Ever since having Mr. Fred by his side, Karen no longer kept money in his own pockets. In addition, that savings of his was also kept with Fred, and he had no worries about Fred being greedy.

Alfred pulled out his wallet but did not rush to pay. Instead, he said to Karen, "Young master, should I buy two sets as well?"

Karen glanced at Alfred. This fellow, who had always paid meticulous attention to the refinement of his own dress sense, was almost never seen without his suit. Back in Loga City, he had wished nothing more than to change outfits several times a day to correspond to the morning sun, the evening twilight, and the stars of the deep night.

"You don't need to. I require it for work."

"No, no, no, I think it is still necessary." Saying this, Alfred pointed to the clothes held in the female proprietor's hands. "Wrap these up first, and then take down that one, that one, and that one. I will try them on."

"Very well, very well."

"Young master, I will go inside to try them on as well."

"Mm."

Karen was sorely tempted to decline, thinking to himself: you're a fellow who doesn't even blink when buying clothes that cost thousands or even tens of thousands of lubes a piece, yet now you need to step into a fitting room just to buy something worth a few dozen?

Yet he loathed to dampen Alfred’s spirits; from the moment they left Luojia City until their arrival in Wien, Alfred had been tirelessly giving and helping him, and Karen could not bring himself to rob the man of his greatest current joy.

"Please, have a seat." The proprietress brought over a stool for Karen.

"Thank you."

Karen took a seat upon the stool.

"You don't look like the sort of person who would buy clothes here," the proprietress struck up a conversation, her manner warm and hospitable.

Karen smiled faintly. "My family went bankrupt."

"Oh..." The proprietress was momentarily struck dumb, but she swiftly pivoted to another topic. "Are you married?"

"No."

"I know a suitable girl I could introduce to you. Would you like to take a look? A very beautiful, very clean girl, skilled at housework and terribly industrious."

Karen surmised that the proprietress must moonlight as a matchmaker on the side, though her brand of "matchmaking" seemed rather implied to involve the bartering of citizenship status.

"I have a fiancée," Karen replied.

"Oh, then what about him?" The proprietress pointed toward the back.

"He is married," Karen said.

"Oh, what a pity."

Karen assumed the proprietress would let the matter rest there, but to his surprise, she pressed on:

"You said your family went bankrupt?"

"Mm."

"Then will your fiancée look down on you and refuse to stay with you?"

Karen’s brow furrowed slightly; why had he been unable to escape this particular cliché of late?

Seeing Karen frown, the proprietress mistakenly assumed she had struck a nerve and rushed to add:

"I know several girls of the right age around here whom you could choose from. They are quite willing to endure hardships alongside you."

"There's no need," Karen said with a wave of his hand.

"Why must you cling to illusions of unrealistic love? You are only deceiving yourself, unable to break free."

"..." Karen was speechless.

"Look at my husband here. He married me, and not only did I bear him a daughter, but even after he became paralyzed, I have never abandoned him and have looked after him all this time. That is what a responsible wife does, is it not?"

"You are indeed very responsible," Karen remarked, "but I truly have no need for it, thank you."

Just then, a young girl approached carrying a large crate, and the proprietress immediately opened the door to welcome her inside.

"Auntie Michelle, here is today's yarn," the girl said, setting the crate upon the floor.

The girl was not old, likely around sixteen or so; her clothes were somewhat threadbare yet impeccably clean, and though her skin was slightly tanned, she exuded a remarkably brisk and refreshing air.

"Look here."

The proprietress took the girl by the hand, presenting her to Karen.

The girl was quite poised; though caught somewhat off guard by being pulled along, she nevertheless offered a natural bow to Karen:

"Hello, sir."

"Hello," Karen nodded to her.

"Her name is Xili. She's a very industrious and down-to-earth girl. Take a look at her hips too..."

"Smack!"

"Would you like to feel? With a build like this, bearing children will absolutely be no issue."

"Auntie Michelle!" The girl flushed with embarrassment.

"Stand straight! If you don't seize the opportunity, do you truly wish to be married off by your parents to that fifty-year-old cripple just to secure a school placement for your younger brother?"

Karen could only throw up his hands, speaking with utmost sincerity:

"Mrs. Michelle, I believe you have truly misunderstood. My fiancée and I share a very deep affection, and my wife's family intends to fund me so I may start anew."

Alfred, just how long are you going to take trying on those clothes!

Hearing this, the proprietress let out a rather helpless sigh.

"I am certain your fiancée must be exceedingly beautiful and moving, for you are very handsome yourself," Xili said to Karen with a smile. "Your fiancée must suit you perfectly."

"Thank you," Karen smiled back at her. "You are very beautiful too."

At long last, Alfred emerged from the inner room:

"How much for these two suits?"

The proprietress hesitated for a moment before naming her price: "One hundred and fifty Reals."

"That won't do. How could what I buy cost more than the young master's?"

"Enough." Karen stood up. "Let us settle the bill."

Mrs. Michelle spoke up immediately: "Two hundred and seventy Reals in total."

"Take three hundred," Karen said. "Keep the change to buy some sweets for the child."

"Thank you very much."

With the bill settled, Alfred carried the clothes and accompanied Karen back to where the car was parked. After placing the garments into the backseat, Alfred slid into the driver's seat and ignited the engine:

"Young master, our household stands in need of hiring a maid."

