Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire

Auction House(1)

“Whoa.”

“Hey Hansel, your mouth will tear.”

Seeing me wake up late the next morning, Mr. Miller, who was eating, bruised.

Umm, I’m angry… Originally, it should be the opposite.

That man, since it’s hard to get up by himself, he always asks me to look for his clothes.

Besides, I didn’t wake up late because I wanted to wake up late. I protested with resentment.

“I never thought the streets of London would get dark so quickly at night.”

“So, didn’t I tell you to come early? Wouldn’t it be nice to leave me alone and go out to play?”

No, why alone? Alone!

I gave Mr. Miller, who was reprimanding me with sad eyes, a look of loss in reverse. This townhouse obviously has a hired maid.

“Anyway, get ready quickly. I can barely hit it now.”

“All right.”

As I entered the dressing room and tried to change into a suit, I saw the headline of today’s newspaper delivered in the morning.

Hmm, let’s see. ‘Aaron Kosminski, a hairdresser from Poland, arrested in a psychiatric ward for the Whitechapel serial killings’.

“Oh, the world is so ugly.”

Well, it’s good that you got arrested.

It wasn’t even a story related to me right away, so I turned off my mind.

Today’s itinerary is Christie’s Auction House.

It was a battlefield where the art auction, the main event of the year, would take place.

***

Christie’s Auction House, King Street, St. James.

It is still the headquarters of the famous Christie’s Auction House.

Sotheby’s? They’re just second-hand bookstores by now. Maybe it’s Al X Dean’s aid.

“Yes, Hansel. What we need to save this time… Cezanne and what?”

“Yes, Mr. Miller. This is Munch.”

“Ah, it was. The Norwegian artist, but I don’t think the artist’s paintings are spirited? What kind of picture is so gloomy and depressing. Looking at it makes me feel like I’m going to get a mental illness.”

Can you hit me with a giant fact? I couldn’t argue with Mr. Miller’s whining, so I could only ask him to believe me like a drug dealer.

No, honestly, watch something like ＜The Scream＞. It’s so dull and bizarre that I don’t understand why it popped up, isn’t it?

At least that’s how it seems to me as a culprit who doesn’t have anything artistic in painting.

…but it’s certain that it floats anyway.

To be honest, I don’t know Cézanne, but there are many people who know Munch, right? So I had no choice but to say this.

“Trust me. It will definitely float.”

“Well, since it’s you, I believe it… but I need at least a plausible reason to relieve my anxiety.”

“Explaining what that means doesn’t appeal to me.”

I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. But really, that’s all I can say.

In fact, the original writing is like that, but the picture side is steamed and unchilgisam.

It’s a neighborhood where good things don’t necessarily get recognized. Sometimes this is more than stock.

So, all I can do is tell you from a perspective from the future who the winner will be.

Grab some soybean paste and eat it. lol.

While I was slightly avoiding Mr. Miller’s reproachful gaze, well-dressed nobles recognized Mr. Miller and began approaching one by one.

“Mr. Miller! I hope to see you after a long time.”

“Aren’t you Lord Cadogan? It’s been intense.”

“Gee, you’re not the big hand in Devon who controls the British art industry. hahahaha, please be gentle today.”

“If Mr. Ferdinand said that, what would I be? Don’t tease me too much.”

It’s shiny. From a distance, I watched the high-class people exchange greetings.

As is the case even in the 21st century, these art auctions are more often than not just buying and selling paintings in real life, but also socializing venues where super-wealthy people get to know each other and build personal connections.

Even now. Lord Cadogan is a British senator with an earldom, and Ferdinand is a member of the Rothschild family.

In finance-related conspiracy theories, even Morgan is right for Rothschild.

Look at their faces, people with cute faces flowing from their nice-looking faces start to gather one after another.

“Sheesh, on the subject of keeping the colonized area.”

“I can’t help it. Because that person won the most these days.”

“It’s like getting rich quick.”

And when a top-ranking group is formed like that, people who are comparable to that group always gather hard and gossip at the top.

The target this time is, of course, Mr. Miller. I’m from America and I don’t come to London often. In the social world, it is bound to be full of weaknesses.

Well, not bad. Just as malicious comments are bound to run on good works, these attacks, on the contrary, are proof that Mr. Miller’s business is thriving.

It’s similar to dung flies flocking to delicious food.

of course.

“Chemm.”

“······Sheesh!”

“What, what is that monkey…”

“Okay, come out.”

But what’s the point of just letting it buzz in front of your eyes? It’s less unpleasant if you clean it properly.

I sneered at the dung flies as the monkey cleared his throat and ran away.

It wasn’t the attacker himself, he was afraid of being overheard by the servant, and said he was so good at it.

Someone came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder.

“You are still loyal, Banana.”

“Are you still a foot wiper? Ju.”

His name is Samuel Cohen. You can tell from his first and last name, but he’s Jewish. It’s that Rothschild servant over there.

A group is created when there are more than three people.

Just as the richest people in the top ranks know each other, the attendants, servants, and secretaries who follow them directly often secretly know each other.

