Chapter 90

Chapter 90: First Big Business at the antique shop

Duncan had already expected Morris’s reaction. He had only brought up that topic to confirm his guess.

Just as his earlier information had said, someone like Morris, an ordinary person, knew nothing about any great fire. That sea of flames existed only in Nina’s and Duncan’s memories.

Strictly speaking, until Duncan took control of this body, that fire had existed only in Nina’s own memory.

The topic passed quickly. Morris did not become suspicious because of this strange question. Next, he told Duncan a bit about Nina’s studies and her class, and asked some questions about Nina’s family.

It was clear that this elderly gentleman, who cared so much about his students, had wanted to know these things for a long time. But Nina’s uncle’s rotten, degenerate life had delayed it until today.

The memories Duncan inherited from this body were limited. He actually did not know the answers to many of the old gentleman’s questions. Fortunately, his mind was flexible. He could answer by relying on what memories he had and filling in the rest with imagination. As for the things he really could not handle… he pushed them onto his former decadent life, the harm of alcohol, and swore that he would turn over a new leaf.

He was very experienced with “home visits”. He knew what teachers usually asked and what they cared about. Even though this was now a different world and a different identity, that experience still came in handy.

When they finally finished this “proper business”, Mr. Morris’s attention, as expected, fell on the second thing he cared about most.

The old gentleman looked at the well-preserved antique dagger on the counter. The eagerness in his eyes was obvious to anyone: “Is this thing… for sale?”

Duncan smiled at once: “This is an antique shop.”

The antiques in an antique shop were, of course, for sale.

At this moment he had thought it through. The dagger came from the Vanished, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt there was no real danger in selling it. There were countless items aboard the Vanished, and not all of them were connected to anything supernatural. A dagger like this, put anywhere else, was just an ordinary antique. Why shouldn’t he sell it?

Compared to the pile of fakes in the shop, the cargo holds of the Vanished were the real way to make money.

Once his thoughts fell into place, the world suddenly felt wide open. Duncan’s mood brightened. He suddenly realized he had been sitting on a treasure hoard all along. Those things he had treated as scrap were treasures simply placed in the wrong spot, just waiting for some wealthy, fated buyer to appear. Looking at the Mr. Morris in front of him… wasn’t this a fated buyer?

Morris had no idea what schemes were turning in the mind of the antique shop’s owner. All of his attention was now on the well-preserved dagger. After hesitating for quite a while, he finally spoke carefully: “How much?”

Duncan: “…”

The world did not feel wide anymore, because he had no idea what price to name.

Even if he had inherited this body’s memories completely, he still would not know what price to ask. From the day this shop opened, it had never sold anything genuine. And antiques had no fixed pricing standard. He was a complete layman. What would be a proper price to ask right now?

Duncan thought fast. First he ruled out following the price tags on the fake goods in the shop and asking two or three hundred thousand. Even if this dagger was genuine and in excellent condition, it was only a little over a hundred years old. And from what the old gentleman had just said, daggers of this type from a century ago were rare but not unique. The sailors back then had used them as utility knives. That alone meant its value was limited.

It was relatively recent, not unique, and had no special historical background. It was a modern piece in excellent condition, but with only average value for collectors or display. Mr. Morris clearly liked it, which let him raise the price a little, but not too much. Besides, the man was Nina’s teacher. That relationship also had to be taken into account.

Duncan thought his way around the whole circle in just a couple of seconds. In the end, he still shook his head and smiled: “You name the price, Mr. Morris. You are the teacher Nina respects the most. I really can’t charge you the same as an ordinary customer.”

He understood clearly how limited his knowledge was. For him to guess a reliable number now was harder than getting Goathead to stay silent for three days. Whether he went too high or too low, it would just show how little he understood. Better to give Morris a step to stand on and let the old gentleman help him judge the value.

He believed Mr. Morris could probably guess his intention.

As for whether he would lose out on this deal… Duncan was quite relaxed about that.

It was a business with no cost at all. How much could he really lose? With no preparation, he could still get an unexpected sum of money, gain some experience, and get to know a professional in the field of history. In any case, it was still a profit.

