Inside the Manor, the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting clear shadows of the fine carpet's tufts. As leather shoes touched the carpet's edge, Merkel, wearing a shirt, leaned forward over the table and reached for the Earth device on the shelf.
The Earth device had been unused for a long time, gathering a layer of dust. Merkel gently wiped its surface with a cloth. Just then, footsteps approached from behind. Merkel turned around and found Schiller walking in.
"Good afternoon, sir... Oh, what's that?" Merkel first greeted normally, then looked with a hint of confusion at what Schiller was holding.
"Yesterday, Victor and I went to an antique shop in the West District and found something interesting." Schiller shook the item in his hand, making a clinking sound.
It was a wooden frame adorned with numerous wooden beads. Schiller tilted it, and Merkel could see the whole thing. He asked, "Is that... an abacus? How did you become interested in this?"
"An abacus, an ancient calculating tool. I prefer it over calculators. It makes a satisfying sound when the beads collide, much more pleasant than the synthesized electronic sounds of calculators."
Schiller said while sitting down at the table with the abacus in his hand. He squinted and looked at the wall clock. Merkel took a step to the side, ensuring he wouldn't obstruct Schiller's gaze.
However, Schiller only glanced at the clock casually before lowering his head and began manipulating the wooden abacus.
It was evident that the abacus was an antique. Fortunately, the aged wood made for a smooth texture. Schiller supported his head with one hand while continuously moving the abacus beads with the other.
After watching for a while, Merkel realized that Schiller wasn't randomly moving the beads. He seemed to be genuinely performing calculations, with both his hands and mouth engaged.Merkel found his employer increasingly eccentric. Changes in his routines and habits could be accepted, but he used to treasure the Earth device like a treasure. However, at some point, it was discarded while the previously despised cane started to be frequently used, its top showing signs of worn-off varnish.
Today, he had somehow obtained an abacus, and he actually learned abacus calculations. He seemed intent on using this ancient method to calculate something.
"Sir, if what you're calculating is important, I can fetch a calculator for you. I'm not doubting your ability with the abacus, but numbers and accounts are prone to errors. Rectifying misunderstandings might consume a considerable amount of your time."
"No worries, it's not something important." Schiller made the abacus beads clatter. "I'm just practicing abacus calculations, getting ready for a potential surge in bookkeeping..."
"A surge in bookkeeping?" Merkel became even more puzzled. However, at that moment, as Schiller glanced at his wristwatch, Merkel heard the doorbell ring downstairs.
Merkel was surprised and turned his ear towards the sound. He then quickly walked to the door, looked downstairs, and said, "I recall that there's no appointment scheduled for today?"
"Indeed, because the visitor doesn't understand the concept of appointments."
Merkel put down the Earth device he was holding and, upon reaching the ground floor, he spotted a figure lazily leaning against the door. Even from a distance, he recognized that no one but Constantine could act like that.
"Good morning, Merkel. Is Schiller here?" Constantine didn't treat himself as an outsider at all. He walked inside without waiting, and it was Merkel, the butler, who had to follow him.
"Mr. Constantine, you must call ahead for an appointment. Only then can I ascertain whether Mr. Schiller is available today. Without a prior arrangement, what if you happen to visit when Mr. Schiller is occupied? Wouldn't it be a wasted trip?"
"Forget it!" Constantine waved his hand. "What could he possibly be busy with? Eating, sleeping, polishing his shabby umbrella? He only works four hours a day. The remaining twenty hours, he locks himself in his study to research conspiracies..."
"You'd better not say that." Merkel followed behind Constantine, but Constantine increased his pace, walking quickly. He crossed the courtyard and ascended the staircase. Taking a few steps, he reached the study where Schiller was.
Schiller was still seated behind the table covered in books, manipulating the abacus. When Constantine entered, Schiller didn't even lift an eyelid. He just extended a finger towards the chair opposite him.
Constantine flipped the hem of his overcoat and sat down across from Schiller. Schiller gave Merkel a brief glance. Merkel closed the curtains, shut the door, and stood by the table.
Constantine looked up at him and then said, "Next, we're going to have a private conversation..."
Merkel made a "please" gesture and stood still. Constantine stared at him, clicked his tongue, and then said, "My conversation with your boss might involve some confidential matters. Don't you think you should..."
"Sir, you're British, and you should know that a butler doesn't exist in this Manor, at any time."
Constantine sighed in frustration, then looked at Schiller. Schiller seemed indifferent, still absorbed in manipulating the abacus. When Constantine looked back at Merkel, all he saw was Merkel's typical British-style forced smile.
"Fine, let's talk about my compensation next." Constantine tapped the table with his finger.
Schiller finally stopped manipulating the abacus. He looked down, opened a drawer of the desk, took out a set of documents, and handed them to Constantine. "This is a detailed account. Take a look. Do you have any questions?"