"Oh?"

"Ordinarily, I must accompany you out, young master, to ensure your safety. Though there is still a cat and a dog at home, we can hardly expect them to sweep and clean, can we?

Even when it comes to cooking, you cannot possibly prepare every single meal yourself, young master; it is fine to do so when the whim strikes you, but you must begin work tomorrow, after all."

"Very well, you see to the arrangements."

"It will be fine once Alaye returns. When the time comes, I shall have him accompany me to purchase the vehicle first, and then have him assist me in finding a maid.

Now I see just how wise it was of you to invite Alaye’s family to dinner, young master. When settling into a new place, one invariably requires an Alaye."

"Mm."

Karen closed his eyes, intending to steal a brief nap.

His base salary now stood at ten thousand Reals, and barred any unforeseen circumstances, his performance bonuses should not fall below that figure; such an income was more than sufficient to maintain a highly respectable lifestyle.

After all, he did not have to service the mortgage himself.

Yet the moment this thought surfaced, a pang of guilt stirred within Karen's breast; on second thought, however, the mortgage price for the house he had purchased was less than half of what had been anticipated, which ought to significantly alleviate the pressure on his uncle and aunt.

Given the revenue of the Inmoles Funeral Parlor, it should pose no great difficulty; it was not as though Uncle Mason would be forced to carry sacks down at the docks just to pay off the loan for him.

With this thought settled, Karen’s heart instantly cleared.

"Beep... beep... beep..."

A vehicle was blocking the road ahead, prompting Alfred to honk his horn in annoyance, but the car in front remained stubbornly still.

"Huh, look, Young Master, is that a hearse ahead?"

Karen, who had been half-asleep, opened his eyes and realized that the vehicle obstructing them did look remarkably like a modified hearse.

Beside the car, two scrawny attendants were struggling with a gurney, unable to push it up despite the ramp having been lowered from the back of the hearse.

"Let's go down and give them a hand."

Karen unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed the door open, and stepped out, a faint smirk tugging at his lips the moment the door clicked shut; was he just acting out of professional habit?

Approaching the vehicle, Karen noticed that the "guest" lying on the gurney possessed a massive physique—tall and considerably heavy—so much so that even beneath the white sheet, a prominent, round bulge of a belly rose sharply in the center.

This was exactly the kind of guest a crematorium owner loved, but a mortician despised.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, we'll move the car right away," a red-haired young man apologized to Karen, assuming he had come over because they were blocking the road.

"Pick, put some muscle into it."

"Alright, Dincomb!"

"Come on, together now, one, two, three!"

The two slender attendants strained once more, yet the "guest" still refused to budge.

Karen spoke up to guide them: "Have one person pull from inside first, and pay attention to the angle of the gurney's wheels." He then waved over to Alfred, "Go up and pull from the inside."

"Yes, Young Master."

Alfred leaped into the hearse and gripped the upper end of the gurney.

"Heave from the bottom, you two. I'll secure the 'guest' so he doesn't slide back. On my mark, come on, push!"

"Clang!"

At last, the gurney was successfully rolled inside, a triumph largely due to Alfred's sheer physical strength; after all, seeing how efficiently Alfred worked back then had once made Uncle Mason contemplate firing Ron.

"Thank you, sir, truly, thank you so much." The red-haired Dincomb pulled out a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes, selected the most intact one, and offered it to Karen.

"No need for thanks," Karen smiled, "I don't smoke."

Alfred declined as well: "I don't smoke either."

Pick had already started the hearse, pulled it to the side of the road, and then climbed back out carrying several bottles of soda.

"If you don't smoke, have a soda."

"Thank you." Karen accepted the soda and took a sip, "Ah, tart lemon flavor."

Alfred took a bottle too, but just as he was about to head back to start their car and leave, Pick called out rather sheepishly:

"Um, I need to keep the bottles to get my deposit back."

"Haha, alright."

And so, the four men sat down together on the stone curbside blocks, sipping their sodas.

"Sir, aren't you afraid of corpses?" Dincomb asked curiously.

"They are merely guests," Karen replied, "no different from patrons walking into a restaurant."

"Oh, indeed. A toast to our guest of the day and to these two helpful gentlemen!" Pick raised his bottle and shouted.

They clinked their soda bottles together.

"Are you two the only ones out on this run?" Karen asked, remembering that back home, a dispatch usually consisted of one driver and two attendants.

"Our boss was supposed to be with us, but he hopped out halfway to go see a mistress, expecting us to pick him up on our way back after the collection. Our boss's wife keeps him on a very tight leash," Pick explained.

"I see."

Pick finished his soda first and placed the empty bottle on the ground in front of him.

Alfred finished next, placing his bottle right beside the first one.

Dincomb followed suit, placing his bottle behind Alfred's, keeping a distance between them that precisely mirrored the gap between Alfred's and Pick's bottles, arranging the three into a perfect right angle.

Then, Karen, who was the last to finish, noticed both Pick and Dincomb fixing their gazes upon him.

Karen thought to himself: are these two obsessive-compulsive?

Forcing down the final gulp of his soda, Karen placed his bottle into the exact position required to complete a flawless square with the other three.

The moment the bottle touched the ground,

Dincomb pumped his fist: "Yes! Satisfying!"

Pick burst into laughter:

"Praise the Order!"

———

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