Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire

Zaw(2)

“You went? already?”

“Ah, yes. teacher.”

uh huh Arthur Conan Doyle sighed and shook his head.

Of course, Arthur himself was the one who told me to go first for fear of causing trouble. But I really didn’t expect to wait.

“It’s a pity. I still have a lot of things I want to say.”

“Ah, that coolie said that too.”

“Don’t talk like that carelessly. If no one else knows, aren’t you a police officer who accepts the stipend of this London Metropolitan Police Department? As a person in charge of public order, you should keep in mind that all people are children of the Lord.”

“hahahaha, sorry.”

The detective smiled broadly and took something out of his pocket as if turning around. It was a different note from the one Arthur himself had given.

Arthur looked at it intently.

There were only three lines written in English. The two above were the addresses of a house in London and one in Devon.

Indeed, this is Sandan, right?

Just when Arthur made up his mind to go find him, he heard a cautious voice next to him.

“Hey… So, sir, when are you going to resurrect Holmes… Inspector-in-chief’s salary went up thanks to you too, but these days he’s out of medicine…”

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk about that in front of me again!!”

A hand that was greatly bent by the momentary rise in blood pressure. And the note in his hand was also…

“Ouch!”

He hurriedly unfolded the note that was about to tear from the stress of the moment.

Fortunately, I was able to find out the contents.

‘Whew…’

After carefully unfolding the note, Arthur Conan Doyle tore only the part with the address written on it and put it in his bosom.

And sent a glare at the detective who pressed his seizure button.

Then he hurriedly averted his eyes.

“Anyway, damn this guy.”

Even though he was already buried in a grave, the ghost of Sherlock Holmes still haunted him.

Of course, in the eyes of a third party.

It was self-employed.

***

“Hey, I never thought that man was Arthur Conan Doyle…”

After leaving the Metropolitan Police Department, I muttered in confusion.

Come to think of it, the foreshadowing was enough.

No, no matter how common sense it is to be a doctor, how common is it that Scotland Yard seeks cooperation?

What’s more, it’s a doctor who writes as a hobby, and if the hospital isn’t doing well, well, it’s confirmed.

And yet I don’t recognize Arthur Conan Doyle! Oh my God, I even bought the Anthony Horowitz sequel!

······No, no. It’s not my fault.

That nobleman, while he is the best in the genre of mystery novels, he avoids talking about mystery novels every time we meet, right?

There are usually readers who memorize the work and style of the writer, but very few readers know the face.

No, yes. No wonder you don’t know

Is it Watson’s fault that he couldn’t see through Sherlock’s disguise? Sherlock sucks.

So I’m not wrong!

Rather, Mr. Miller, who had been away for a while today, was supposed to come…

When I returned home to the townhouse in the West End after trying so hard to win my spirits, I heard a loud voice from inside the drawing room.

“Hensle, why are you so late again? Could it be that there was something strange about Scotland Yard?”

“Ah, Mr. Miller! no. It ended quickly, but I met someone I knew on the way there. I came to talk for a while.”

What, when did you come back?

I said appropriately taking off my coat. At the same time, Mr. Miller came out to greet me.

“Hmm, did you? Well, anyway, you worked hard.”

“Yes, by the way…”

And it was not Mr. Miller alone who greeted me.

“Who are the ladies and gentlemen behind him?”

A couple seeing each other for the first time.

The male side was a gentleman in his 40s, wearing a black tailcoat and high-quality khaki riding breeches.

The female side was a blonde beauty who wore a dress common in the Victorian era, with her shoulders covered and a bustle at the back of the skirt that made it bulge.

When I entered the drawing room, she stood up with a smile on the other side, and Mr. Miller introduced me accordingly.

“Oh, you mean this way? say hello This is the accountant from the Rothschilds who decided to come over.”

“yes. My name is Lionel Walter Rothschild. Please call me Walter. This is my relative’s niece, Rowena Rothschild.”

