An Invitation to the Stables

Nothing happened that night; there aren't that many conspiracies going on in this world.

Despite being the direct heir to the family fortune, Paul Mellon's real power in the Mellon family is actually in the hands of his cousin, Richard Mellon.

Paul was devoted to art and horse breeding, and his most serious work was the creation and expansion of the National Gallery of Art. He was a carefree and leisurely man. His wealth had long ensured that he would never have to worry about food and clothing, so he naturally didn't need to resort to the charade of sharpening knives in the middle of the night when guests came in.

Henry got up early in the morning, washed up, and then strolled around the courtyard. If there were many valuables inside the house, he wouldn't dare to wander around without the owner's guidance. It wouldn't be good if someone misunderstood and thought he had broken into or stolen something.

But it's less of a problem with the courtyard; Rachel Lambert wasn't crazy enough to decorate her garden with pearls and jewels. Basically, as long as Henry didn't wreak havoc with his big shears, nobody would bother with him.

Logically speaking, that's how it should be.

However, he was caught red-handed by that Old Money Paul Mellon early in the morning. "Henry Brown?"

"Yes, Mr. Mellon. Good morning." Although he didn't know why he had been called out, Henry still greeted him politely.

Do you like horses? Would you be interested in coming to see my horses? They're much more photogenic than these flowers and plants.

Haha, if you record that and play it in front of your wife, it'll be the prelude to a major battle. Is it okay to be so blunt?

However, Henry didn't voice his inner complaints. Instead, he smiled and said, "My knowledge of horses is limited to what I've seen on TV and in books. What If...? would be such an honor to see one in person."

"Heh, then come walk with me, young man."

Seeing the old man with completely white hair waving, Henry also wanted to see what this Old Money, known for his horse breeding, was like at his horse farm, so he gladly followed him.

The horse was not far from the farm, and the group, including Paul Mellon's entourage, arrived in an electric vehicle that resembled a golf cart.

Thoroughbred horses specifically used for horse racing and equestrian activities were developed in the 17th and 18th centuries by the United Kingdom through crossbreeding Arabian horses with local horses.

To be honest, it's not "pure" at all. The meaning of "purebred" is quite different from that of other animal species. A "purebred horse" can be considered a breed in itself.

The characteristics of a high-quality thoroughbred horse include a refined head, long neck, height, deep chest, short back, strong hind legs, slender body, and long legs.

These traits have shaped modern people's stereotypes about horses, to the point that when they see other breeds of horses, especially ponies, they almost mistake them for different creatures.

The reason why thoroughbred horses, which originated in the United Kingdom, have become popular all over the world is due to the promotion of horse racing, which can bring considerable profits.

The latter, in particular, has led to ranches around the world with the capability to breed horses dedicating themselves to producing faster and better thoroughbreds, thus giving rise to a new era of horse racing.

Just like yesterday when we talked about gardening, Mrs. Rachel Lambert could talk for three days and three nights straight, she could talk on and on.

While Givenchy, the fashion mogul, was able to immediately grasp the intricate designs, the other two men lacked the same keen sensitivity.

Even though Henry tried hard to follow their train of thought, he was still a step behind in understanding. His Super Brain seemed to have crashed.

It doesn't work.

When it comes to horse racing, Paul Mellon shares the same enthusiasm. He not only lists the merits of each horse but also remembers the sire and dam lineage, as well as the horse's career achievements, in great detail.

It was as if he also had a super memory, memorizing all the information in his mind.

Henry could only marvel at the sheer potential people have for what they love.

Henry certainly didn't dislike horses. A hundred or two hundred years ago, this place was like a luxury car showroom, filled with high-quality, classic, limited-edition sports cars that could easily accelerate from 0 to 100 km/h in just a few seconds.

As they walked on, nearing the horse training ground, Paul Mellon enthusiastically said, "Come, Henry, come and see my favorite horse— Ocean Hero."

It was a graceful brown horse, pacing in circles in the training field as instructed by its trainer.

Paul Mellon, of course, provides a long and complex list of pedigree and achievements. It feels like a reflection of my past self, who, when discussing games with my few friends, always liked to bring up numerical values.

In the real world, it's difficult to quantify a racehorse's abilities. What people can talk about are the horse's racing results and the performance of its sire and maternal lineage.

Henry always gave the right response at the right time. It's a pity I didn't get to ride a horse and experience the joy of galloping.

But thinking about it, it's understandable. He himself said he had no riding experience. How could someone who loves horses so much let someone like that ruin their horse? It's already quite generous of him.

Henry was actually a little puzzled by Paul Mellon's enthusiastic attitude. Even though it was something the man was passionate about...

I can't help but want to show off to someone. But what have I done to deserve that?

What If...? Henry were to simply listen to this old man's horse racing spiel, Henry 'd believe that by going to find someone in their circle, changing them every day, the old man might not even have finished his turn before he passed away.

Moreover, these people will surely offer even more elaborate flattery, making the old man overjoyed all day long.

Is it really necessary to find a young person with no background or ability—referring, of course, to whom we're talking about wealth or power—and just go for it?

Sipping the black tea brought by the waiter to soothe his parched throat, Paul Mellon suddenly asked, "Henry, would you be interested in working for me?"

In that instant, Henry understood. It was probably the abilities he had demonstrated when he applied for the job as Hepburn's assistant that had been leaked to a small circle by that big shot, Alex Hart.

Henry could hardly imagine a second possibility: what could have made the big boss, who had been so cold yesterday, so enthusiastic today? It also meant that in just one night, his intelligence had been uncovered. He wondered how much they knew.

Henry chuckled, pointing to the waiters who vaguely resembled Mutants following behind the bigwig, and said, "Mr. Mellon has plenty of talent under his command, why would he be interested in someone like me whose skills can be replaced by buying a few bulletproof briefcases?"

"I know that people like you need respect and protection so you can live like ordinary people. What I need is protection. It's a win-win exchange, isn't it?"

Look at those servants with Mutants abilities, each one of them so arrogant and haughty, truly proving the saying, "Even a seventh-rank official is no match for the prime minister."

Henry gave a wry smile and said, "Mr. Mellon, I'm now Ms. Audrey Hepburn's assistant. And right now is exactly when she needs manpower."

"I understand." Paul Mellon pulled out a jet-black business card with gold lettering, handed it to him, and said, "So when you feel the time is right and you're looking for a new job, feel free to come to me."

It seems their lives weren't threatened, hence the frantic search for someone to take the bullet. Was it simply a case of their collecting obsession acting up?

Henry accepted the business card and said, "I understand. I hope to have the opportunity to serve Mr. Mellon someday."

My true inner thoughts: I keep my distance from those in power and wealth.

Since the big shot has given him a way out, he shouldn't be ungrateful and ruin it for himself. But seriously, Henry really doesn't want to be kept by anyone; that kind of life is too boring.

Just like the horses in front of us. No matter how fast they run, they can only enjoy themselves on the racetrack or training ground. They will never know how high the sky is or how wide the land is.