CHAPTER 333: CONJOINED TRIPLETS

Sure enough, Richard simply raised an eyebrow and cut straight to the point. "I appreciate the flattery, Mr. Armani," he said coolly, "but you still haven’t answered my question."

Armani didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward with an easy, practiced charm. "How about endorsing Armani clothes and menswear?"

Richard’s expression remained neutral. "I don’t have time for commercials," he replied. "And besides, I only wear suits—except in winter, when I wear a coat."

"You wouldn’t need to film any advertisements," Armani assured him. "Just wear an Armani suit every weekend, or an Armani coat in the colder months. You’re already in front of cameras more than most actors. That alone is more valuable than any ad campaign."

He paused, then added with a sly grin, "And of course, if you’re open to it, we can provide a full wardrobe—casualwear included. You can wear whatever you like in your daily life. I’m sure the paparazzi in the UK would love catching glimpses of your off-duty style. A well-timed tabloid spread does wonders."

Richard let out a short, amused breath and shook his head slightly. "Flattery and strategy. You’re good, Mr. Armani."

"I’m Italian," Armani said with a modest shrug, "and I know how to recognize a walking headline when I see one."

But still, Richard rejected the offer with polite finality, steering the conversation in a new direction.

"What do you think about Manchester City players instead?" he asked, his tone calm but calculating. "Athletes. Younger. More robust physiques. They’d wear your clothes better than I would, and they move in circles where fashion is already half the currency."

The endorsement fees for football stars were rising, thanks to advancements in broadcast technology and the booming global football culture. Unlike movie stars, sports figures had guaranteed screen time—appearing almost every weekend and becoming talking points regardless of their performance.

As for actors? TV shows aren’t replayed endlessly, and film release cycles can take too long. Not every variety show pulls in a broad audience either. In the UK, football was the most popular form of entertainment, cutting across generations.

Armani raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Footballers? I won’t deny they have reach—especially with the younger demographic. But they don’t always carry the... discipline I look for in brand representatives."

Richard nodded slowly, unfazed. "True. But that’s where I come in. You want reputation? I can give you a curated shortlist of players who aren’t just stars on the pitch—they’re disciplined, camera-ready, and media-trained. No nightclub brawlers. I’m talking captains, clean images, and European Competition faces."

Armani folded his hands, studying Ricahrd with renewed interest. "You’re offering me a roster of walking billboards?"

"I’m offering you influence," Richard replied evenly. "Tied to performance, loyalty, and values that won’t implode in the tabloids."

There was a pause—the kind that lingered between two businessmen who both realized they were no longer talking about just suits.

"And in return?" Armani asked carefully.

Richard smiled just slightly. "In return, I want something a bit more tailored," he said, trailing off as he pointed to the top left corner of his tuxedo, where a boutonnière currently sat."One last condition: any tailored suit or coat must have the Manchester City club insignia embroidered on it."

In other words, if the deal went through, every custom piece would bear the club badge.

The Manchester City emblem represented a football club, not a clothing brand, so there were no conflicting commercial interests. Armani had no objections to that. In fact, a coach who insisted on wearing his club’s insignia might be even more appealing—it set him apart in a sea of neutral luxury.

"That would actually make your outfit more distinctive—and attract even more attention," Armani said, his voice trailing into a brief moment of contemplation.

After a moment of contemplation, Armani nodded.

Richard pulled a pen from his suit pocket but paused, then handed over his business card instead. "I’ll put you in touch with the CEO about the endorsement."

"Got it, goodbye then," Armani replied, pocketing the napkin as he stood to leave.

Richard nodded, then was momentarily taken aback when he noticed everyone looking at him. He took a sip of his orange juice and replied nonchalantly, "If I fawned over him, he wouldn’t offer me an endorsement. What he wants is my confidence and maturity. Besides, if I ran into Maradona here, I might feel a thrill—but seeing him? Sorry, I’ve met a few celebrities, and I’ve never been into fashion."

As the wedding celebration continued late into the night, Richard was the first to bid farewell and quietly exit the party—since he was already in London, he wanted to take the opportunity to pursue something he had been eyeing in the past.

"The gas tank near King’s Cross Station?"

"Yes, exactly. It’s government-owned—they’re currently looking for investors as part of the King’s Cross Partnership, which is overseeing the High Speed 1 development."

Richard had definitely already heard people talking about the land around the Victoria Gas Tank in King’s Cross. This time, it was Stuart—his property company’s CEO—who recommended it to him. The site is located near King’s Cross Station and consists of three massive, interconnected gas tanks—structures that date all the way back to the Victorian era.

To fund regeneration projects, the government was looking for a partner for the London terminus of the Eurostar international rail services, which had been relocated to St Pancras Station for routes to Paris and Brussels.

Of course, not all parts of the land could be purchased, as some of it was owned by the government.

What had been recommended to Richard was a specific parcel with a unique backstory: a noblewoman had married into another marquis family and, through that union, acquired a portion of the gas company’s shares. Eventually, she came into possession of a piece of land that included three massive gas tanks—abandoned at the time and long forgotten by most.

In the following decades, she and her family had thought about developing this land, but the removal of the three huge abandoned storage tanks was very expensive, and they did not have sufficient funds at the time, and was not very enthusiastic about real estate development, so the land was shelved.

In fact, the location of these gas tanks was excellent, as they sat in a relatively central area of London. Before long, several real estate companies—including Maddox Construction and Property Management—began eyeing this piece of land.

