The golden glow of twilight lingered outside the window as Klein gazed into Melissa's eyes. For a moment, he found himself at a loss for words, as all the prepared lines seemed inadequate.
He cleared his throat lightly and quickly diverted his thoughts, "Melissa, this isn't squandering our income. Are we to entertain Benson and my colleagues in such surroundings? Once Benson and I marry, should we continue with bunk beds?"
"You two still don't have fiancées. You can wait a bit longer and save more money," Melissa logically replied.
"No, Melissa, this is societal protocol," Klein felt a headache coming on. He had to resort to grand arguments. "If I'm earning 3 pounds a week, I must live up to that standard."
To be honest, having squeezed into shared accommodations before, he was quite accustomed to his current living conditions. Yet, it was precisely because of this experience that he understood the inconvenience it posed for girls. Moreover, his goal was to become extraordinary, delve into mysticism, and find the "path" home. In the future, there would inevitably be magical rituals at home, and with so many people in the apartment, problems were bound to arise.
Seeing Melissa about to say something, Klein quickly added, "Rest assured, I'm not considering standalone houses. I'm thinking of row houses. Anyway, we must have our own washroom. Also, I do enjoy Mrs. Sline's bread, Tingen cakes, and lemon cakes. We should consider places closer to Iron Cross Street and Narcissus Street."
Melissa pursed her lips in silence for a moment before nodding slowly.
"Moreover, I'm not in a rush to move; we'll wait for Benson to return," Klein smiled, "Otherwise, he'll open the door and be shocked and bewildered, asking, 'Where are my belongings? Where are my siblings? Where's my home? Is this my home? Have I walked into the wrong place? Goddess, tell me this is a dream. How can I come back after a few days and find my home gone?'"
He mimicked Benson's tone, causing Melissa to involuntarily lower her eyes, revealing shallow dimples on her cheeks.
"No, Mr. Feranchi will be waiting at the door, asking Benson for the apartment keys. Benson won't even be able to come upstairs," the girl quipped about the miserly landlord.
In the Moretti household, everyone loved to poke fun at Mr. Feranchi, the landlord, a tradition that Benson had instigated.
"Yes, he won't change the locks for the next tenants," Klein smiled in agreement, gesturing to the door humorously. "Miss Melissa, care to join me for a celebration at the Silver Crown Restaurant?"
Melissa sighed lightly, "Klein, do you know Selena? My classmate, my good friend."
Selena? In Klein's mind appeared a girl with auburn hair and deep brown eyes, whose parents were both followers of the Goddess of the Night, blessing her with the name of Saint Selena. She was not yet sixteen, half a year younger than Melissa, a cheerful, outgoing girl.
"Yes," Klein nodded, remembering Selena Wood.
"Her brother, Chris, is a legal affairs lawyer and currently earns nearly 3 pounds a week. His fiancée works part-time as a typist," Melissa described the situation first, then continued, "They've been engaged for over four years. In order to have a stable, decent life after marriage, they've been saving money until today. They haven't walked down the aisle yet, planning to wait for at least another year. According to Selena, people similar to her brother usually wait until they're around 28 to get married. You have to prepare in advance, save money properly, and not waste it."
Just going out for a meal, was there a need for so much lecturing... Klein listened, not sure whether to laugh or cry, and after a few seconds, he said, "Melissa, I already have a weekly income of 3 pounds now, and it will increase every year in the future. You don't need to worry."
"But it's necessary to save money to prepare for unexpected events, like if that security company suddenly goes bankrupt. I have a classmate who had to drop out because her father's company went bankrupt and she had to find temporary work at the docks. Their living conditions deteriorated instantly, and they had no choice but to leave school," Melissa earnestly persuaded her brother.
... Klein covered his face with his hand.
"That security company, um, is somewhat related to the government and won't just go bankrupt easily," he said.
"But the government isn't stable either. After every election, if there's a change in parties, most positions will be replaced, causing chaos," Melissa persisted.
... Little sister, you really know a lot... Klein shook his head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
"Alright..."
"Then I'll make a soup with the leftovers from yesterday, and you can buy a piece of pan-fried fish, a slice of beef with black pepper sauce, a small jar of cream, and bring me a cup of ginger beer from the street. Anyway, let's celebrate a little," Melissa said, concluding her lecture.
These were all foods commonly sold by vendors on Iron Cross Street. A piece of pan-fried fish cost 6 to 8 pence, a slice of beef with black pepper sauce about 5 pence, a cup of ginger beer 1 pence, and a small jar of cream about a quarter-pound, costing 4 pence — buying 1 pound of cream directly only required 1 sule and 3 pence.
The original host was responsible for buying groceries during the holidays and was not unfamiliar with prices. Klein calculated for a few seconds and concluded that he needed approximately 1 sule and 6 pence, so he directly took out the two 1-sule notes.
"Alright," Melissa no longer objected and took the money after putting down her bag filled with stationery.
Watching his sister take out the small jar of cream and the bowl for the other food, walking briskly towards the door, Klein thought for a moment and called out to her, "Melissa, use the remaining money to buy some fruit."
