Fantasy Writers 1860

The newly relocated editorial office of Lentinion Weekly at 114 Lambeth Riverside Square in the Tannhäuser district is filled with a joyful atmosphere.

Clancy sat in her simply decorated private office, her face beaming with an irrepressible smile.

Since the reason for relocating is to make money, it is natural to choose a better place.

Clancy rented an entire floor of the building, finally getting herself a small, private office so she wouldn't have to squeeze in with everyone else anymore.

Of course, with the explosive growth in space between the new and old locations, other ordinary editors were also allocated a sizable office area, and all sorts of miscellaneous items were neatly stored and placed, instead of being piled up haphazardly as before, leaving no place to even step inside.

He had just received the latest statistics, and the number of subscribers was climbing like wildly growing vines in spring.

"That's great!" Clancy exclaimed softly, tapping his fingers lightly on his new desk. "Subscriptions have increased by another ten percent this week. The Morning Star's publicity is really effective."

"In that case, GG's page fees can be increased appropriately..."

He turned around and looked at the busy and orderly figures of the other employees outside the door, each with a face full of energy.

If it can maintain this momentum, it won't be long before Lentinion Weekly can go even further, step onto a bigger stage in the publishing industry, and truly occupy a place there.

"Good deeds are indeed rewarded! Luckily, I didn't kick him out that day, but instead took a kind look at the joke he wrote... Luckily, when he came to me for an advance on his writing fee that day, I didn't refuse, but instead kindly agreed."

Although it happened only recently, Clancy's memory has already begun to be filtered through a lens.

But none of that matters. What matters is that Dorian can't leave.

He knew, of course, that the success of the Lontinion Weekly had nothing to do with him; it was all thanks to this young man.

Now that "The Millionaire List" is finished, it's time to find some time to discuss the new contract.

We can't let this talented person go.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the Morning Star's editorial office was far less cheerful.

Braden slammed a blue pencil down on his desk with a loud thud.

"I'm so angry!"

Braden's chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath; he was clearly in a hurry.

His eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at the editors before him, his roar echoing in the small space, "Has things really come to this?"

The editors fell silent, none daring to utter a sound. They knew their boss was furious, and anything they said would only add fuel to the fire.

"Everyone's lying to me, even the editor-in-chief!" He slowly stood up and circled his desk. "And those writers who take our royalties and write garbage, they're all useless!"

Sean: "President, you shouldn't insult the writers who have worked so hard for our newspaper, even if their abilities are indeed limited..."

"Useless trash, good-for-nothing, scum, garbage maker, royalty thief!" Braden clearly didn't listen to Sean. "I'm so angry!"

"You call yourselves editors just because you spent a few years in humanities majors and all you learned was how to eat with a knife and fork! The editorial team has only ever hindered my work! They've only ever tried to hold me back in various ways! I should have fired you all a long time ago!"

Sean touched his collar, unable to listen any longer. "President, what you're saying is truly unheard of."

I told him long ago that this approach wouldn't work and could very well have the opposite effect of publicity. He didn't listen to me then, and now that things have turned out like this, he still has the nerve to criticize us?

Sean had a good heart. Even setting aside the previous decision-making mistakes, now that things had come to this, he should have thought about how to deal with the situation, instead of acting like this incompetent and furious, rambling on and on about shifting blame.

It's truly a great misfortune for the Morning Star to have such a boss who came out of nowhere.

Is this fate?

……

A bold idea came to Samuel's mind.

He was sitting in a cheap rental room where he had lived for five years, with a copy of the Lentinion Weekly spread out in front of him.

"I see... there's such a way to do it..."

It's hard to say exactly what Samuel did for a living. Sometimes he wrote juicy gossip for newspapers, sometimes he did bookkeeping at the docks, and most of the time he did petty theft and other service industry jobs.

He had a wife, but she left him three years ago and eloped with an insurance salesman, leaving him alone in a dilapidated rental room with only a few pieces of old furniture.

Samuel rose and paced back and forth in the small room, his steps light, as if afraid of disturbing something. At the same time, his mind was racing, and he could feel a tremendous wisdom brewing within him.

A million-pound banknote, a millionaire mistaken for a beggar, a story about money and humanity...

"If..." He stopped and looked out at the gray sky, "if someone really had a million-pound note and pretended to be a pauper..."

This idea began to grow wildly in his mind like weeds.

He had no doubt that if someone actually had a million-dollar bill, everything in the book would actually happen.

But where do you get this kind of thing? If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't be here right now...

No, perhaps it doesn't actually need to be a million pounds; it's enough if everyone believes I have it.

However, at the very beginning of the story, Mr. Adam did show off that million-dollar bill; you can't just rely on words alone...

Samuel recalled a friend he'd met last year while working at the docks. This man specialized in forging documents, his skills so refined that even the police couldn't tell the difference. He'd mentioned that he could also draw banknotes, but drawing too many was too time-consuming and laborious, while drawing too few was pointless, and besides, people still preferred traditional metal currency…

In reality, the Bank of Britannia has never issued banknotes with such a large denomination; the largest denomination seems to be only 100 gold pounds...

His thoughts became clearer and clearer, and a plan was taking shape.

Using a fake 100-yuan banknote, they impersonate a wealthy person with unusual hobbies and swindle "investments" from them.

To minimize the risk of accidents, avoid areas frequented by worldly businessmen or the middle class. The East Side is teeming with people from the lower classes, yearning for overnight riches; people like him struggling in the mire of life yet still dreaming of striking it rich.

The amount doesn't need to be too large, whether it's a few guls or a few as, the key is that each person contributes a little, accumulating small amounts into a large sum, and then stopping in time, running away before being exposed.

Such a tactic would never have worked before; no one would have believed that a person dressed in shabby clothes and with a dirty face could be a wealthy man. If such a person pulled out a large bill, people would only assume it was stolen.

But things are different now. Everyone is reading The Millionaires List. Samuel learned that because of the criticism from many magazines, even some big shots have started reading it.

So, it makes sense that a wealthy man with an eccentric personality would like this story so much that he decides to put it into practice by pretending to be a homeless person, just to experience the feeling of being looked down upon by people and then having his life turned around.

Then this eccentric tycoon was so happy that he decided to tell you some money-making tips and symbolically charge you a small amount of money, which is quite reasonable, isn't it?

Lentinion is too big, big enough to easily swallow up an "entrepreneur" or allow an "entrepreneur" to easily change their identity.

Samuel didn't think he was cheating; he was simply learning how to earn rewards in this unfair world through wisdom rather than so-called hard work.

Those who toil at the docks and in the mines are impoverished, while those who work with their "wisdom" in law firms and insurance companies are rolling in money.

Countless dramas unfold in this city every day. Some people take the stage, some take their final bow. Some become rich overnight, some lose everything, some are cunning and ruthless, and some work diligently but suffer endless pain.

People who work in law firms and insurance companies start businesses through lies and fraud, and that's called "wisdom" and "courage." So why can't I do the same?