Klein chuckled, employing his rich "experience" from a past life to add a sharp remark:
"In fact, there is no evidence to suggest that those bigwigs have any brains."
"Excellent! Absolutely excellent!" Benson laughed heartily, giving a thumbs-up. "Klein, you're much more humorous than before."
Taking a breath, he continued:
"I have to go to the dock this afternoon, and I can only rest tomorrow. By then, hmm... we'll go together to the 'Tingen City Housing Improvement Company' to see if they have any cheap and good-quality row houses for rent. Also, we need to visit Mr. Frank."
"The landlord, sir?" Klein asked, puzzled.
Do the current landlords have good row houses in their portfolio? Benson glanced at his brother, amused, and said:
"You haven't forgotten that we have a year-long lease agreement, have you? It's only been six months."
"Hmm..." Klein took in a sharp breath.
He had indeed forgotten about this! Although the rent was paid weekly, breaking the lease by moving now would mean a breach of contract. If they were taken to court, they'd have to pay a hefty sum!
"You still lack sufficient social experience," Benson remarked, rubbing his receding hairline. "This was a clause I fought hard to include. Otherwise, Mr. Frank would have only agreed to a three-month lease. For the wealthy class, landlords usually rent for a year, two years, or even three years for stability. But for us, and for our previous selves and the surrounding neighbors, landlords are always concerned about unexpected incidents and the inability to pay rent. They prefer short-term contracts."
"In this way, they can also raise prices as circumstances dictate," Klein supplemented, combining the fragmented memories of the original host with his own renting experience.
Benson sighed:
"This is the reality and cruelty of today's society. Well, you don't need to worry about the contract; it's easily resolved. Frankly speaking, as long as we owe a week's rent, Mr. Frank will immediately evict us and keep valuable items as collateral. After all, his IQ is no higher than a baboon's; he can't handle complex matters."
Upon hearing this, Klein suddenly remembered a certain Sir Humphrey's quip, and shook his head earnestly:
"No, Benson, you're wrong."
"Why?" Benson looked puzzled.
"Mr. Frank's intelligence is slightly higher than that of a baboon," Klein answered seriously. Just as Benson began to smile knowingly, he added, "if he's in a good mood."
"Haha." Benson couldn't contain his reaction.
After a burst of laughter, he pointed at Klein, momentarily unable to find a suitable expression, and had to return to the main topic:
"Of course, as gentlemen, we won't resort to such shameless methods. Tomorrow, we'll go directly to Mr. Frank to negotiate. Believe me, he's easily persuaded, very easy."
On this point, Klein had no doubt; the existence of the gas pipeline was the most convincing evidence.
The brothers chatted for a while, then placed the remaining fried fish in the vegetable stew from last night, heating it up and softening the black rye bread with steam during the process.
After spreading some butter on the bread, Klein and Benson had a simple meal, yet they ate quite contentedly. The aroma and sweetness of the food lingered in their memories.
When Benson left, Klein also took three sovereigns and some scattered copper pennies, heading to the "Lettuce and Meat Market". He spent six pennies on a pound of beef and seven pennies on a large, tender, and spineless Tasock fish. Additionally, he bought potatoes, peas, turnips, rhubarb, lettuce, radishes, as well as ingredients like rosemary, basil, cumin, and oils.
Throughout the process, he still felt someone spying on him, but there was no substantial contact.
After a while at the "Slin Bakery", Klein returned home and began exercising his arm strength with heavy objects, such as stacked books. He had intended to do military exercises for physical fitness, but now he had forgotten even the radio gymnastics. Since these military training methods were only introduced recently, he had no choice but to keep it simple.
Klein didn't push himself too hard during the exercise, as it could lead to fatigue and increased danger. He stopped in time and reviewed the fourth-quarter knowledge, hoping to go through it again.
...
In the evening, Benson and Melissa sat at the desk, looking at the arranged food, dignified like senior elementary school students.
The various mixed aromas composed a rich food prelude. The beef stew exuded a soulful aroma, the mashed potatoes provided a distinct and enduring stimulation, the pea soup intertwined with sweetness and richness, the stewed rhubarb was subtly balanced, and the black rye bread was surrounded by the sweet aroma of butter.
Benson swallowed and turned to look at Klein, who was putting a crispy and golden fish on the plate, feeling the fragrant oil entering his throat and stomach.
Gurgle! His stomach made a distinct sound.
Klein rolled up his shirt sleeves and put the fried fish on the table, then took out two large glasses of ginger beer from the cupboard, placing them on the corresponding positions for Benson and himself.
