The Fox of France

Chapter 339: The Preparations

Mr. Messier's proposal to compensate for the loss on low-priced tickets with fares for high-end luxury carriages reignited media interest in the lavishness and pricing of these carriages.

During an interview with the Businessman Gazette, Mr. Messier outlined the luxury carriage details, dubbing them "palaces on wheels." As for the pricing of these seats, he assured that for the affluent, it wouldn't dent their wallets much.

"After all, trains can accommodate more people in one go compared to carriages. So, although the cost of our train exceeds by far the extravagant carriage Louis XVI attempted to flee Paris in, the per-seat cost doesn't surpass his carriage—certainly in speed and comfort, far exceeding his. If he had traveled on our train instead of that carriage, he'd have absconded ages ago. Plus, this line operates long-term, so it's quite economical when divided among passengers."

Moreover, the inaugural train heading to Elysium Palace, being the world's first passenger train, has limitations on ticket sales. Ordinary tickets on this train will all be gifted to students from various schools in Paris, allowing them to experience the allure of science and technology. The positioning of luxury carriage seats will be auctioned off, and all proceeds will be donated to education in France because children are our future!

We've always believed that greater ability comes with greater responsibility. Many of us, through hard work, have earned fortunes and become affluent. However, we must remain grateful, acknowledging that apart from personal efforts, our position today is also indebted to historical progress. Without the collective effort of the French people, we wouldn't be where we are. So, we, the affluent, should understand gratitude and give back to society. Thus, I urge the wealthy of France to step forward, support us through practical action..."

Post this interview, newspapers swiftly redirected attention towards the auction. Stirred by the press, discussions ensued on how much these seats might fetch and which magnates would generously contribute to charity.

While the auction hadn't begun, Parisian tycoons, especially the overt ones, sequentially expressed their interest in charity. Even those previously criticized, like Mr. Bonaventure dubbed a 'vampire,' claimed their avid support for the train and charity causes, fulfilling their societal duties.

Similarly, 'France's biggest pimp,' Henri, derided by many, declared that supporting charity was a responsibility of the newly affluent, adding, "Many of my employees are intrigued by the train." Thus, he aimed to return laden with wins from the auction. His statement also prompted curiosity about the spectacle when his staff boarded the train.

Yet, the most surprising was Mr. Gerard, the managing director of Lorraine Steel Company.

With Lorraine Steel's ascent, the company garnered increasing attention. Though not its largest shareholder, Mr. Gerard, responsible for daily affairs, inevitably became the focus. One aspect became widely known—his frugality.

Mr. Gerard's wealth was public knowledge; after all, Lorraine Steel was among Europe's most profitable enterprises. As its executive, being cash-strapped was like a king endorsing intravenous disinfectant injections—an absolute joke. (Whether or not he did, well, if the king says so, it must be true, right?)

However, despite his wealth, Mr. Gerard's extreme thriftiness was renowned. He owned only four sets of clothes, two for hot weather and two for cold, all cost-effective (his cost-effectiveness being the money spent on clothing divided by the expected usage time, aiming for the smallest quotient). He even refrained from buying a carriage, preferring to walk to work until narrowly escaping a kidnapping, after which he begrudgingly acquired a shoddy carriage. To save, he didn't hire a coachman—he learned to drive the carriage himself.

There's even a joke about him:

Mr. Gerard goes to a café, orders coffee, and when asked if he wants sugar, he replies, "Bring it without, but full."

The waiter brings unsweetened coffee. Mr. Gerard takes a sip, makes space for the sugar cube, and then calls out, "Add a cube!"

Of course, this joke's untrue; Mr. Gerard doesn't frequent cafés for coffee. Those acquainted with him know he abstains from alcohol, coffee, and tea, drinking only water.

Hence, some journalists queried if he'd participate in the auction, expecting a response like

"Me, spend on a luxurious seat? Absolutely mad! Charity? Not my concern! Pay? Only if Robespierre carries the guillotine himself... Yes, count me out, absolutely not!"

However, Mr. Gerard's actual response surprised everyone:

"On this matter, I've already discussed with Messier. He assured me that anyone can check these accounts at any time to see if funds are misallocated. Given this, I believe the money will go where it's truly needed. Therefore, this event is entirely a charity drive, and I find charity immensely meaningful. So, although I have zero interest in luxury seats, I'm willing to participate. Besides, that rascal Messier is slyly advertising for free; he owes me for that..."

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