Chapter 84: Chapter 88: There is a Genuine Article
The old gentleman walked into the antique shop, curiously examining the surroundings—the aged display windows, the cheap iron shelves, and the so-called “antiques” almost randomly placed about—perfectly embodied the positioning of the shop:
In the entire store, except for the money taken, there wasn’t a single thing that wasn’t fake.
However, this elder gentleman, who didn’t at all resemble the common folks of the Lower City District, was still looking over the items in the shop with great interest until Duncan’s voice ca from the direction of the counter; only then did he finally turn his gaze.
“That’s an interesting saying,” the elder gentleman chuckled, “taking away what’s fated… Putting aside the objects themselves, the sentint is quite beautiful.”
“Actually, fate alone isn’t enough—you also need money,” Duncan returned the smile, “Fortunately, everything here is inexpensive—are there any items you wish to buy?”
“Um… I’m not here to buy anything,” the elder gentleman opened his mouth, “Actually…”
Before he could finish speaking, Duncan enthusiastically continued: “Whether you buy or not, it’s good to have a look around, maybe you’ll find sothing that catches your eye?”
The elder gentleman couldn’t help but show a hint of helplessness on his face: “These… your goods are all fakes.”
“I know,” said Duncan as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Real items wouldn’t be displayed here—my store doesn’t even have a security gate, it relies on the thieves not making a profit.”
The elder gentleman’s face twitched noticeably, probably never expecting such a candid attitude from the proprietor of a shop selling fake antiques, and it took him several seconds to respond: “Well…”
“Those who are good at self-persuasion see this place as an antique shop to fulfill themselves. Those who are realists treat it as a variety store, appreciating the value for money. And for those who are both in denial and in recognition of reality, I congratulate them on finding a gold brick in a pile of garbage. There’s only one real antique in the entire shop, and they happened to co across it—extrely fated. Anyway, the main point of spending thirty to fifty is for the happiness. Even if you’re majorly duped here, it won’t go over a hundred, and you still get a modern industrial creation. If you think about it, isn’t that also quite a good deal?”
The elder gentleman listened to Duncan’s twisted justifications, seemingly perplexed due to lack of social experience in this area, and then, suddenly, his gaze fell on a corner next to the counter, with a subtle change in his expression.
Duncan had been fully engrossed in the joy of doing business, but when he noticed the change in the elder gentleman’s gaze, his heart stirred, and he imdiately thought of sothing. Before he could speak up, he saw the elder gentleman reaching towards that corner: “This item…”
Among a pile of miscellaneous items, he had found an ancient-looking dagger, exceptionally well-preserved.
He took the dagger out.
It was the very object Duncan had earlier hidden in the pile of miscellaneous goods, an old relic from the ship Holoss—one of the only two genuine antiques in the entire store.
The other one was a cast-iron cannonball placed even deeper within the pile.
At first, Duncan had thought about diverting the elder gentleman’s attention, but then he noticed the change in the man’s expression and his professional deanor while examining the pattern on the dagger’s sheath; Duncan imdiately realized sothing:
This elder gentleman might be a “professional.”
Duncan furrowed his brow, his eyes sweeping over the dagger.
Actually, it wasn’t a big deal—this item was not a Transcendent object, nor did it carry a Curse or any such “sea-borne speciality.” Though it ca from the ship Holoss, in essence, it was no different from ordinary “antiques.”
An utterly ordinary item, and an overreaction would be suspicious.
“This item…” the elder gentleman repeated, raising his head to look at Duncan with so surprise, “Is it also one of the ‘goods’ in the store?”
The gentleman spoke euphemistically, but his implication was quite clear: How did a real item get mixed into this pile of fakes? Was it a mistake at work?
Seeing the elder gentleman’s reaction, Duncan guessed he was soone knowledgeable. At this point, playing dumb would be inappropriate; instead, a fitting acknowledgnt was due. So he toned down his smile, taking on an air of deep mystery: “You see, you’ve just encountered sothing destined for you.”
