Pale Rider opened his mouth, immediately realizing that this might actually work.
The wealthy were not necessarily smart, and the poor were not fools either. They would definitely know that this so-called auction was Pale Rider crying poverty and putting on a show.
But could that stop them from wanting to buy these fine goods at rock-bottom prices?
Of course not. The poorer you were, the more you had to find ways to save money. If you could avoid buying something, you did; if you had to buy it, you did not buy new; if you could buy it third-hand, you did not buy it second-hand; and if you absolutely had to buy new, you compared prices everywhere. Saving even a penny was a penny saved. That was the survival rule of the poor.
Everything piled up in the yard outside was high-quality. Even the stripped wallpaper was not merely paper printed with patterns, but thin fabric embroidered with exquisite designs. One roll alone could make your home look like the Louvre.
Yes, poor people might not need such extravagant decor, nor did they need a German smart toilet or century-old French plane trees. But if those things cost only one-third of their secondhand market price, then they needed everything.
They did not need to go home, rip off their own wallpaper, and put it up. Nor did they need to replace their own toilets. They could simply resell these things secondhand, even strike deals with secondhand companies on the spot. As long as they could make a profit in the middle, that was enough.
They knew it was a show, but that did not matter. If someone was willing to put on this kind of show every day, they would hail him as the new King of Gotham.
As