"How much is the land worth?" Richard couldn’t help but ask Stuart first.

They didn’t have much cash available at the moment, with stadium construction underway and his sea container project in full swing. Richard didn’t want to rush into anything. He decided to find out the asking price first.

Stuart answered confidently, and the number left Richard surprised.

"Sixty million pounds?"

Stuart nodded. "Although this price is slightly different from the one we initially estimated, it’s not far off."

"How did you come up with your original valuation?"

"First, we investigated the land that the government was planning to develop. Then, considering the potential for joint transformation and development, we hired an appraisal agency to verify the value—using their own independent assessment and comparing it with our internal estimate. This way, we could validate our projections with an objective benchmark and ensure there were no major discrepancies."

Stuart then took a document from her briefcase and handed it to Richard, continuing,"To be honest, this wasn’t the first attempt at developing the site. A previous plan was already in motion, but an accident disrupted the process, and the two parties never reached a formal agreement."

Richard flipped through the documents Stuart brought.

Sure enough, it was an assessment report on the gas tank site—covering approximately six hectares near King’s Cross Station.

The report was dated at the end of February this year. At that time, the appraisal agency had adjusted the value based on several factors: recent successful sales and listing prices in the surrounding area, the volatility of London land prices in recent years, and the site’s industrial zoning. The final valuation ranged between fifty and a hundred million pounds.

"So even with that valuation, Ian still lowered the asking price..."

Stuart nodded at Richard’s remark. "Exactly. Even if different institutions produce slightly different figures, they’re all within the same ballpark. But considering the well-known financial troubles of her family, if we offer a full cash payment, she’ll naturally be more willing to lower the price."

"So even if we increase our offer, it won’t go much higher. At most, we might have to raise it by ten to fifteen million pounds."

"Yes. After all, since last year, due to the global economic downturn, London land prices have dipped slightly after two years of strong growth. And frankly, the outlook ahead isn’t all that optimistic."

Richard thought for a moment before deciding to check things out for himself. "Stuart, I want to visit the gas tanks near King’s Cross Station and have a look."

Since the boss had spoken, how could Stuart possibly refuse him?

King’s Cross Station could be said to sit in the very heart of London, with City Hall right next to it.

When the Rolls-Royce stopped near the station, Richard and Stuart could clearly see three enormous gas tanks standing along the Regent’s Canal. Those gas tanks, along with the adjacent piece of land—if Richard agreed—would soon belong to him!

"The history of these gas tanks dates back to the 1860s. They’re relics of the Victorian era..."Standing beside Richard, Stuart gave a brief explanation.

"However, these tanks have long been abandoned due to their sheer size. There are three of them, identical in design, each nearly fifty meters high. Dismantling them is time-consuming and costly, so they’ve simply been left as is. Of course, that’s also partly due to some unique conditions in this area..."

In fact, while many people may not have seen King’s Cross Station in person, they were almost certainly familiar with it—especially if they knew anything about Harry Potter.

’Because ’Harry Potter’ hasn’t even been released yet,’ Richard thought to himself as he looked out at the landscape.

The filming location for Platform 9¾—the departure point for Harry Potter’s journey to Hogwarts—was King’s Cross Station.

In the years to come, it would become a major attraction for fans of the series, transforming King’s Cross into a famous landmark in London.

Thinking about Harry Potter, Richard couldn’t help but look forward to meeting Miss Rowling, eagerly anticipating the debut of her masterpiece.

Historically, in 1830, a statue of King George IV—often mocked for his extravagance—was erected at the intersection of Battle Bridge. The statue quickly became the subject of public ridicule, and locals began referring to the area as "King’s Cross" in jest.

Though the statue was removed in 1842, the name "King’s Cross" endured.

The London terminus was later developed by the Great Northern Railway (GNR) between 1849 and 1852. King’s Cross Station officially opened in 1852, replacing a temporary passenger station and alleviating congestion along the main railway line. By the 1860s, the area had evolved into a vital transportation hub.

It was during this same period that gas lighting surged in popularity. King’s Cross became the city’s central hub for piped gas distribution, and three enormous gas tanks were built nearby as part of that effort.

These gas tanks, identical in appearance, featured the same internal beam structures and riveted inlay designs. A large, shared roof connected the trio, and ever since the Victorian era, they had been affectionately nicknamed the "Siamese triplets."

Following World War II, Britain began a steady process of deindustrialization, shifting from a manufacturing economy to one based on services. Road transport gradually replaced much of the rail system’s importance, and vast swaths of industrial land—particularly in London—were abandoned.

King’s Cross and its surrounding areas, once buzzing with logistics and industry, suffered the same fate. As factories and canals around the station closed, the district fell into neglect.

By the 1980s and 1990s, King’s Cross had become one of London’s ten poorest boroughs, with some of the lowest commercial office rents in the city center. It developed a notorious reputation—plagued by drugs, prostitution, dingy nightclubs, and adult entertainment venues.

Even today, much of that atmosphere lingers—which explains why the gas tank site has remained untouched and undeveloped for so long.

Yet as Stuart continued his explanation, Richard’s gaze drifted across the old gas tanks, the quiet waters of Regent’s Canal, the towering King’s Cross Station behind them, and the dense patchwork of buildings in every direction.

His brow furrowed, and a subtle, contemplative look crossed his face.

He seems to have found the most critical thread that runs through all these things!