I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 238 Advertisement and Sherlock Holmes in the Fog (Bonus chapter for monthly votes, please continue to vote!)
It is obvious that, given Mikhail's character and his own standards, he did not have the potential to become a capitalist, or rather, the factory he started had the potential to become a paradise in a sense.
Of course, finding a balance between conscience, profits, the market, and relationships with other peers is a very big challenge, and Mikhail can only say that he is still slowly figuring it out.

Putting that aside for now, after finalizing the collaboration with Sanders, neither Mikhail nor Sanders were procrastinators, and both had made preparations well in advance. So, not long after, before the previous controversies surrounding Mikhail had been fully resolved, advertisements for Mikhail's new novel began to appear in many London newspapers.

Although there had been some unseen disputes before, business is business, and moreover, with Mikhail's response, public opinion has already shifted in his favor.

Therefore, while Jasper was still indulging in the fantasy that the Russian writer would come to his door to toast him, he had already seen similar advertisements in the newspapers:

"Mr. Mikhail, the author of works such as 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea' and 'The Gift of the Magi,' will soon have his latest work, 'A Study in Scarlet,' serialized in 'Fiction Monthly'! Following science fiction, a brand new novel genre will be born in Britain."

This is a gift from Mr. Mikhail to Britain!

Jasper: "?"

How many days have passed, and that Russian writer's new book is about to start serialization?

The owner of Novel Junpo
Is that Sanders, the usually mild-mannered and humble man who never failed to flatter him? How dare he?!
Jasper was filled with shock and anger. He couldn't help but recall that he had inadvertently made a bet with someone a couple of days ago, and he also remembered the scene of the thick Thames River that he had once seen. In a moment of nausea, Jasper quickly thought of a solution.

When he was preparing to have someone write some targeted comments, he was also planning to settle a score with Sanders after this matter was over!

In fact, Sanders had anticipated this situation before approaching Mikhail. He knew that doing so would offend many people in the London magazine industry, but sometimes, if you don't try your best, how can you create more room for advancement for yourself?

In addition, because Sanders spent a lot of money on advertising and Mikhail has recently been in the spotlight, advertisements for Mikhail's new book have also reached a wider audience.

In clubs supposedly symbolizing elegance and high society, the genuine English gentlemen present appeared composed and calm in every gesture. When faced with somewhat flamboyant advertisements in the newspapers, they at most showed a slight surprise, remarking to those around them:
"It looks a bit like a typical Newgate novel or an old Bailey novel, like Ainsworth's 'Rookwood,' a crime novel based on real cases that portrays criminals as fascinating villains. What's so special about that? And how can it be considered a completely new genre?"

"This novel seems to focus on the detective. What is there to write about a detective? In my opinion, it is far less exciting and interesting than stories about thieves and criminals. Of course, such a novel really glorifies crime and corrupts social morals."

"Who knows? Maybe he didn't know enough about British literature and mistakenly took what already existed as his own new creation."

"Will you take a look then?"

"Of course! After reading it, I'll know whether this Russian writer is a success or a failure in Britain. I bet he will fail. Only Russians would be like other Europeans, constantly learning French and French culture. How could those muddle-headed people possibly understand Britain?"

"Although I don't think he'll succeed either, what's the bet?"

"let me see"

Many more people, including many Britons, have come to know Mikhail because of his book "The Gift of the Magi," and have thus affirmed his ability to write in English. This group of people can be said to be spread across all levels of English speakers.

Whether they were the poor who couldn't afford to buy books and could only listen to others read stories, or the middle class, or even the so-called upper class, they all paid attention to this news to some extent:

"Is he the author of 'The Cop and the Anthem'? He really captured my heart! I'd rather be in prison than go to a workhouse! He has a kind heart, just like Mr. Dickens. I'll definitely go and hear his new novel."

"I love the endings in his English novels. In my opinion, there aren't many British writers who can write endings like that. I hope to see exciting twists in his new book as well!"

"The Gift of the Magi. Thinking about this novel now makes me so happy I could cry. I will support his new works!"

Strictly speaking, the Sherlock Holmes series by Arthur Conan Doyle is a series that gradually gained popularity, after all, Conan was just an unknown nobody back then, and he had to start all over again.

What about Mikhail?
His fame in Russia, the series of big news he made in Paris, the publication of "The Gift of the Magi" and "The Cop and the Anthem" in England, the controversy caused by some small ideas in "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," and the wave of Mikhail's counterattack—all of these propelled Mikhail into the limelight.

