The truth was clear:
Having connections made all the difference.
Even if those connections were fabricated, they could still bring unimaginable benefits.
If it hadn't been for the supposed "relationship" with the Leveau family,
Louis would never have fought so hard on his behalf —
would never have bent over backwards to erase his "spy suspicion."
Even though the whole thing was just a bluff,
To Louis, this young man before him wasn't just a casual acquaintance of the ambassador's wife — he was the scion of a wealthy Southeast Asian family.
And such people deserved more than just polite treatnt — they were worth cultivating.
Forming a bond now with a "fallen" heir to a Southeast Asian fortune was, without doubt, a wise investnt. In politics or business, it could only be an advantage.
Thus, carrying these calculations in mind, Louis personally escorted his newly adopted "cousin" to an apartnt the embassy rented long-term.
"Brother, I apologize — the accommodations here are a bit modest.
Please bear with it for a while.
Once the ambassador and Mada Leveau return, we can make more proper arrangents."
Opening the door, his voice was full of apologetic warmth.
"Brother, you mustn't say that!"
Pierre quickly replied, bowing deeply.
"A refugee like — to have a roof over my head in London is already a blessing. If it weren't for you, Brother, I wouldn't even have a place to stay tonight."
As he spoke, he bowed again, gratitude written plainly across his face.
You're damn right you should be grateful, Louis thought privately, though he quickly waved it off with a smile:
"Ah, don't be so formal — we share the sa surna! We're family! Who else would I help if not my own kin?"
Patting Pierre on the shoulder, he continued:
"You must be exhausted. A whole night being grilled by those foreigners... Get so rest. I'll head back to the embassy to file a report — and I'll get your temporary identification sorted."
"As for your passport... we'll have to wait until the ambassador returns."
Efficient and decisive, Louis didn't linger for small talk. After all, there would be plenty of chances to build their "relationship" later.
Having a background... really made life easy.
Watching the enthusiastic "elder brother" leave, Pierre couldn't help but sigh internally. Just yesterday, he had been worrying about identification, shelter, survival.
And now?
Problem solved.
"Brother, thank you for your trouble," he said earnestly, bowing again.
"Enough, enough — no more of this politeness!" Louis laughed, wagging a finger at him.
"Get so sleep first. Oh, and one more thing—"
Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly rembered sothing.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small booklet.
"This is my ration book — you should use it for now."
Before Pierre could protest, the little booklet was stuffed into his hands.
"This... how could I possibly accept, Brother? What will you eat without it?"
"You're calling Brother now, aren't you?" Louis chuckled. "Don't be silly. The embassy has its own supplies. I eat there most days — I don't need this. You take it."
He deliberately emphasized:
"This ration card is also a form of ID. It's issued to diplomatic staff. If you get stopped by the police, flash this — you'll be fine. Makes it much safer for you to move around."
Then he added jokingly:
"Without it, how would you eat? What, planning to get arrested again? Or maybe... scam so poor girl out of her food?"
Laughing at his own joke, he waved goodbye.
Before Pierre could say another word, the door slamd shut.
Listening to the sound of retreating footsteps down the corridor, Pierre looked down at the ration book in his hands.
He couldn't help but murmur:
"Good man."
Truly, a good man.
As he was still basking in gratitude, the system's translucent screen popped up again:
[By successfully persuading soone to help you, and securing free lodging, you have gained 20 experience points!]
Whoa!
That much?
Then again, it made sense — London rent was sky-high. Getting a free apartnt just by talking was no small feat.
Another line popped up:
[Attribute function unlocked. Would you like to view?]
Naturally, Pierre chose to view it imdiately.
Information scrolled across the screen:
Current Skills:
– Business Acun: Lv1
– Psychology: Lv1
– Business Administration: Lv2
Seeing the last item, Pierre's mouth twitched in a complicated expression.
Business Acun and Psychology were gifts from the system. But Business Administration — that ca from his old university major.
And it had been rated Level 2.
What good is that going to do now? he thought ruefully.
"I must've been out of my mind to major in Business Administration. If I'd studied pharmacology — or even veterinary dicine — I could be inventing penicillin right now and making a fortune!"
Despite the complaints, he couldn't deny the real source of excitent:
These skills could be leveled up!
Which ant: the more he developed his skills, the more powerful the system's functions would beco.
At the thought, Pierre's fists clenched in anticipation.
Looking over his skills, he noted that Business Administration was already at Lv2 — if he could find a way to raise it even higher...
The future was wide open.
But... Business Administration?
Where would he even find a business to manage right now?
No choice.
He would have to focus on business and trading first.
Setting his plan, he exited the system.
Sitting back on the sofa, he stared blankly at the ceiling, mapping out ways to improve his Business Acun skill.
Because this skill wasn't just about unlocking system features — it would determine his real survival.
True, he now had shelter — but it was only temporary.
According to the article he'd once read, Mada Leveau would return to London in December.
That gave him seven months.
Seven months to build himself up, to turn himself into soone worthy of being recognized.
No one liked a poor relative. That was human nature.
He walked to the window, gazing out over London.
Was it a city of opportunities? Or a city full of dangers?
He couldn't tell.
But one thing he knew for certain:
He couldn't stay hidden here forever.
Taking a deep breath, Pierre whispered to himself:
"Alright, London... Here I co."
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