Chapter 29: Dinner at the Walter Household

After finalizing the dinner plans with Lorina for eight o'clock, York found himself facing a new predicament.

York was truly a penniless lad. Renting a cramped, dilapidated apartment on the second floor of Labor Street cost him 45 francs a month, and the basic necessities of life in Paris—food, clothing, and transportation—would easily consume another 30 francs. With a salary of only 90 francs, from which his employer, Freck, would regularly deduct portions, he was now living beyond his means. Moreover, to be a guest in a wealthy household like Lorina's, he required a respectable outfit.

However, he already had a plan for this.

Returning to the locker room, Iverson, who had been beaten unconscious, still lay on the floor. A few bloody teeth had fallen from his mouth, making for a miserable sight. Several coaches looked at Iverson's pathetic state, hesitating whether to call a doctor, but York approached and dispelled that notion.

Without a shred of mercy, York grabbed Iverson by his short hair and dragged him to the washbasin. He turned on the tap, and once the water level had risen sufficiently, he shoved Iverson's face entirely into the basin.

"Mmph—mmph!"

The sensation of water entering his nasal cavity was, of course, enough to wake anyone instantly. Iverson tried to struggle, but the large hand clamped onto the back of his neck was so powerful and steady that he couldn't even lift his head. For a moment, he genuinely feared that York intended to kill him.

However, York had no intention of killing him just yet; he merely wanted to wake Iverson up and extinguish any desire to resist. He then let him go.

"Have mercy, sir," Iverson murmured, his eyes closed, his speech slurred through his missing teeth. Water dripped down into his collar, making him look like a clumsy, drowned dog.

"Hand over all the money you have," York said, cutting straight to the point. He had no interest in idle talk.

Iverson dared not refuse. He had just returned from Madame Anna's, and he did indeed have a few gold Louis on him. Alas! This was money he had earned through sheer, grueling labor! A single gold Louis was equivalent to twenty francs; Madame Anna was indeed generous.

York took all the gold coins, leaving none behind, and then beckoned to the fencing coaches who were hiding and watching from a distance, signaling them to come over. Given Iverson's example, these coaches naturally dared not defy him. In the world of men, violence was the universal rule; whoever had the biggest fist was the one to be obeyed.

"Take this gold Louis and use it to take Iverson to the hospital. You can split the rest among yourselves. I don't want any trouble, but if I do have trouble, then everyone will have trouble."

As he spoke, he revealed the firearm at his waist. Everyone nodded in fearful succession. With the matter settled, York walked away with the money, eager to rent a decent set of clothes.

...

As night fell, Mr. Walter sat at the dinner table, observing the guest his daughter had invited with a cold, detached gaze.

This... fencing coach. Although his profession wasn't considered low-class—it was, in fact, more respectable than that of a riding instructor—his income was truly meager; otherwise, his clothes wouldn't be so cheap. As a Jew and the owner of a newspaper, Walter did not approve of his daughter keeping such low-status company. He knew well that even though there was no emperor now, aristocrats and wealthy tycoons still existed, and befriending them was the true path to entering high society.

However, no matter how cynical he felt, Walter had to admit that this "pretty friend" his daughter had brought home was truly handsome, possessing a certain air that reminded him of his own youth.

"Let us raise our glasses to the arrival of our new friend."

Mr. Walter issued the invitation. His wife immediately raised her glass, and Lorina followed suit, looking at York with affectionate eyes. This left Duroy, who was also attending the dinner, feeling rather displeased.

Duroy was an old friend of Walter’s from their time serving in Africa. Having reunited after a long time, Walter had naturally invited him to dinner, but as luck would have it, Lorina had brought a friend today. In truth, Duroy was also a handsome man, but compared to York, he lacked a certain youthful flair and the mysterious aura that this foreign visitor possessed. Consequently, the Walter family kept their attention almost entirely on York, leaving Duroy feeling neglected.

After the toast, Mr. Walter, as the host, naturally sought to introduce a topic to liven up the conversation. As the owner of *La Vie Française* and editor-in-chief of its political section, the topics he chose were always related to French politics. This was also his subtle technique for gauging the cultural level of his guests. If they lacked knowledge, they would be unable to participate in the discussion, appearing awkward and thereby highlighting the superiority and profound intellectual depth of the Walter family.

"A wave is rising in the Chamber of Deputies. Everyone is discussing the policy direction for colonizing Algeria. It is truly a great dilemma. Some say we should establish a military society and distribute land to soldiers who have served for over thirty years."

"This view is very popular in the Chamber, but no one is an expert on Algeria, so the debates are endless. As a newspaper editor, I am often troubled by an inability to write an editorial that truly solves the problem, so I ask those around me for their opinions."

After wiping his mouth with a napkin, Mr. Walter threw out his question. It was clearly designed to favor his old friend, as Duroy and he had served in Algeria together.

"If you ask me, that view is the opinion of an outsider. Soldiers understand everything, but they know nothing of farming. They might be fine with swords and sabers, but the moment they pick up a hoe, they are fools. Let alone sowing or fertilizing—they are absolute laymen!" Duroy answered first, his dinner knife dancing in the air along with his excited speech.

"Rather than giving land to soldiers, it would be better to open the colonies to everyone. The shrewd and capable will carve out a place for themselves, while the useless will be eliminated. That is the truth of society!"

Listening to this, Walter nodded repeatedly; he clearly felt the same way. Once Duroy finished, Walter clinked glasses with him, drinking to his brilliant remarks. Afterward, the two of them cast their gazes toward York, as if compelling him to say something.

As for York, he was currently studying the furniture in the Walter home. He had to admit that Walter was indeed very wealthy. The plates and candlesticks were silver; the dining room was on the second floor, reached via a spiral staircase; an oil painting of the Sun King hung on the wall; velvet armchairs were the standard at the table; and exotic plants were displayed on windowsills and in hallways.

Seeing that York remained silent, Duroy felt a touch of contempt, convinced that the lad had no substance and would be incapable of offering any profound insights.

"Mr. York, what are your thoughts? We are all waiting for your expert opinion," Duroy pressed impatiently.

"I believe that instead of discussing who should be given the colonies, we should discuss what is actually worth having in the colonies."

"Oh? That is a line of reasoning I have never heard before." Mr. Walter was intrigued, his eyes fixed on York.

"Algeria lacks fertile farmland. The land there truly worth colonizing has long been bought up by major investors from Paris. The remaining barren lands are difficult enough to feed the Algerians themselves; how can one expect colonists to settle there?"

York lowered his eyelids, carefully cutting the beef on his plate. His mind was deep within the Abyssal Forum, reading, word for word, from a trending post titled: "Pretty Friend: An Analysis of the Algerian Region."