Morris fell into serious thought.

He did not think about too many other things. Most of his attention was still on the dagger.

“Three thousand… three thousand four hundred sola. That’s my estimate,” Morris finally said. He seemed to have weighed it very carefully before settling on that number. “Mr. Duncan, you might feel this price is a bit low. But you have to consider the dagger’s age and its place in history. An item like this, one that isn’t unique, depreciates heavily on the market. Of course, its condition is very good. That is rare. But you also have to consider that not every collector will be interested in it…”

The old gentleman seemed to be working to explain the reasoning behind his price. Duncan listened while his mind started to calculate quickly.

In the Lower City, the entire monthly expenses for an ordinary family of three came to just a bit over two hundred sola. And most commoners in the Lower City ended each month with almost nothing left over, if they had any surplus at all.

This dagger was worth almost a year and a half of income for an ordinary Lower City household.

This was what a “genuine piece” was worth here. And this was not even a particularly valuable genuine piece.

He did not know whether he should sigh over the antique trade’s “three years with no business, one deal to eat for three years”, or over the shocking gap between lower-city life and the so-called refined hobbies of upper society.

Maybe he should simply sigh over how very rich this old gentleman in front of him was.

“Deal.” He let out a quiet breath and said to the old gentleman with a smile.

He did not even consider wasting time haggling.

No matter what, this was a huge sum for Nina and him right now. Reporting a cultist den did not bring in anywhere near this much.

Not long ago he had still been worrying about ways to make money. Now he suddenly found it was no longer such an urgent problem.

The world was unpredictable.

Morris, however, felt Duncan had agreed a bit too readily. He even felt a little guilty about it: “Actually… at this price, you are taking a loss. By a normal estimate, given how many of these daggers are still in existence and its condition, it should be at least ten or twenty percent more expensive… but…”

The old gentleman rubbed his nose, looking a little embarrassed: “Recently I have been spending quite a lot collecting old items. My funds are a bit tight…”

This old gentleman was even more honest than Duncan had imagined.

“I think it’s a very good price. Let’s take the difference as ‘fate’,” Duncan said with a smile. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he got up and went behind the counter. “By the way, to celebrate this ‘big deal’, I have a little gift for you.”

Morris watched with curiosity and some expectation as Duncan took a small purple crystal pendant out of one of the pigeonholes behind the counter.

The old gentleman had sharp eyes. At a glance he saw the tag from some glassworks still hanging on the pendant.

Morris: “…”

“A pendant that calms the mind and wards off evil. The crystal has been blessed. It can show the right direction amid illusions and the curse. Ancient Hypnotists used it to protect their minds against the dangers lurking in the dreamscape,” Duncan said, pushing the pendant toward him with a very serious expression. “It has protected one generation of Masters after another. Now it is fated to be yours…”

Morris hesitated, then pointed at the tag on the pendant: “But it says here it was made by Johnnie Glassworks…”

“I know. I forgot to tear that off,” Duncan said, face expressionless, as he pulled off the tag. “It’s a free gift. How could my shop have that many genuine items to give away?”

Morris stared for a second, then could not help laughing: “All right, fair enough. Thank you very much for the ‘gift’. With this, I hope my daughter will nag me a bit less.”

As he spoke, he accepted the pendant, then fumbled in his coat for a moment before taking out a bank checkbook. “I didn’t bring that much cash with me. This bank check can be cashed at any Pland City-State bank in the Crossroad District or the Upper City. Is that acceptable?”

Duncan smiled: “Of course.”

As he spoke, his gaze fell on Morris’s bank check.

When he first heard Nina mention her history teacher, he had already felt some doubt. Now that he had actually met Mr. Morris, that doubt stirred again.

From his clothes, his manner, and his professional skill in history and artifacts, this old gentleman was clearly not an ordinary person. Even without knowing what the Upper City was really like, Duncan could tell that a scholar like this should have been teaching at a university in the Upper City, not at a public school in the Crossroad District.

Even if he set aside all other factors, there was one obvious question:

Could an ordinary public school history teacher really pull out a year and a half of a Lower City family’s income so easily, just to buy a collectible he happened to like?