Then he cleared his throat, a serious look on his face: “Most items in the store are on sale, so exceptions apply—for instance, the one in your hands.”
The older gentleman imdiately turned around to glance at the shelves, his eyes sweeping over the “modern crafts” with price tags discounting from hundreds of thousands to just tens, and who knows what he imagined, but he imdiately found the seemingly rundown but intimidating antique shop to be mysterious and interesting. He carefully placed the dagger on the counter as if about to ask about the price, but just then, the sound of a bell chiming suddenly ca from the door, interrupting his action.
Duncan looked up towards the store entrance and saw Nina’s figure.
“Uncle Duncan, I’m back!” Nina called out to the direction of the counter without even lifting her head as she entered, “Has Mr. Morris arrived yet?”
“Haven’t seen him,” Duncan glanced around the inside of the shop, “I was just entertaining…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the elderly gentleman in front of him cleared his throat twice and then raised his hand, pointing to himself: “My na is Morris.”
Duncan: “…?”
“Mr. Morris!” Nina also noticed the elderly gentleman at the counter and exclaid in surprise, then she beca obviously nervous as every student who runs into a teacher after school would, snapping to attention and standing up straight, “Good afternoon!”
Duncan looked back and forth between Nina and the old man, his gaze shuttling between them twice, feeling the atmosphere finally turning awkward.
“I wanted to introduce myself from the start,” the older gentleman spread his hands helplessly, “but you interrupted before I could speak and then began to show the items in the store…”
Nina also realized what had happened and imdiately noticed the dusty-looking dagger on the counter, quickly stepping forward: “Teacher, don’t buy it! Everything in our shop is fake!”
Duncan looked at the girl with a peculiar expression, thinking to himself how incredibly honest this child was, selling out her family’s business in less than a second in front of her teacher—although given the quality of the goods in the shop and Morris’s expertise as a history scholar, it wouldn’t make a difference whether she sold them out or not…
On the other hand, Mr. Morris shook his head after hearing Nina’s words, pointing to the dagger on the counter: “This piece is real.”
Nina was stunned: “…Huh?”
“This dagger should be from a century ago and was one of the preferred tools and daggers of sailors from middle City-States like Rensa, but due to the closure of the forging workshops and the corrosion from sea storms on items at sea, there are very few in existence today, and most are in terrible condition…”
As Morris spoke, he carefully picked up the dagger from the counter, drawing the blade a little and continued with an astonished tone: “I… I have never seen one in such good condition. It’s as if it was still being used recently, with a blade sharp enough to slice paper, and not a single flaw throughout…”
“It even has its original scabbard,” Duncan added from the side, “If you look closely, you will find that even the buckle at the back of the scabbard is original.”
Upon hearing this, Morris quickly inspected the scabbard and fittings of the dagger with even more surprise in his eyes: “This… I really didn’t notice before… My goodness! It’s as if it was just taken from a sailor’s pocket from a century ago! If I weren’t so confident in my own judgnt, I’d almost suspect this to be an astonishing imitation… but it even has the pattern at the handle’s junction and a unique flaw at the end of the handle…”
He suddenly paused with a puzzled look, looked up at Duncan, then at Nina next to him, the history expert suddenly unsure: “It’s really not a fake?”
Hearing this, Nina quickly waved her hands: “Uncle can’t make sothing this real…”
Duncan’s eye twitched as he looked at his niece: “Go upstairs and do your howork!”
Nina was taken aback: “I don’t have howork today…”
“Then go read a book!”
Nina stuck out her tongue and took small steps towards the staircase, but after a few steps, she looked back at her history teacher: “Mr. Morris, don’t forget you’re here for a ho visit…”
“Of course, I have a lot to discuss with Mr. Duncan,” Morris said with a beaming smile, the elderly gentleman looking quite radiant, “Go upstairs and read—don’t worry, I won’t snitch on my students behind their backs.”
Nina looked puzzledly at Uncle Duncan and her teacher—she seed not to have expected this “ho visit” to start in such a manner.
But the next mont, she unexpectedly revealed a slight smile.
The girl ran lightly up the stairs.
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