“hello. Please call me Roy.”

From noble mtl dot com

“Okay then, let’s talk. I will be watching.”

Did Mr. Miller just set the board? Well, since I’m the founder of the ＜Alice and Peter Foundation＞, it’s natural.

Feeling like an interviewer, I spoke awkwardly.

Then once…

“Hmm, you look quite old. How old are you, by any chance?”

“Oh, it hasn’t been as long as I thought. That’s because I’m still in my 20s.”

“······yes?”

Walter smiled brightly as he said that.

That… on the face? But he didn’t seem to notice my surprise, so he continued.

and its contents.

“Actually, I am also working at Rothschild Bank as a bank teller, but accounting is a bit weak. To some extent, it can be said that the purpose is to get acquainted with the writer.”

“Your accounting is weak?”

what is this again?

I looked at the male side, Walter Rothschild, with amazement.

But Walter said it shamelessly.

“No, actually, I’m not dealing with money, I’m majoring in zoology. hahahaha, do you know the speed at which a swallow with nothing can fly?”

“……Is that the side of the European swallow? Or are you talking about African swallows?”

“Oh, you know. Author!”

No, I don’t know. I just saw it in a comedy drama.

However, Lionel Walter soon lit up his eyes and began to speak incessantly.

In fact, the two birds are classified as the same swallow, but because their lifestyles are completely different, their speeds differ greatly. Isn’t it because the European swallow keeps reciting the story that it flies at 11 meters per second for several minutes without stopping?

So, this… you mean that you’re just a fan of animals?

But how did such a zoologist come to our side as an accountant? When asked so bluntly, Lionel Walter spoke confidently.

“Oh, actually, my father is Baron Nathan Mayer Rothschild. I am the eldest son.”

“Oh, I see.”

Indeed… it was.

I refined my ceremonial crown.

I trimmed my bangs and lightly straightened the wrinkles on the clothes I was wearing. Then, I put my knees together to prevent a single ant from passing, and then I put my hands together neatly on top of it.

Then, slowly bending at exactly 45 degrees from the waist and neck, he said.

“Keep talking, Gongja.”

“oh my! Confucius, author!”

“I was rude to the baron’s work, I’m sorry!!”

“No, why are you like that!? What if the person who wrote ＜Vincent Villiers＞ did that!”

no, what can you do?

No matter how much I am a web novel writer, that is, popular literature, and a citizen of the Democratic Republic, power is a scary law.

What will the petit bourgeois do?

Besides, even at the time of writing the web novel, people with a lot of money suspiciously sometimes gave strong support… honestly, it was scary.

Do I have to attend? But my body is already shattered? with the same feeling.

Besides, Nathan Mayer Rothschild… isn’t he the one who becomes the British branch of the world’s foremost financial family, and later the first head of the head family?

Then, it is said that this person is Lord Soga, who will later become the owner of the place.

“no no. Please don’t do that. I haven’t received the succession of nobility yet, and even if I did, I have absolutely no intention of doing anything in the financial field. I’m just busy with my animal studies.”

“Is that so?”

The bent head is lifted about 20 degrees.

Seeing me like that, Walter skillfully continued.

“yes. Come to think of it, writer-nim, from what I’ve heard, you’re in your late twenties? I was born in 1968, so I am twenty-six this year. ha ha ha! Please let go.”

“…Really?”

“Sure, brother!”

“Keumkeum, then is that so?”

Oh, I can’t help it. I straightened my bent back about 30 degrees and made eye contact.

It sounds like you leaned back slightly.

By the way, he’s a younger brother…

To be honest, I was more surprised that he was my younger brother than I was, rather than why the Rothschild baron Bocchan was so easy-going and commonplace.

I glanced at him wondering why he looked so outwardly old… and then my eyes landed on his receding forehead.

Walter Rothschild must have noticed my gaze and said with a teary face.

