Chapter 5: The Pig Butchering Scam

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Leonard, shaken to the core by this news, halted his steps on the staircase and eagerly pulled out the entire sheet of letter paper, desperate to read what lay beneath. At that moment, a voice came from the adjacent room, clear and melodious like a wind chime: "Good evening, Mr. Sorel."

Leonard folded the letter away and turned his head, forcing a smile. "Good evening, Petty."

The greeting came from Petty, the youngest daughter of the Mireille family living on the second floor. She was only ten years old and had been taught to read by Leonard before, so they shared a good rapport.

Petty beamed. "Anything new or exciting today?"

Leonard thought for a moment before replying, "Perhaps someone treated me to a meal at the 'Common Table'?"

Petty’s eyes sparkled. "'Common Table'? I heard a meal there costs at least two francs! Was it tasty?"

Leonard nodded. "Yes, at least the beef was chewable..."

Petty covered her mouth and laughed heartily. "You better not let Mrs. Martin hear that..."

Leonard laughed and asked, "And you, Petty? Any news today?"

Upon hearing the question, Petty’s expression darkened. "Mother said I’m being sent to ballet classes next month..."

Leonard’s heart sank. In this era, anyone with even a modicum of social understanding knew what it meant for a poor family to send their child to ballet school.

Ballet was long out of fashion; only impoverished families sent their daughters to boarding ballet schools. On one hand, it saved on the cost of food and lodging at home; on the other, they hoped the child could eventually earn money as a professional performer.

Ballet schools enforced strict military-like discipline. The girls often suffered from malnutrition and frailty, earning the cruel nickname “mice.”

It was at such times that some supposedly “kind” sponsors appeared—either lurking behind the curtains or moving backstage through the theater, selecting favored girls...

Before Leonard could say anything, a rough, gruff female voice rang out from the room: "You little brat, hurry up and come work..."

Petty’s face turned terrified. She nodded briefly to Leonard and hurried back inside.

By now, dusk had fallen. This old “middle-class apartment” built in the 18th century had poor lighting, and the residents here could barely afford any extra candles, let alone gas lamps.

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Leonard watched Petty’s frail back disappear into the thick darkness and could only sigh silently, powerless to help.

At this moment, he was like “a muddy Virgin crossing the river, unable to save herself.”

He climbed the stairs to his attic room, lit a candle in the cramped slanted space, and finally read the rest of the letter.

The reason his family wanted him to quit school was straightforward. His sister had encountered a fortunate marriage proposal last October. The suitor was a senior manager at the Orby Trading Company, with a handsome income and a large estate in Guiana.

In this era, women who hoped to marry men of higher social standing than their own family needed a substantial dowry.

Many families, unable to afford this sum, ended up raising their daughters as “old maids.”

Maupassant had portrayed this situation in his story "My Uncle Jules"—

The protagonist Joseph’s family had two older daughters who remained unmarried due to age, until their father’s letter to Uncle Jules was used to charm a young man, barely managing to marry the second sister off to a minor clerk.

Now, Leonard’s sister was about to make a “high marriage,” but the dowry originally prepared for her was likely insufficient. The parents would have to dip deep into their savings to cover the cost.

The letter did not specify an exact amount, but Leonard guessed it was no less than 3,000 francs—exceeding his father’s entire annual income and nearly equal to the dowry of a middle-class Parisian family.

Add in the dress and wedding expenses, and the Sorel family had practically emptied their coffers to welcome this son-in-law.

Leonard could not help but question the purpose of spending so much to marry off his sister—was it worth sacrificing his own future?

The second page of the letter offered the answer—

“Emile, the man soon to be your brother-in-law, has secured the opportunity to invest in the Panama Interoceanic Canal Global Company. He has promised to use a large portion of the dowry, along with the family’s savings, to purchase shares and bonds in this promising company.

Once the Panama Canal is successfully dug (expected to take only five years), these investments will snowball like an Alpine avalanche, freeing our family from its current fate completely...

You need not worry about quitting school either. Emile has arranged a position for you at the Orby Trading Company’s branch in Provence, with a monthly salary of at least 260 francs, plus a year-end bonus.

Come back, dear Leon. Even if you graduate from the Sorbonne, what good will it do? The job market is dreadful now, and your studies in literature... that’s only a luxury in good times...”

At the bottom of the letter was a 20-franc banknote and a ticket for a train back to the Alps two weeks hence.

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Holding the letter, Leonard sank into deep thought—he certainly knew about the Panama Canal, having just witnessed the uproar over the Li family selling the port before his rebirth. The whole affair revolved around this very canal.

But the process of digging the canal, and whether the French would succeed in it, was something he was less clear about.

If this so-called Panama Interoceanic Canal Global Company truly existed and could complete the canal within five years, the investment would indeed yield tremendous returns.

Yet, as a socialist youth who had installed anti-fraud apps on his phone, he refused to believe that fortune could fall from the sky.

Moreover, the supposed benefactor was a living, breathing man—young, wealthy, promising to enrich the entire family and even secure a job for his brother-in-law.

Reviewing the memories of the original owner, Leonard recalled that “his sister” was quite plain, with many freckles—if anything, he was the more handsome sibling.

No matter how he thought about it, it was clearly a scam.

But judging by the enthusiasm, joy, and hope radiating from the letter, the entire family seemed utterly convinced. He wondered what kind of fantasy this “Emile” had spun for them.

Clutching the 20 francs and the ticket, Leonard fell into deep contemplation.

Dropping out of school was out of the question, and he could never leave Paris to return to the Alps—especially since he had just met Maupassant.

If the “Emile” con artist succeeded and then vanished, the Sorel family would face utter ruin.

He quickly pulled a sheet of paper from his desk, dipped his quill in ink, and began to write a reply:

“Dear Father, Mother, and Sister,

I am glad to hear this news...”

He knew that directly calling “Emile” a fraud would be a poor strategy—it would only make his family think he was rebellious, disobedient, or careless of their wellbeing. So he chose to gently advise them to thoroughly investigate this man’s background.

At the same time, he began to plan ways to earn money himself, knowing that the likelihood of receiving family support for tuition and living expenses was now barely a hope.