Fantasy Writers 1860

Chapter 117 Store Manager William: That's right, it was I who supported Dorian's literary dream.

Blue Sun Cafe, Sheffield District, Lontinion.

Just like countless other ordinary days, store manager William prepared to open the store door and flip the "Closed" sign in the window so that the side that said "Open" faced outwards.

But unlike usual, he found that a long queue had formed outside the locked door.

Such situations have occurred before.

Manager William clearly remembered that the last time something similar happened was because of "The Necklace" and "The Cop and the Hymn" in Bentley Weekly, and the time before that was because of "Mr. Hakimi's Joke" in Lentinion Weekly.

"Boss, you must have this issue of Bentley Weekly here, right? I've stocked it before!" The first person to enter the store as soon as Manager William opened the door asked this question.

This was an unfamiliar face, not someone from the nearby neighborhood. It must have come from another area, just like last time.

William's little shop wasn't anything special; it was frequented only by local residents, and over the years, it had been mostly regulars from the neighborhood. He himself felt that the shop was more like a public facility on the nearby street than a coffee shop.

Long ago, he began to emulate some famous coffee shops by subscribing to newspapers and magazines and placing them in his shop for people to read for free. Although the effect was not obvious at the time, over the years, this habit has made his coffee shop the cultural center of the neighborhood.

Now that people's living conditions have improved, they have a need to read books and newspapers, but not that much of a need.

So going to a library, public reading room, or newsstand is often quite expensive, but his coffee shop is conveniently located nearby and doesn't charge extra.

And now, this has become the unique feature of his little shop.

There are no similar places in other neighborhoods, so for ordinary people who just want to see something temporarily or occasionally, it's more cost-effective to come here.

"Yes, yes, sir," Manager William readily agreed. "Has this magazine published another major article?"

"Yes, that Mr. Dorian from before has released a new work!"

When "The Necklace" and "The Cop and the Hymn" were published some time ago, he had already wondered if this Dorian was the Dorian he knew.

At first, he thought it was just a case of the same name, since the name was quite common. But after finally managing to get his hands on a few issues of Bentley Weekly and seeing "Dorian Winchester White" listed as the author, he was completely certain.

It really was the Dorian I knew.

However, I don't recognize them very well now.

We don't really know each other anymore in any sense.

He simply couldn't believe that the madman who had always fantasized about being a great writer, yet couldn't publish a single article, whose room was piled high with rejection letters, who would come over every day just to sit with a cup of coffee, and who later couldn't even afford the cheapest coffee, yet still borrowed a large sum of money from the mafia to buy some kind of typewriter, had actually become a great writer!

He also read through the two short stories and found them to be truly brilliant, a world apart from the nonsensical so-called "novels" he had written before.

Putting aside any talk of literary cultivation, anyone who can read can clearly see that his previous "novels" are worlds apart from "The Necklace" by comparing them.

Perhaps, Dorian really did have an epiphany after writing so much garbage, or perhaps he mastered it.

Regardless of how you look at it, it's a good thing overall.

Old John and Mary can finally rest in peace.

So, after confirming this, whenever a guest mentioned Dorian, he would trigger an automatic reply: "Mr. Dorian? Oh, he's the kid from our neighborhood. I saw his talent a long time ago. I supported him through his most difficult times, telling him not to give up on literature, not to give up on creating, and now it's finally bearing fruit!"

What, is there a problem?

Besides me, which other coffee shop owner would allow him to keep buying on credit like this? Sitting there all day with just one cup of coffee? Isn't that considered support?

Is there something wrong?

No problem.

Store manager William never thought there was anything wrong with what he said.

After the underlying code finished running, he followed up on the other person's question, asking, "A new work? Is it another exquisite novel?"

"Wow, manager, you really have a keen eye!" The customer gave a perfunctory reply, clearly not believing him.

You supported Mr. Dorian? Does Mr. Dorian know this?

How could such talented people come from such a place?

The poor people here probably don't even know what rhetoric or rhyme is, how could they possibly raise a great writer? Mr. Dorian must have grown up in a scholarly family, or at least a middle-class family like his own, if not a nobleman.

As the saying goes, "People are afraid of becoming famous, just like pigs are afraid of getting fat." Once someone becomes famous, all sorts of people will try to piggyback on their fame.

However, he didn't dwell on such a trivial matter, after all, he had come here to read Bentley's Weekly, so he was asking for a favor.

"No, it's a poem!"

诗？

Store manager William was taken aback.

This kid has never written poetry before.

He had previously written novels, although they were all terrible, and the discarded manuscripts were so rough they were too hard to even wipe one's butt, but he had indeed written quite a few novels.

In retrospect, those terrible novels may have been a form of accumulation and sedimentation.

But he had never heard of Dorian writing poetry before.

Seeing William's expression, the customer became even more convinced of his idea that the store manager was just trying to ride on William's fame.

If you really support Mr. Dorian's work and really know him, how come you didn't even know he could write poetry?

"It's very well written. I heard from my friend's brother's brother-in-law's uncle's sister's father-in-law's aunt that Mr. Dorian wrote it on the spot at a literary salon, and it's now been edited and published in Bentley Weekly."

superior--

'

"You know about the gas explosion in St. George's district a few days ago, right? The whole of Londinion should have felt the tremors. But that wasn't an accident—"

Store Manager William: ?

Weren't we talking about Dorian and his poetry? How did this turn into a gas explosion accident?

The visitor lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "The literary salon that Mr. Dorian attended that day was near that explosion site. The magic crystal gas in the pipes was detonated by Mr. Dorian's masterpiece!"

Store Manager William: ?

What does it mean?

Is this some kind of lame joke?

Looking at the other person's serious expression, the store manager felt that he wasn't joking.