It’s a little bit like a community between the servants of the Grand House, bad friends… but it should be seen as similar to exchanging business cards between managers at large corporations.

In particular, since the Rothschild side was a Jew who was discriminated against like this side, it approached me without much burden, even to Mr. Miller, an American, and me, an Asian.

Of course, you should be more careful since they can betray you without much pressure.

“By the way, what is it? Guys, if it was a problem that could be solved in England, didn’t you just send an agent to solve it?”

“They say there’s a royal wedding, so I’ll have to see that.”

“What nonsense are you guys talking about? Aren’t you throwing it into the sea like a tea box?”

“They’re Anglo-Saxon bourgeois, and I’m an Asian asshole.”

“Uh, look at this bourgeois swearing red.”

“If a Jew says something like Asians are red, I’ll believe you.”

Oh, I like it. As expected, the conversation needs to be mixed with a bit of thick profanity to ease the stomach. Conversation with dignified gentlemen is good, but… that’s kind of business-like, right?

“So, are the kids in that house growing up well?”

“He’s growing and growing like a foal. Wait, can I show you a picture?”

“Okay, then I’ll give you a gift later, so just accept it.”

“What gift? Are you from the Rothschilds?”

“of course. What kind of money do I have to send a gift? So, what was that? Was it Peter Perry…”

“Cool.”

no, why is that here?

Not even noticing my embarrassment, this blind-eyed Jew said calmly.

“Uh, what was it? The author’s name is similar to yours. So it was interesting, so I recommended it.”

“it’s okay. Not required.”

“why. Do you already have one at your house?”

“Similar.”

I skipped it so bluntly.

In fact, all the servants at Mr. Miller’s house in Torquay know that I am the author of Peter Perry. But that’s only half the family, so it’s better not to know anything else.

It’s not just racism or anything like that… It’s just that I’m embarrassed.

Bad guys like Sam reading my books in front of me? I’d rather die

“Rather than that, do you guys have any news? Your old man, it’s been 30 years since he was hurt.”

“I don’t know. He said he would pass it on to his sister.”

“That’s why there are rumors of a porch merger. That Alice or Rothschild lady is also unmarried?”

“What do nobles like? Anyway, so instead of s*xual desire, he said he would secure three ‘bottles’ this time, saying he would satisfy his collecting desire.”

Ha, this guy. He already wants to talk about business.

I asked while licking my lips.

“Are these the things that ‘old friends’ sold out this time?”

“maybe. What are you? ‘Fireplace?’ Or ‘falcon’?”

“ok. I will only buy ‘new’.”

“Ha, your touch is so good… So, what about ‘waves’?”

“Roughly… one ‘rope’ and three ‘wheels’?”

“Sweep, there are a lot of mistakes. i get it. Then I’ll tell you to leave.”

“Oh come on, thank you.”

Me and Sam completed the deal with a satisfied face. Simply put, this is collusion.

Ferdinand de Rothschild is a collector, but his hobby is fundamentally focused on decorative arts such as bottles, terracotta. Among them, I like old friends, the items of the Renaissance the most.

On the other hand, Mr. Miller specializes in paintings that include stoves and hawks… that is, Eastern and Western paintings. Among them, the ‘bird’ I mentioned refers to the latest works from the 19th century.

Waves are funds, followed by the amount of funds.

In this way, each other’s target and magazine information is properly exchanged, and each other’s target is not touched.

This is how to spend wisely at the auction house.

and the result.

“Next is the still life painting ＜Still Life with a Plate of Apples＞ by French artist Paul Cézanne. We’ll start at £2,000. Two thousand pounds, don’t you?”

“Three thousand pounds.”

“Three thousand pounds, next… yes. It’s a three thousand pound winning bid.”

very easy.

“This is the same artist’s ＜Marseille Bay Viewed from Estac＞. ＜Gulf of Marseille seen from Estac＞. Do you have any—”

“Two thousand five hundred pounds!”

“Twenty-five hundred pounds, winning bid.”

was able to hit the target. And today’s big fish.

From noble mtl dot com

“Next is The Scream by Edvard Munch, a Norwegian painter. I’ll start with two thousand pounds…”

“Five thousand pounds!”

“……Five thousand pounds! Five thousand pounds came out. Any other amount?”

Silence. On the contrary, people from all walks of life are looking at Mr. Miller with astonishment.

That would be the case, because what the hell is that living cadaveric painting worth £5,000 for? Even Mr. Miller’s slightly shaking eyes are anxious eyes.

But… hehehehe. Let’s see, Mr. Miller. This is a net exhaust that soars to a whopping $200 million.

“Hmph, your eye for pictures is really poor. To buy such a painting for £5,000.”

I turned my head at the blatant insult.

There, a young and handsome-looking young officer was glaring this way.

what is this guy?

“When it comes to painting, of course it is Impressionism. joy! A writer named Cézanne was a bit decent, but at least he was a mere imitation of Camille Pissarro.”

What is this, I don’t know?

Is he a guy who became a soldier after dropping out of an art college?