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In people’s eyes, the 19th district of Paris is synonymous with "poverty" and "chaos."

The sky here is always gloomy, perpetually filled with smoke drifting in from who knows where, and the air is suffused with strange odors. The only consolation is that the slls constantly change, sotis even carrying a pleasant fragrance, allowing those who live here to deeply understand what "life with many flavors" ans.

The sound of church bells, rain, and the bustle of the market downstairs drift into Kobudo’s ssy single room. Awoken by the noise, he turns over and glances at the clock hanging on the wall—ten in the morning.

After a mont of daze, he rembers that he has resigned, and heavily lies back down on the bed.

Usually, at this ti, he would be rushing around sowhere chasing hot topics. Now all he can do is wait for a phone call.

There is a knock at the door. Kobudo tilts his head slightly and quickly decides to pretend he is out and remain silent. He suspects it’s Mrs. Cloey coming to collect the rent.

After knocking for a while without a response, Mrs. Cloey loudly shouts from outside the door, "I know you’re in there, Kobudo. If you don’t pay the rent soon, I’ll have to ask you to leave!"

After a pause, Mrs. Cloey emphasizes again, "I’ll give you three days."

Kobudo weakly closes his eyes and covers his head with the blanket.

As a journalist, he perhaps shouldn’t be so downtrodden. After all, journalists have a base salary of 25 francs, with extra rewards if their articles are published. If he’s lucky, he can earn up to 45 francs a month, which is quite substantial.

However, living in this area full of exhaust fus and sewage cos at a price. His eight-year-old child has developed asthma and needs long-term dication and treatnt. To avoid the bad air, he had to send his wife and child back to the countryside.

Thus, all the burdens fall on Kobudo’s shoulders.

Living expenses, dical bills, rent, electricity... Each month they fly at him like a recurring nightmare.

And he has resigned!

Was this really a wise choice, or a montary impulse that will drag his family into the abyss?

The phone rings suddenly. Kobudo abruptly pulls the blanket off, confirming the ringing before leaping up and rushing to the phone like he was pricked by a needle.

Just as he is about to pick up the receiver, he quickly retracts his hand, nervously wiping his face to clear his thoughts before cautiously answering the call.

Disappointnt instantly fills his face—it’s still Mrs. Cloey. She has found a more effective way to "harass" him.

After hanging up the phone, Kobudo sits there dazed for a while, then suddenly bows his head and begins to cry bitterly.

He has endured too much helplessness, holding on insistently, but nothing has improved; it has all worsened. What should he do?

The phone rings again. Impatiently, Kobudo grabs the phone and shouts, "I know, Mrs. Cloey. You win. I’ll move out tomorrow..."

"What moving out?" a crisp, slightly immature male voice cos from the other end.

Kobudo’s eyes instantly brighten: "Mr. Shire?"

After a mont of surprise, Kobudo quickly changes his tone: "No, no, my apologies, Mr. Shire. I thought... it was soone else. But that’s not important..."

"One issue, Mr. Kobudo," Shire said nonchalantly, "It seems there was a bit of a mishap with your suggestion last ti!"

Kobudo’s heart sank again. Although he was still holding the receiver, his head felt so heavy that he needed to hold it up with his hand.

"I believe we shouldn’t be starting an ordinary newspaper!" Shire’s calm voice ca from the receiver, "We need a military newspaper. I wonder if you’re interested."

Kobudo raised his head sharply, his eyes regaining their vitality. He excitedly answered, "Of course... Mr. Shire, are you sure? Are you sure about starting a military newspaper?"

As a military columnist, Kobudo understands the significance of a military newspaper. It holds a unique position, especially during warti.

France hasn’t yet established a military newspaper because small and dium capitalists lack the financial resources and qualifications, while large capitalists with qualifications find it unnecessary; they can control the army through parliant and equipnt.

Shire has the financial resources, military background, popularity, and prestige. He also has significant influence in the military, making the establishnt of a military newspaper highly promising!

"Absolutely!" Shire confird over the phone, "However, there’s one more issue. If it’s a military newspaper, we might issue you a conscription order. If you have any objections..."

"No, no, Mr. Shire!" Kobudo imdiately agreed, "I have no objections. I feel honored!"

Indeed, Kobudo knows well that if he doesn’t accept, he would eventually receive a conscription order to serve as a regular infantryman with a rifle on the battlefield.

By accepting, he would receive entirely different treatnt—only a fool would refuse!

Sure enough, Shire continued, "If there’s no problem with that, you’ll be responsible for it. You’ll beco a lieutenant, receive a 60-franc allowance, and I will also pay you 40 francs monthly as the editor-in-chief’s salary. Additionally, there’s extra rewards for published articles. If there are no issues, you can report to the City Defense Headquarters tomorrow..."

"I’ll report this afternoon, sir!" Kobudo exclaid, widening his eyes, "Is that acceptable?"

"Of course, sir!" Shire replied, "We have urgent matters; the sooner, the better!"

After hanging up the phone, Kobudo excitedly leapt up. He neurotically twisted around to vent his excitent, then grabbed the phone again:

"Please connect to Mobivick Town, Mr. Graton? Yes, thank you!"

"Mr. Graton, could you please call Elisa for ? Thank you very much!"

Graton is the local physician and one of the few people in Mobivick Town with a phone. He is helpful and nearby, and Kobudo always contacts his wife through him in urgent matters.

Before long, a worried voice from his wife ca through the phone: "It’s , Kobudo. Are you okay?"

"I’m fine, Elisa!" Kobudo exclaid excitedly, "Do you know Shire?"

"Yes, I’ve heard a lot about him. He’s a hero of France."

"Can you believe it?" Kobudo’s voice trembled, "I’m going to work for him!"

"Really, that’s wonderful! You’ll be his journalist?"

"No, no!" Kobudo’s eyes reddened with excitent, "I’ll be his editor-in-chief, Elisa, I’m Shire’s editor-in-chief!"

"Editor-in-chief? What’s that?"

"The person in charge of the newspaper!" Kobudo explained, "I’ll have many journalists under , and I’ll be responsible for everything. I’ll earn a base salary of 100 francs..."

"100 francs!" Elisa exclaid over the phone, "Did I hear that right? Is it every month?"

"Absolutely!" Kobudo nodded excitedly, "You heard right. Everything will get better, Elisa! I’ll soon bring you to Paris. We should... Find a place in the 15th district; Jeremy’s health will improve!"

The other end of the phone suddenly fell silent, only a faint sound of sobbing could be heard. Kobudo’s nose also twitched uncontrollably.

You are reading I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France Chapter 164: Is This Really a Wise Choice? on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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