Lionel looked at his old coat and worn leather shoes, didn't argue further, and simply turned and left the apartment building.
In this era, no matter the country, people wore their class on their sleeves; there was no such thing as being "low-key."
The Haussmann building was typically inhabited by the middle class, affluent middle class, and small merchants or minor aristocrats newly arrived in Paris, so it was natural for them to be highly wary of a shabbily dressed Lionel.
Even if this apartment building advertised "Rooms for Rent" in the newspaper, not everyone could enter the building under that pretext.
But Lionel had his own "unmentionable" — at least at this stage, he didn't want his classmates to know he'd come into a small fortune, as it was hard to explain the source of the money right now.
The reason he chose the 9th arrondissement was also because it was separated from the 5th arrondissement, where Sorbonne was located, by the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th arrondissements, and it wasn't one of the 6th or 7th arrondissements where students liked to gather and socialize, so the chances of running into acquaintances were slim.
However, on second thought, since he was going to live in the Haussmann building, wearing such attire would only make him stand out more. It would be better to buy new clothes and simply change back into his old ones whenever he went to Sorbonne for class.
Since the 9th arrondissement had an opera house, it was naturally an area where actors and literati gathered, and there were many clothing stores. The ground floors of many apartment buildings were lined with shops, no different from the ground-floor businesses of later generations.
Lionel wandered around near the opera house and finally found a tailor shop called "Duset Tailor Shop" whose sign wasn't adorned with gold trim or aristocratic flourishes. He felt the 200 francs cash he had prepared in his pocket and strode in.
Fifteen minutes later, Lionel emerged in his original attire, followed by the tailor's assistant politely saying, "Welcome back next time."
As his original body had not bought even a single new vest in the two years he had been in Paris, Lionel now lacked a concept of Parisian fashion prices.
The assistant at "Duset Tailor Shop" was not snobbish; instead, he enthusiastically introduced the prices of a full outfit that met "middle-class aesthetics" —
A medium-length wool tweed lapel coat, 80 francs; a slim-fit single-breasted wool top, 40 francs; a double-breasted small vest, 20 francs; a shirt also 20 francs; a pair of narrow-leg trousers popular among university students now, 30 francs; a pair of genuine leather shoes, 30 francs.
Adding it up already came to 220 francs, and Lionel's cash wasn't enough — and this was just the price for basic items. If custom tailoring was needed, an additional fee would be charged, for example, adding a hidden pocket to the coat would cost 3 francs.
In addition, there were those necessary accessories: necktie, hat, cane, gloves…
In short, to appear as a respectable business manager, engineer, or a somewhat famous writer or actor, it simply couldn't be done without 300 francs.
This once again taught Lionel the terrifying nature of what the French called the "Paris tax"; 300 francs could already allow him to live in Mrs. Martin's apartment for a whole year.
Lionel really couldn't bring himself to spend that much.
Fortunately, the "thoughtful" assistant quietly slipped him a business card, telling him to go to a second-hand clothing store on An Tan Street, where he would find the clothes he needed.
An hour later, Lionel had changed into a "new outfit" for 120 francs —
A dark ink-blue wool short coat, meticulously tailored, with natural shoulder lines, and slightly faded at the cuffs and collar, but already washed clean and bright; inside was an off-white shirt, with buttons still in the old style of the Second Empire, slightly wrinkled across the chest, like pages turning in the wind;
Over it, a navy blue fine-striped wool waistcoat, neatly buttoned; the trousers were grey-green twill, with sharp lines, only slightly worn at the knees, but ironed, almost imperceptible;
On his feet, a pair of black leather shoes, not new, but polished to a shine, with some slight creases on the vamp.
He didn't choose gloves or a cane, only picked a round felt hat, so as not to appear too old-fashioned.
The owner of "Second Life Apparel" told Lionel that the coat, vest, and trousers in this outfit came from a fallen aristocrat, hence the excellent craftsmanship, and he had merely helped remove the family crests from them.
Lionel, of course, didn't believe this explanation, but he was still very satisfied with the outfit.
The owner had handled it very cleanly, with no strange odors or suspicious stains; it was considered a fine piece among second-hand clothes—the key was that wearing this to school wouldn't be as conspicuous as brand-new clothes, and probably only a few bored classmates would mock him a bit.
Neatly dressed, Lionel once again arrived at the apartment building located at 12 An Tan Street, next to the Paris Opera House.
This time, he merely stated his purpose, and the doorman stepped aside, bowing slightly: "Welcome, sir. The manager is to the left of the ground floor lobby. May I have the pleasure of serving you again in the future!"
His tone was reverent, as if he had never seen Lionel before—even though he had just turned Lionel away two hours earlier.
Lionel, already accustomed to this, nodded without any ripple of emotion and went directly to find the building manager to request a viewing.
The manager was an old man with white hair and sharp eyes, sporting a huge, walrus-like mustache that connected to his sideburns and completely covered his mouth, making his speech muffled, as if he had a mouthful of water.
He scrutinized Lionel from head to toe: "Our apartments, the second floor is the most expensive, the fifth floor is the cheapest. Which floor would you like to see, sir?"
As elevators were not yet widespread in Parisian buildings, the most expensive floors in most residential buildings were the second floors, boasting the highest ceilings and projecting balconies with iron railings.
From the second floor upwards, rent progressively decreased, and by the sixth floor, there were servant's quarters and single attics, usually rented by small maids or students, but even so, they cost 40 to 50 francs per month.
Lionel briefly stated his acceptable rent price and living requirements. The manager pondered for a moment, then led Lionel directly up to the fifth floor, took a key ring from his waist, and opened the door to an apartment.
"This apartment has two bedrooms, as well as a small study, a kitchen, a living room, and a parlor. The bathroom features a direct-flush toilet. And here —" the manager said, opening the window to the enclosed balcony.
Lionel went to the window and saw the golden dome of the opera house gleaming in the mist not far away.
"The floor of this apartment has just been waxed, and all the furniture is new... The rent is a generous 90 francs per month, plus an additional 5 francs per month for tap water.
If you require meal service, the price for room delivery is 80 francs per month; dining together in the ground floor restaurant is 50 francs per month."
During the manager's rambling introduction, Lionel inspected the apartment thoroughly and was quite satisfied with it. Although it was on a high floor, the price was a bit cheaper than he had expected, and it had the advantage of convenient transportation, new furniture, and even gas lamps, so he wouldn't need to purchase anything extra.
Considering the average rent in the Haussmann building in the 9th arrondissement, the manager had not quoted a random price, so after a moment of thought, he decided to rent it. After paying a 40-franc deposit, Lionel signed a one-year lease agreement.
Stepping out of the building, looking at his new clothes, and then back at the towering apartment building, he felt for the first time that destiny was quietly beginning to turn a corner here.