When Lex walked out of Glad's room, he heard Richard's voice: "I really didn't realize how rich you were when we were in Tingen."
Seeing no one around, Lex lowered his voice and chuckled, "I was going to say, you're already at Sea, so why do you still look so poor?"
Richard coughed dryly and said, "I know what you're referring to. Admittedly, pirates are like walking gold coins. But you must understand, I am an artist, a musician."
"Interacting with those crude fellows would affect my inspiration, and I don't wish for my music to be tainted by the smell of money."
Lex nodded imperceptibly and said, "You are a true artist."
"Of course."
But a moment later, Richard said, "Wait, why does that sound like you're mocking me?"
"I'm not."
Lex quickly changed the subject: "Can you help me get to the bottom of those people? You've been observing for two days, you should know how to find them."
"I'm not asking you to participate in the hunt, but I hope you can help me gather information, for example, what magical items they have on hand."
After a moment of silence, Richard said, "Duke, if I accept your commission again in the future, I will definitely add some additional clauses and specify the scope of my services. Anything beyond that will be charged!"
"Absolutely!"
Lex chuckled softly, "Let's talk about it later."
This time, Richard did not respond.
He left.
It was already ten o'clock at night. In the ship's restaurant kitchen, a tall chef took off the chef's hat invented by Roselle, preparing to leave after finishing his day's work.
"You've worked hard."
"Get some rest early."
After greeting the other chefs, the tall chef unbuttoned his collar, pulled out a bottle of rum from under the counter, and drank as he walked.
He came to a warehouse in the middle of the ship, looked around, and seeing no one, he knocked.
A moment later, the door opened, revealing a man with a very cold demeanor.
"You're back?"
The cold-faced man walked back inside, "Close the door behind you."
The chef agreed, ducked his head in, and then pulled the door shut with a bang.
Another voice in the warehouse said, "Be gentle, don't let anyone discover us."
In the depths of the warehouse, a gas lamp was lit, and several sets of clothes were strewn on the floor. There were men's, women's, crew members', and cleaners' clothes.
Beside these clothes, a brown-haired man with brown skin, showing some South Continent ancestry, was folding these clothes neatly.
"Charles, how much longer do I have to stay in that kitchen? I'm a warrior, not a chef!"
The tall man who had just returned from the kitchen tilted his head back, took a swig of rum, and plopped down.
Charles, who had set up the trap to hunt Lex, smiled at the words: "Just bear with it for one more day. I already have a plan, but I need to refine the details and reconfirm some information."
Charles took out a notebook and said, "Through observations today and last night, I've found that Mr. Reily is a man with a regular schedule. He leaves his room at 8:30 AM, spends about an hour dining, and then goes to the deck to rest."
"He returns to his room at 10:30 AM, dines at 12:00 PM, usually takes a nap in the afternoon, fishes on the ship after 3:30 PM, then dines at 7:00 PM, and afterwards returns to his room."
"Additionally, he is a busybody. Last night, he even stopped a domestic violence incident."
Sandy, the big man, spread his hands and said, "What does that mean for us?"
The 'Physician', who was reading a book, said coldly, "It's very significant. A regular schedule means we can arrange the time and place for the hunt. As for his busybody nature, we can set a trap to lure him in."
Charles nodded and said, "Exactly. All the work I've done these past two days has been in preparation for the hunt."
Sandy patted his chest and said, "I can help you! As long as you don't make me stay in the kitchen, anything is fine."
Charles smiled.
The Physician, however, said coldly, "Your physical features are too obvious. As soon as you appear once, that hunter will definitely remember you. That's why Charles arranged for you to be in the kitchen; it's one of the few places on the ship where you can avoid the sight of passengers and where passengers won't appear."
"Just bear with it, Sandy," Charles said. "Observe for one more day tomorrow, and then I can confirm the specific details of the hunting plan."
Sandy stood up, picked up the wine bottle, and said, "I'm going out for a walk."
It was already late at night, and the passengers were all asleep. At this time, he wouldn't run into many people on the ship, so Charles didn't stop him. Besides, he knew that this big fellow had been in the kitchen all day, and if he didn't let him get some fresh air, he would go crazy.
Sandy came to the deck, leaned against the ship's rail, and drank alone.
Just then, he heard a violin solo. The melodious music, under the tranquil moonlight, possessed an indescribable magic, making Sandy feel as if he remembered his hometown, recalling some things he had almost forgotten.
He was immersed in the music, even forgetting to drink, until the last note faded, and he awoke as if from a dream.
"May I have a sip?"
A voice sounded, and Sandy turned around to see a man standing nearby with a violin, looking at the rum in his hand.
Sandy tossed him the bottle. "You play the violin wonderfully."
The man, wearing a semi-formal top hat and a suit, took the bottle and smiled in response, "Thank you."
He took a sip and said, "Can't sleep?"
Sandy sat down cross-legged. "Some worries."
The violinist's smile was faint. "Everyone has times when they're troubled. I often get terribly frustrated when composing."
He pulled out a metal cigarette case and took out a rolled cigarette. "Want one?"
Sandy chuckled, "Why not?"
A moment later, Sandy exhaled a smoke ring. "Sometimes I wonder if escaping my current job and returning home would be a better choice."
The violinist chuckled, "Sounds like you're quite dissatisfied with your current work."
"It's not that I'm dissatisfied, after all, working with friends is something that makes one happy. It's just that Charles likes to arrange everything meticulously, and I'm the type who has to do something as soon as it comes up. I don't really like his arrangements."
Sandy oh'd and added, "Charles is my friend."
He didn't feel there was anything wrong with saying that.
"I also don't like a life where everything has to be arranged and everything has to be done step by step," the violinist shrugged. "That kind of life is too boring. Waking up every day knowing what you have to do today—is there anything more tedious than that?"
Sandy laughed heartily, "I think so too, but Charles is very capable. His arrangements have never gone wrong, just like this time."
The violinist 'oh'd. "This time?"
"Is there anything special about this time?"
The violinist's face held a harmless smile, like an old friend casually asking a question.