RNP Chapter 304 Hugh's Dance Lessons and Sharon
Chapter 304 Hugh's Dance Lessons and Sharon
Chapter 304 Hugh's Dance Lessons and Sharon
Lorne went to a high-end clothing store to attend an upcoming charity gala.
As soon as he stepped inside, a waiter in a sharp uniform came to greet him, his gaze quickly sweeping over Lorne's clothes—a common black trench coat, no top hat—making him seem out of place among the store's clientele and clearly not a wealthy person.
"Sir, how can I help you?" The waiter forced a professional smile; his attitude wasn't bad, but it wasn't particularly enthusiastic either.
"I'd like to choose a formal suit," Lorne stated his purpose directly.
"Okay, please follow me." The salesperson led him to the ready-to-wear section, pointed to a row of clothes hanging on the wall, and casually picked up a suit jacket with a distinctive plaid pattern. "How about this one? Many fashionable young gentlemen like this style now."
"It's too... flashy." Lorne frowned slightly as he looked at the dress.
Formal wear in this era is mostly dominated by serious and somber dark colors. Although, the design of this garment is quite in line with his modern aesthetic.
The waiter smiled and said, "Sir, this is the current fashion trend. Why don't you give it a try?"
Lorne took the clothes and went into the fitting room. At that moment, the store owner came out from the back room. The sales assistant briefly reported the situation to the owner, who nodded, indicating that he had done the right thing and told him to quickly send this seemingly uninteresting customer away.
Lorne came out of the fitting room, looked in the mirror, and felt that she looked alright.
The shop owner, however, felt that the young man in front of him looked familiar, as if he had seen him in a recent newspaper.
"Alright, this is it. I'll just wear it." Lorne was fairly satisfied with himself in the mirror and decided not to bother with anything else.
"Yes, sir. That'll be £7.10 shillings in total," the waiter said.
Lorne took out his wallet and paid.
He straightened the collar of his new clothes and muttered to himself, "I'll wear this to deal with those reporters."
"A reporter!" The boss keenly caught the word. He quickly walked to Lorne's side and tentatively asked, "Sir, you just said—a reporter?"
"Yes." Lorne nodded.
"Have I seen you in the newspaper?" the boss asked, trying to remember.
"My name is James Scott."
"Ah! You must be the hero of the East District!" The boss suddenly realized, and his expression instantly became incredibly warm and respectful.
"You...you're going to wear this outfit you just bought to the media interview?"
Lorne nodded.
"Good heavens!" the boss exclaimed.
Seeing the waiter still standing there dumbfounded, the boss immediately turned around and yelled at him, "Eddie! You idiot! How could you bring Mr. Scott here?!"
He turned to Lorne, his face full of apology, and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Scott! We've never served someone as famous as you in our store! Please throw away that garment! It's only fit to be used as a cover for a trash can!"
Without saying a word, he pulled Lorne aside, picked up a tape measure, and personally measured him.
You will need a casual outfit for the dinner party, a matching vest, and a formal gown for the opera.
"At least 30 sets should be prepared!"
"Wait! Wait!" Lorne waved his hand hurriedly. "I just want a formal suit for the party, maybe—and a tuxedo at most."
"And you haven't told me how much I'm owed."
"How much is it? Oh no, you're too kind, Mr. Scott!" the shopkeeper chuckled. "You don't need to pay!"
He immediately looked at his assistant and loudly ordered, "Write it down! Shorten the sleeves by one inch, and make the waist a little smaller—"
"Where's the tie?! Quickly, bring me the latest model tie!"
Lorne, who had inexplicably acquired a large pile of clothes, was still somewhat bewildered when he left the clothing store.
Although he quickly understood the boss's true intentions, he still felt somewhat uncomfortable.
"So this is one of the perks of being a celebrity."
"However, this formal attire isn't very comfortable to wear."
"Very good, the movements are very standard."
With light steps and a swaying body, Hugh raised his head and sincerely praised, "Scott, it's hard to believe you haven't learned this kind of dance before."
"You've already become quite skilled at it in just a few hours."
A pleased smile appeared on Hugh's face.
She was in a good mood. She had been worried that her height would affect the teaching effect, but now it seemed that the two of them were working together very well.
It seems my figure isn't as bad as I'd imagined, and I'm actually quite suitable to be Scott's backup dancer.
"It's all thanks to Hugh's excellent teaching," Lorne said with a smile. To be honest, to match Hugh's height, he had to slightly bend his knees and lower his body throughout the dance to barely keep up with Hugh. Fortunately, he—
With the capabilities of a "machine", doing these things is not too difficult.
Otherwise, Hugh would have to teach himself on tiptoe.
As a gentleman, he felt he should still consider his friend's self-esteem.
"Ms. Hugh—" This title made Hugh a little shy. She raised her head slightly and said seriously, "Scott, you must remember that dancing is not just dancing. There must be necessary conversation. You can't just be like two puppets."
"When conversing, it's important to be subtle. This is Ruen, and the social style is rather conservative."