In addition to Holmes's own forward-thinking and brilliant qualities, as well as some more compact and brilliant adjustments made by Mikhail, Holmes's development will likely proceed at a rapid pace.

At least for now, many readers in London are paying attention to the news that A Study in Scarlet is about to be serialized.

As the attention grew, Sanders also experienced the incredible influence of Mikhail, the author. Putting everything else aside, the number of people subscribing to the magazine increased by several hundred! And it seems to be continuing to increase!

Spurred by this promising outlook, Sanders, who had staked a lot on this project, worked like a man possessed, pushing forward with frantic overtime. Two weeks passed quickly, and when another foggy day arrived in London, the latest issue of "Fiction Ten-Day Magazine" was delivered to subscribers' homes and placed in a prominent position in bookstores.

Because of the heavy fog, many readers had to brave the fog to come. Some impatient readers were even unwilling to go home first and instead found a suitable place to read right away.

Among them, Isaac, a poor student who looked respectable but actually had very little money, was an admirer of the Russian writer Mikhail.

Even though they were thousands of miles apart, Isaac learned through the newspaper that this Russian writer was a genuinely poor student before he became famous. He was a poor student before he became famous, and I am a poor student now. Could it be that...?
In addition, he really liked the author's serialized novels, so it would be almost impossible for him not to pay attention to the latest "A Study in Scarlet".

But when he finally managed to get the latest issue of "Fiction Weekly" after squeezing out his meager living expenses, he was almost immediately stunned when he saw the most eye-catching illustration in the magazine.

A blurry silhouette, a somewhat familiar cloak and coat, a somewhat familiar deerstalker hat, a somewhat familiar pipe, and that indescribable charm.
I feel like I've seen this person before.

Almost instantly, the illustration brought back a magical yet embarrassing experience Isaac had recently had.
After a moment of mental blankness, Isaac finally opened the magazine and began to read. The first paragraph of the first chapter, featuring Mr. Sherlock Holmes, immediately gave him a sense of familiarity:

"After receiving my medical doctorate from the University of London in 1838, I went on to complete the required courses for military medicine."

In short, an unfortunate retired army doctor who, by sheer luck, was able to return home early from the brutal Afghan War of 1838–1842 due to injuries sustained during those years, a war that was frequently reported in the news and was known to virtually every Englishman.

Although this down-on-his-luck military doctor named Watson survived, he seemed to have lost interest in life and had to move to a cheaper place due to financial problems. Just then, he ran into an acquaintance who said:

"You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet, do you? Otherwise, you might not be willing to be his long-term partner."

"Why? Is there something wrong with him?" "Oh, I don't mean there's anything wrong with him. He's just a little eccentric—he's always diligently studying science. As far as I know, he's a very upright person."

I said, "Maybe he's studying medicine?"

"No, I have no idea what he's studying. But as far as I know, he's never studied medicine systematically. His research is very disorganized, unsystematic, and quite bizarre; yet he has accumulated a lot of strange and unusual knowledge that would surprise even his professors."

This Mr. Holmes's eccentricities seem to go far beyond this:
"It's really not easy to put something indescribable into words. I think Holmes is a bit too scientific, almost to the point of being cold-blooded. I remember once he gave a small pinch of alkali to his friend to taste."

You must understand, this wasn't out of any malice, but simply out of a research-oriented motivation—to correctly understand the different effects of this drug. Frankly, I think he would have swallowed it himself. It seems he has a strong craving for precise knowledge.”

"This spirit is also correct."

"Yes, but that was a bit too much. Later he even beat the corpses with sticks in the autopsy room, which was quite strange."

"Whip the corpse!"

"Yes, he did it to prove what kind of injuries could be inflicted on a dead person. I saw him whipping a corpse with my own eyes."

Upon witnessing such bizarre behavior as beating a corpse, not only Watson in the story but also Isaac, the reader of the novel, were astonished. Could this Sherlock Holmes be a heartless criminal?

Soon, Isaac followed Watson to a laboratory, and

There was only one person in the room, sitting at a table some distance away, engrossed in his work. Hearing our footsteps, he turned around, glanced at us, and then jumped up, shouting excitedly, "I've found it! I've found it!" He yelled to my companion, running towards us with a test tube in his hand.
Stanford introduced them to us, saying, "This is Dr. Watson, and this is Mr. Holmes."