“Please don’t do that too much, brother.”

“Uh, uh… um, sorry. No, sorry.”

I cleared my throat and tried to smile at him.

You can’t make fun of something like that. If you make fun of someone with a disability for that, you’re a real asshole.

“Anyway, so I’ll just put my name on it, and Roy here will do the actual accounting work. Even if it looks like this, it is famous for its grades, which are among the best in our Rothschild family.”

Aha, so it’s an important job, so the responsibility is on this side, the owner of the small household, and the work is on the other side with good ability. understood.

And as if in response to my gaze, she, a woman called Rowena Rothschild, bowed her head.

“I will do my best.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha! See, author. Our Roy is so confident.”

“Ah, yes.”

Um, is that full of confidence?

I turned my gaze to Rowena Rothschild.

Well, of course, since I spent time at Rothschild, I’m sure I’ll do a good job.

However, being a female accountant at this time is certainly not common, so it feels strange. I also want to be a Rothschild.

What, does it matter? The important thing is to spend my money well and calculate taxes well. so.

“Excuse me, then, can I take a test?”

“of course. Writer.”

Rowena Rothschild nodded calmly enough to be cold.

Fortunately, there was no doubt about his actual ability.

As an example, I lightly showed my royalties book, but even though I didn’t have Excel, it was neatly organized and displayed.

“great. Then, may I ask you to sign a contract as my exclusive tax accountant?”

“Ouch, it’s an honor. Author!”

I thought they were really strange, but…

Anyway, ability is everything.

***

“So, I think I can do anything with my abilities. Anyway, Walter is so friendly, and there’s nothing wrong with being close with the next generation of the Rothschilds, right?”

“…Hmm, is that all?”

“yes?”

I saw Mr. Miller.

Mr. Miller was looking elsewhere with a slightly unexpected expression on his face.

It’s unusual, it’s been a long time since that man made such an expression.

Because that was the expression Mr. Miller only made when he was really dumbfounded.

Hmm… is there anything related to the Rothschilds?

If that’s not the case… Ah?

“Are you Miss Rowena?”

“Yes, the lady.”

“Well, it was unusual.”

But do you really need to know? I couldn’t help but think that way.

Anyway, as there was a Rothschild’s next head of household named Walter, there was no choice but to fade, but it was because she was a girl without words.

At those words, Mr. Miller nodded slightly and murmured, “It’s surprising, I thought you’d say it openly…”

There seems to be some kind of backstory, but when I asked, he said that I don’t think I need to worry about it, so I decided to just think that way.

anyway.

“Mr. Miller, can we go back to Ashfield now?”

“Not yet.”

“yes?”

what else is left?

I looked at Mr. Miller in bewilderment.

You’ve set up the foundation, and you’ve also beaten down the economic group that oppresses the poor novelist. what more is left?

“One more guest has decided to come. I know him well, but I thought it would be good for you to know too.”

“Who is that?”

“Fly!!”

oops

I jumped up in amazement at the sight of a large old man bursting into Mr. Miller’s townhouse.

Then Mr. Miller also got up and took off his hat to greet him.

“Welcome, Mr. George Nums.”

“hmm! Long time no see, Fred!!”

Mr. Niels? I looked at him in amazement.

Speaking of George Nums, he’s the president of Nux’s publishing house, which appears in The Strand Magazine.

Come to think of it, did Mr. Miller say he knew this way well? There’s something between local dignitaries.

Anyway, the guest has arrived, so I have to greet him.

I hurriedly called the servants and ordered them to set up a suitable food in the townhouse kitchen and bring it.

And in that brief interval, Mr. George Nums was sitting and talking to Mr. Miller, spattering.

A handsome gentleman must be in a hurry.

“Fred, you heard everything! Don’t even think about hiding from me!”

“I’m always honest with Mr. Nibbs.”

“Then why did you keep Hanslo Jin hidden from me until now!”

to? Me?