"For example, if you want to compliment a lady's outfit, don't just say 'Your dress is beautiful.' Instead, observe her overall gentle demeanor and casually add, 'Your outfit today seems to have captured the essence of an autumn afternoon's sunshine.'"
"Does it really have to be described like that?!"
"What a hassle, there are so many rules to follow when speaking," Lorne thought to himself.
After practicing for another half hour, the two stopped to rest.
"By the way, Scott, have you been living in the factory all this time?" Hugh asked curiously, taking a sip of her red tea.
"No, no." Lorne shook his head slightly. "Most of the time, I stay in hotels. It's just that I've been working too much lately, so I'm temporarily staying in the office."
"Hotels—" Hugh asked, somewhat puzzled. "Don't you have your own house in Backlund? Why do you keep staying in hotels?"
"No." Lorne shook his head. "I'm not a native of Backlund. When I first came here, the housing prices in Backlund were a bit too expensive for me, so I've always stayed in hotels." He said this half-truthfully.
At least for Scott's identity, that was the truth. Mrs. Griffin's house was the residence of Lorne Disenke.
"Actually, renting a house would be very cost-effective. But since I came to Backlund, I've been so busy with other things that I haven't had the chance."
"This will cause you a lot of trouble. You can't expect those gentlemen or bishops to come to your factory in the East End if they want to visit you," Hugh said.
Her words made sense, and Lorne nodded.
"Yes, I plan to buy a house after I'm done with this busy period."
"Recently, house prices in Backlund have fallen quite a bit."
After Hugh left, Lorne remained alone, holding hands with the air, and continued practicing her dance steps.
"What a hassle—" he muttered.
"Your movements are strange—" A slightly ethereal voice suddenly came from the side.
Lorne froze, then looked up slightly and saw Sharon, dressed in a black Gothic court dress, who had silently appeared in the corner of the room and was quietly floating there.
"Ms. Sharon, couldn't you have given me a heads-up?"
"Next time, I'll knock on the window," Sharon said, her tone still cool.
"I told you to use the main entrance," Lorne thought to himself.
"You don't need to deliberately lower your body when you're dancing," Sharon commented.
"Lower your body? Uh—" Lorne repeated his previous actions before realizing what he had just done.
Okay—I'll keep the habit of dancing with Hugh.
He turned to Sharon and asked, "Ms. Sharon, is there something you need from me today?"
"The matter you asked me to do has been completed." She took out a document from thin air and handed it to Lorne.
"Just show this to the port manager."
"Okay." Lorne took the receipt with a smile.
With it, his plan to transport munitions to the captain and his crew could officially begin.
The captain has agreed to the arms smuggling plan and is very interested in the "Disaster Priest's" potion recipe. However, she doesn't intend to accept the gift directly, saying she can buy it with money.
Although short of money, Lorne rejected her offer to pay directly, instead suggesting that the captain's cut be reduced in the first few arms deals, allowing him to get more profit as a form of compensation.
His plan was to use the opportunity of supplying the military in the southern continental colonies to smuggle out some undeclared munitions with legal export certificates. When the cargo ships arrived at ports at sea for resupply, the captains would transport the undeclared munitions away.
The key issue was customs inspection, but now that Sharon has provided this document, there's nothing to worry about.
Sharon and her group have quite a wide network of connections.
"If only I owned a shipping company or a few cargo ships," Lorne sighed. "That way, delivering goods to the captain wouldn't be so complicated, it would be much more convenient."
"Captain?" Sharon keenly caught the word, a scrutinizing glint in her azure eyes. "Captain—who is that?"
"Captain—yes—" Lorne felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze, but still explained, "One of my occult teachers and friends, a very learned lady I met at sea."
"Teacher—Friend—"
"And ladies—"
Sharon's gaze lingered on Lorne's face for a few seconds, seemingly savoring the words.
The atmosphere was inexplicably awkward and cold.
Moderation—I must exercise moderation—she told herself, temporarily burying the question about the "captain" in her heart.
"Kaspass also helped with this matter," Sharon changed the subject, her tone returning to its usual cool indifference. "He left Backlund in a hurry yesterday, supposedly because you reminded him to leave."
"I noticed he wasn't having much luck lately, so I gave him a heads-up," Lorne explained.
"That's the right decision," Sharon agreed. "If the permissives follow the trail, they might take their anger out on him."
"Although he seems like a stubborn old man, he's actually quite receptive to advice," Lorne chuckled.
"Oh, right," he suddenly remembered something, looked at Sharon, and asked, "You said my dance posture was wrong, so—why don't you teach me while you're at it? Teacher Sharon~"
Sharon didn't speak, but simply stared silently at Lorne with her exquisite azure eyes. After several seconds, she slowly spoke, her voice devoid of any emotion: "You should let Mr. Hugh continue teaching you. I'm not in charge of dance instruction."
As soon as she finished speaking, her figure once again seemed to merge into the shadows, quickly becoming transparent.
"Mr. Hugh—" Lorne was slightly taken aback.
No, she just arrived? And she's been watching here ever since?