Many vendors on Iron Cross Street would purchase low-quality or long-stored fruits from elsewhere, and the people here didn't mind because they were very cheap. By cutting off the rotten parts when they got home, they could still enjoy delicious fruit, which could be considered an inexpensive pleasure.
After saying this, Klein approached quickly, took out the remaining copper pennies from his pocket, and put them in his sister's hand.
"Huh?" Melissa's brown eyes looked at her brother with confusion and bewilderment.
Klein took two steps back, smiling slightly, "Remember to go to Mrs. Sline's and treat yourself to a slice of lemon cake."
"... Okay." Melissa's mouth opened and closed, her eyes blinked, and finally, she uttered a single word, "Sure."
She turned around swiftly, pulled open the door, and hurried down the stairs.
---
A river flowed through, with cedar and maple trees lining both banks, the air so fresh it felt intoxicating.
Klein, with his revolver tucked away, holding his cane, disembarked from the public carriage he had paid 6 pence for. He walked along
the cement road toward the three-story brick building, nestled in the lush greenery — the administrative building of Tingen University.
"One of the most renowned universities in the Kingdom of Runa..." Klein marveled as he arrived here for the first time.
Compared to here, Hoy University across the river seemed downright shabby.
"Ha-ya! Ha-ya!"
The shouts grew closer as two rowboats raced downstream on the Hoy River, each oar moving in perfect synchronization.
This was a rowing sport popular in all universities in the Kingdom of Runa, and due to Klein's financial situation, which required scholarship assistance to complete his university education, he had joined Hoy University's rowing club with Welch and others and had become quite proficient at rowing.
"So youthful..." Klein stopped and sighed.
In another week, this scene would no longer exist because the school would be on summer vacation.
Walking along the tree-lined path, he arrived at the gray three-story brick building. After registering, he easily found his way to the office where he had been received before.
Knock! Knock! Knock! He lightly tapped on the partially closed door.
"Come in," a male voice came from inside the room.
Watching Klein push open the door, the middle-aged professor in a white shirt and black tails frowned slightly, "The interview is still an hour away."
"Mr. Stone, do you remember me? Klein Moretti, a student of Professor Cohen's senior associate. You've read my recommendation letter," Klein smiled, tipping his hat.
Haven Stone rubbed his black beard, puzzled, "What can I do for you? I'm not in charge of interviews."
"Well, I've already found a job, so I won't be participating in the interview today," Klein explained his purpose truthfully.
"Oh, I see..." Haven Stone understood, stood up, and extended his right hand, "Congratulations, you're a polite young man. I'll inform the professors and senior associates."
Klein shook hands with him, intending to exchange a few pleasantries and then take his leave. However, he heard a familiar voice from behind:
"Moretti, you've found another job?"
Turning around, Klein saw an old man with silver hair, sharp features but few wrinkles. His eye sockets were sunken, his eyes deep blue, and he wore a neatly pressed black tailcoat.
"Good morning, mentor, Mr. Azk," he hurriedly saluted, "What brings you and Mr. Stone here?"
This old man was Quentin Cohen, a senior associate professor in the History Department at Hoy University and Klein's mentor. Standing next to Cohen was a man of medium build with tanned skin, holding a newspaper, clean-shaven, wearing a hat, with black hair and brown eyes. His features were soft, his eyes revealing an indescribable sense of experience. Below his right ear was a small mole that could only be seen up close.
Klein recognized him as Azk, the history department instructor who often helped the original host, Klein Moretti. He enjoyed arguing with Cohen, his mentor, and their views often clashed. However, in reality, the two were very close, as evidenced by their camaraderie.
Cohen nodded and spoke in a calm tone, "Mr. Azk and I are here to attend an academic conference. What kind of job have you found?"
"A security company that specializes in finding, collecting, and protecting antiques. They need professional consultants, paying 3 pounds a week," Klein repeated what he had told his sister yesterday, then explained, "You know, I prefer exploring history rather than summarizing it."
Cohen nodded gently, "Everyone has their own choices. Can you remember to inform Tingen University instead of simply being absent? I would appreciate it."
At this point, Azk interjected, "Klein, do you know what happened to Welch and Naya? I read in the newspaper that they were killed by burglars."
The case has been classified as a burglary now? And it made it to the newspaper so quickly? Klein was momentarily stunned, carefully choosing his words:
"I'm not too clear on the specifics. Welch had obtained a notebook from the Fourth Solomon Empire's Antigonus family, asked me to interpret it together, and I started for a few days. Then I got busy looking for a job, and the police came to me a couple of days ago."
He deliberately mentioned "Fourth Solomon Empire" and "Antigonus family" to see if the two history department professors knew anything.
"The Fourth...," Cohen furrowed his brow, speaking softly.
Azk, with his bronze skin and worldly eyes, was stunned at first, then took a breath and rubbed his temples with the hand holding the newspaper:
"Antigonus... It feels familiar... But I can't remember where I've heard it..."