Constantine took the documents. As he looked at the first page, he froze. He pointed at a line and said, "Reimbursement from the Green Lantern Corps? What does this mean?"
"Literally," Schiller replied without looking up.
"Are you saying that the Green Lantern Corps is actually paying my salary?"
"No, I'm the one paying your salary. But I also need to seek reimbursement from the Green Lantern Corps. Don't forget, I am a Green Lantern, and according to the rules in the ring, the Green Lantern Corps headquarters is responsible for covering the expenses of any law enforcement activities in my assigned sector."
Constantine opened his mouth wide. He said, "So, you're saying you dragged down the first batch of Green Lanterns, positioned the second batch to intercept them at the Central Roundabout, and ambushed Deputy Carol. These were all part of your strategic plan. And you intend for the Green Lantern Corps headquarters to reimburse you for the expenses incurred by this plan?"
"Correct. Before I executed this plan, I was already a member of the Green Lantern Corps, a legitimate Green Lantern. The ring's rules state that the Green Lantern Corps will cover all expenses incurred by a Green Lantern in maintaining order in their designated sector. Any issues with that?"
"You..." Constantine was unusually lost for words. He thought for a while, and even the muscles on his face seemed to assist in his thinking. After a long pause, he finally blurted out a question:
"Don't you find yourself a bit unscrupulous?"
"Keep reading," Schiller continued to manipulate the abacus nonchalantly.
Constantine gathered his thoughts and looked back down at the document. As he read, he muttered to himself, "Attendance fees... travel expenses... hourly rates... all calculated based on the energy of the green light from the ring? It seems fine. An attendance fee of twenty units of green light energy? That's acceptable..."
"Wait!" Constantine suddenly exclaimed.
"Expenditure on magical equipment: 380,000 items? Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands... 380,000?!"
Constantine extended his hand, counting on his fingers. Then he looked up at Schiller and asked, "You just wrote down some random number, didn't you?"
Schiller also looked up at him, maintaining direct eye contact. Constantine hesitated again and asked, "Is that right?"
Schiller continued looking at him without saying a word. Constantine closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, put the document down, and then looked at Schiller. "I thought you'd have a basic understanding of magic."
"The entire Earth... Oh, no, according to their terms, the entire sector where Earth is located, probably doesn't possess more than 38 items that could be considered magical artifacts."
"I've said it before, magic comes with a price, and a significant one at that. You can't just hire a devil to craft artifacts for you for free. Even the most basic enchantment weapons might require you to sacrifice your soul..."
"Even those sorcerers who have their own towers in the rift space, having a genuine magical artifact is already quite impressive. But for wanderer sorcerers like me, we don't even have one."
Schiller continued to stare at him without speaking. After a while, Constantine finally gave in. He said, "Alright, I admit, there might be one or two, but I've hidden them away."
Schiller kept his gaze on him, and Constantine sighed in resignation, saying, "Fine, there are around five, and that includes pots and pans for making magical pigments..."
Schiller raised an eyebrow, and Constantine looked at him. Finally, Constantine raised both hands and said, "Okay! Okay! I probably have more than six hundred items in my hiding place..."
"But, you have to understand, my situation is unique. I'm good at making friends, whether in heaven or hell, I have a fair share of good buddies. When they heard I moved into a new place, they were willing to help, and some even do business with me, just like you. So, I can get some compensation..."
"However, in this world, most sorcerers don't even have a decent weapon. Regardless, the number 380,000 is way too exaggerated!"
"Who are you?" Schiller suddenly asked this question.
"Who am I? I'm Constantine, who else?"
"No, I mean your title."
"Uh, I have a title called Hellblazer, but I've told you before, I'm not a detective. Hellblazer is more focused on hell."
"How's your reputation?"
Constantine made a face as if he knew where this was going, and Schiller said, "Correct, it's downright rotten."
"A newly minted Green Lantern named Schiller Rodriguez, faced with Gotham's hellish challenges right from the start. But he's driven by justice, devising a series of plans to save this place."
"At the beginning of this plan, he tapped into about half of the central power battery's energy. However, he realized that even this energy wasn't enough to stem the tide. So, he had to write checks he couldn't cash yet, hiring many capable individuals, including you, Constantine."
"And due to your rotten reputation, you demanded a hefty price. But that's expected, right?"
"But how could they agree to such blatant extortion?"
"But if they don't agree, you'd have a reason to plunder, right? After all, you're a rotten person."
"I..." Constantine was caught off guard, and he said, "I acknowledge that I'm a rotten person, but not that rotten. Many times, I do honor my contracts. You're tarnishing my professional reputation, you..."
"Give you an extra ten percent when it's done."
"Twenty percent!"
"Deal."
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