"Hello," Holmes said warmly, shaking my hand firmly. I could hardly believe he had such strength.

“I can tell you’ve been to Afghanistan.”

I asked in surprise, "How did you know?"

“It’s nothing,” he chuckled.

What do you mean by "it's nothing"? Explain why! How can you tell something like this?
Just as Isaac was scratching his head over this part of the story, he suddenly remembered his experience a few days ago. Could it be that such a person really existed?
Confused, he eagerly read on. Watson and Holmes eventually ended up living together, and during their time together, Watson noticed Holmes's eccentricities on more than one occasion. One day, while eating, Watson came across an article in a magazine that read:
The article's title seems somewhat exaggerated, something like "A Treasure Trove of Life Insights." This article attempts to illustrate how much a keen observer can gain if they observe the things they encounter precisely and systematically.
The author states, "A logician doesn't need to see or hear about the Atlantic Ocean or Nicaragua; he can deduce its existence from a single drop of water. Therefore, life as a whole is a vast chain, and by seeing just one link, the entire chain can be inferred."
Upon reading this, I couldn't help but throw the magazine on the table and exclaim, "What utter nonsense! I've never seen such a boring article in my entire life!"

"Which article?" Holmes asked.

"Hmm, it's this article. I don't deny that it's beautifully written, but after reading it, I still can't help but feel angry. Clearly, this is some lazy bum who spends his days eating and doing nothing, sitting in his study, making up a bunch of specious and illogical theories."

“Then you lose,” Holmes said calmly. “I wrote that one.”

While Isaac couldn't help but laugh at this British humor, he also became curious about this so-called "deductive reasoning." Did such a thing really exist? Was it scientifically sound?
The profession of detective was conceived by the author based on the Frenchman Vidocq.
As Isaac eagerly continued reading, Holmes did not disappoint. Holmes first revealed the mystery of Afghanistan:

"My reasoning goes like this: 'This gentleman has the demeanor of a medical professional, yet possesses the bearing of a soldier. Where else could a British military doctor have endured such hardship in the tropics and sustained an arm injury? Naturally, only in Afghanistan.'"

He then casually expressed his contempt for the two famous figures. Just as Watson was still angry, thinking Holmes was arrogant and conceited, he tried to change the subject:
“I don’t know what this person is looking for?” I said, pointing to a large, simply dressed man. He was walking slowly across the street, anxiously searching for a house number. He was holding a large blue envelope, clearly a messenger.

Holmes said, "You mean that retired Marine Corps sergeant?"

I thought to myself, "He's just bragging again. He knows I can't verify whether his guess is correct."

But coincidentally, at this very moment, the messenger was looking for Watson and his companions' residence, and so:
I tried to speak in a gentle voice: "Young man, what is your profession?"

“I am an officer, sir,” the man replied gruffly, “and my uniform is being repaired.”

"What did you do before?" I asked him, while giving my companion a slightly malicious glance.

“Sergeant, sir, I served in the Royal Marines Light Infantry. Sir, no reply? Well, sir.”

He touched his heel, saluted, and then walked out.

Holmes was right!

Just as Isaac was about to cheer, he saw the following lines of text much earlier:
"A brutal case has occurred! Watch how Sherlock Holmes refutes the incompetent police and sees through the truth at a glance! The exciting content is in the next episode!"

Isaac: "?"

What kind of announcement are you making without any specific details?!
After reading the last part, Isaac couldn't help but read the previous parts twice more. After finishing reading them, Isaac walked to his residence somewhat absentmindedly.

For some reason, as time went on, the fog in London not only did not dissipate, but became even thicker. Just as Isaac was walking carefully through the fog, he suddenly heard a rhythmic sound of footsteps.

When he looked in the direction of the sound, a slender, tall figure emerged from the unsettling fog as if it had melted away. He wore a peculiar yet perfectly fitting cloak and a deerstalker hat that seemed out of place in the city.

The strange man seemed to have noticed Isaac as well. When he looked at Isaac, who was standing there stunned, he simply nodded politely to Isaac as he had done before, and then walked straight into the thick fog, which buried him once again in the vast city of London.

Only his seemingly mysterious smile remained in Isaac's mind.
Isaac: "!!!"

He still remembers me!
Meanwhile, on that very day, many Britons, whether in cafes, at home, or outdoors, seemed to see this blurry figure in the thick fog.
(End of this chapter)