He smiled at Melissa and magically produced a lemon pudding:
"We have beer, and you have this."
"...Thank you," Melissa replied weakly, taking the lemon pudding.
Seeing this, Benson picked up his glass, smiling:
"Let's celebrate Klein finding a good job."
Klein picked up his glass and clinked it with Benson's, then touched the lemon pudding with Melissa's:
"Praise the goddess!"
Gurgle, he drank a sip, feeling the spicy taste burning through his throat, leaving a wonderful aftertaste.
Ginger beer, though it was called beer, contained no alcohol. It combined the spiciness of ginger with the sourness of lemon to create a taste similar to beer, suitable for women and children, but Melissa didn't quite like it.
"Praise the goddess!" Benson followed suit, while Melissa nibbled on the lemon pudding, savoring it repeatedly, reluctant to swallow.
"Try it." Klein put down his glass, picked up a spoon, and pointed at the array of food on the table.
Among them, he was least confident about the pea soup, as he had never eaten such a strange thing on Earth. He could only "recreate" it based on the fragmented memories of the original host.
As an elder brother, Benson wasn't polite and scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Stewed to the extreme, the mashed potatoes, mashed to a pulp, combined with a slight pork fat flavor and just the right amount of salt, made him salivate and opened up his appetite.
"Not... bad... not bad at all," Benson praised vaguely. "Much better than what I had at the company last time. They used cream back then."
This could be considered my specialty... Klein accepted the praise calmly:
"Thanks to Mr. Welch's teaching in the Welch household."
Melissa looked at the beef stew with basil leaves, lettuce heads, and white radish chunks submerged in colorless soup, hiding the stewed beef. The color was fresh, and the aroma was enticing.
She forked a piece of beef into her mouth and chewed, feeling
the tenderness with a hint of chewiness, along with a slight saltiness and the faint sweetness of radish, as well as the spiciness of basil, stimulating the natural flavor of the beef.
"..." She seemed to be praising something, but couldn't stop her mouth.
Klein tasted it and felt delicious, but somewhat regretful. It was still a bit below his best standard, as some spices were missing and had to be replaced with others, which was inevitably odd.
Of course, even at his best, the meals he cooked were just passable.
Suddenly, he felt sorry for Benson and Melissa, who had never seen the world.
Swallowing the beef in his mouth, Klein picked up a piece of Tasock fish fried with cumin and rosemary. It was crispy on the outside and tender inside, golden and appetizing, with a blend of salty and oily flavors.
Nodding slightly, Klein tried a piece of stewed rhubarb, feeling it was just okay, enough to offset the greasiness of the meat.
Finally, he mustered up the courage to scoop some pea soup.
Too sweet, too sour... Klein couldn't help but furrow his brows.
But seeing Benson and Melissa satisfied after tasting it, he began to doubt his own taste buds, couldn't help but take a gulp of ginger beer to cleanse his palate.
The three siblings ate until their stomachs were full, unable to get up from their chairs for a long time.
"Let's praise the goddess again!" Benson picked up the last sip of ginger beer, satisfied.
"Praise the goddess!" Klein finished the last drink.
"Praise the goddess." Melissa finally swallowed the last bit of lemon pudding she had been saving until the end.
Seeing this, Klein, feeling a little tipsy, smiled:
"Melissa, this isn't good. It's best to eat your favorite food first, so you can experience its most delicious side. If you wait until you're full and your appetite decreases, the taste will be discounted."
"No, it's still equally delicious." Melissa answered firmly and stubbornly.
The three siblings chatted and laughed, digested for a while, then cleaned up the plates and utensils together, pouring the oil used for frying the fish back into the pot.
After the busyness, one reviewed the courses, one studied accounting knowledge, and one continued to read textbooks and notes, leading a fulfilling and satisfying life.
At 11 o'clock, the Klein siblings extinguished the gas lamp, washed up, and went to sleep.
...
In the dim and hazy darkness, feeling confused, Klein suddenly saw Dun Smith in a black knee-length overcoat, wearing a half-high top hat.
"Captain!" Klein suddenly woke up and knew clearly that he was in a dream.
Dun's gray eyes were calm, as if he were talking about a trivial matter:
"Someone has sneaked into your room, picked up your revolver, and forced him into the corridor. Then leave it to us."
Someone sneaked into my room? Has the observer finally taken action? Klein was startled, didn't dare to ask more, just nodded:
"All right!"
The scene before him immediately changed, with colors and chaos, like bubbles bursting one by one.
Opening his eyes, Klein cautiously turned his head to the side and saw a thin and unfamiliar figure standing at the desk, silently searching for something.