Chapter 168: Chapter 168
Jenkins believed that keeping his gold pounds in the church was akin to renting a safe deposit box. It was secure, but the money wasn't making more money. While the current inflation rate was still acceptable, the upward trend of prices showed no sign of stopping. Leaving his gold to devalue in a safe or at Travelers' Bank was absolutely the wrong idea.
"Are you thinking of investing in something? You could consider a seafaring expedition. They can find precious spices in the outer seas, and those things are worth their weight in gold."
Papa Oliver suggested.
"What about investing in mining, then? It's a hot industry right now. A small gold mine doesn't require much capital, so it wouldn't be a great loss even if it failed. I have some connections you could look into."
"Too much trouble. To legally invest in mining, you need to go to Bel Diran and get a complicated set of credentials to prove you're not a fraud. There are so many scammers these days... And while I'm still young, it's better to be prudent with my investments."
"Well, you'll have to figure it out yourself, then. There might be safe investments out there, but you might as well just deposit your money in Travelers' Bank. In my opinion, those people who play with numbers"—referring to early bankers and financiers—"and make money from money are the real scammers."
"...I understand. Perhaps I can find some industrial companies that are taking on cash investments, or I could read the papers. Maybe some inventors need the backing of gold pounds."
He could run a simple Ponzi scheme himself, but now he had a legitimate identity and a bright future. After some thought, he decided there was no need to scam people just for the sake of greed.
No, a Ponzi scheme couldn't even be defined as fraud in this world yet, because there was no law against it.
"What a wonderful era."
He muttered under his breath as he continued his work. Chocolate, who was curled up into a ball of fur nearby, lifted her head slightly, her small cat ears twitching, before flopping back down.
As the weather turned cold, even the cat didn't feel like moving much. On Wednesday of that week, the steam pipe company had published its annual winter heating notice in the *Nolan Daily*, urging citizens to have heating pipes installed in their homes.
As for the pipes used for daily utilities, they didn't have a heating effect because they needed to maintain the pressure and temperature within the lines.
Papa Oliver's shop didn't have central heating; instead, he had a fire going in the fireplace.
Now, when you entered the antique shop, the warm firelight illuminated rows of metalware on the shelves, while the scattered porcelain and lacquer pieces gave off an alluring sheen. The swords, animal heads, and badges hanging on the walls cast long shadows in the glow of the hearth, swaying gently with every crackle of the burning wood.
"Now this is the atmosphere a professional antique shop should have."
Papa Oliver was quite pleased with this, though it was unclear if he was proud of his decor or of saving a fortune on heating bills.
Yes, winter heating was extremely expensive, and even Jenkins was unwilling to use it.
Since he lived alone, he had already decided to sleep on the sofa in his living room for the winter. It had a fireplace, a wool rug, and was conveniently close to the washroom, the kitchen, the ground-floor study, and the front door—perfect for getting through the cold months.
When he had nothing to do at night, he could curl up alone in a blanket on the rug, the firelight illuminating the book in front of him. If he got tired, he could stroke Chocolate, causing the sleeping cat to grumble and burrow deeper into the covers.
This was the decent life a transmigrator deserved.
If guests were to visit, he could tidy up beforehand and set everything back afterward. That way, he could maintain his dignity and satisfy the demands of social etiquette.
Besides, it was highly unlikely that anyone would visit Jenkins.
Jenkins was also reading the two books Mary had sent him, which gave him a preliminary understanding of the state of mathematics in this world. To be specific, the completed *Probability and Mathematical Statistics* was much simpler than the probability theory he had studied in a polytechnic university before transmigration. The development of calculus was insufficient, rendering many tools unusable. Meanwhile, *An Introduction to Higher Mathematics* was nearly on par with the first half of a non-math major's university mathematics textbook. There were some minor issues, which Jenkins patiently corrected directly in the book with a pen.
The development of calculus was still in its infancy, and multi-dimensional space was only mentioned briefly, with most of the content coming from what Jenkins had written in his last letter.
He had originally planned to add more, but then decided it wasn't necessary. He would let the mathematicians of this world explore it at their own pace.
Sometimes, while idly playing with his cat, Jenkins would ponder the meaning of all this, only to conclude that not everything needed to have a purpose—it was enough for it to be interesting.
His plan to increase his spirit through Astral Perception had not yet begun, because the materials for the perception-enhancing ritual Papa Oliver had taught him were not so easy to acquire.
On Saturday evening, as he was leaving Pops Antique Shop, Papa Oliver informed Jenkins that he was to accompany him on an outing the next day.
That night, Jenkins took stock of his belongings, equipping his weapons and any materials he might need. He took auxiliary items like the Magical Conch whenever possible, but left larger ones, such as Mr. Hunt's Fruit Platter, at home.
During his preparations, a small incident occurred. As he was considering how to preserve the vial of dragon's blood and prevent it from spoiling, Chocolate, who had been lying on the bed, suddenly shot up. She bumped Jenkins's wrist with her little head, and the sealed wooden vial fell straight toward the floor—only to be snatched out of the air by Jenkins's other hand.
"Easy now, we'll rest soon." ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novel·fire.net
He soothed the black-and-white kitten rubbing against his trousers and lifted her onto the bed. Then he brightened the bronze, basket-like desk lamp, turned his chair to face the desk, leaned forward slightly, and gripped the wooden vial in his left hand, pulling at the cork with his right. He was curious to see what dragon's blood looked like; the light in the morgue that day had been too dim for a proper look.
Evidently, the vial's previous owner had been extremely cautious, having wedged the cork in very tightly to prevent any leakage.
Taking a deep breath, he gave a hard pull with his right hand, and the vial flew out of his left. Jenkins instinctively reached to catch it, but only succeeded in batting it further away.
Chocolate leaped into the air, catching the vial in her mouth like a dog. She landed safely on the bed, then, with a twitch of her tail, presented the vial to Jenkins, her amber, slit-pupiled eyes glowing with pride.