Chapter 168

Chapter 168

After dinner, Evan straightened himself up a bit and, recalling the free dance mentioned by the crew when boarding, decided to check out the ballroom—partly to break the monotony of the journey, and partly to observe the passengers, since the colony trip was a total unknown, and getting a read on his fellow passengers couldn't hurt.

Evan walked along the corridor toward the ballroom in the middle of the ship, passing the occasional well-dressed passenger. You'd see noblewomen in fancy gowns, their skirts swishing across the carpet, leaving a trail of perfume behind as they clung to their husbands' arms; merchants with canes murmured quietly, their conversations peppered with terms like "colonial trade" and "rubber prices."

The wall sconces cast a warm yellow glow, making the antique clocks and porcelain vases displayed on either side look even more elegant, like you weren't on a rough sea at all, but in some fancy club back in the capital.

Right as he got to the ballroom entrance, the melodious strains of a waltz drifted out through the open doors. Evan pushed through the door and was instantly swept up in the lively scene—the ballroom was about half the size of a football field, with a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, dazzling like the Milky Way, so clear you could see your reflection in the marble floor. Fresh ivy and white roses wound around the pillars, and the band in the corner was playing their hearts out, violins and cellos weaving together, romantic and stirring.

In the center of the dance floor, couples danced gracefully, the ladies' skirts spinning like blooming flowers, the tails of the gentlemen's coats lifting as they moved. At the edges of the dance floor, long tables were loaded with champagne towers, delicate pastries, and fruit platters, while waiters wove through the crowd with trays, topping off glasses left and right.

Evan noticed most of the guests were wealthy, middle-aged merchants and their families, along with a few in imperial military uniforms, clearly all from the upper crust. Even the waiters carried themselves with more class than on ordinary ships.

He found a spot off to the side and planted himself there, just as he took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, when a hearty voice came from behind: "This gentleman looks unfamiliar. Is this your first time going to the colony?"

Evan turned to see a middle-aged man with a bushy beard, wearing a navy blue suit with a colonial trade company badge pinned to his chest, his expression friendly. Evan nodded in response, and the two struck up a conversation. The man introduced himself as a spice trader who frequently traveled between the capital and the colony, sharing much about the colony's customs, local conditions, and potential risks.

During a break in the music, the chatter in the ballroom grew livelier.

Evan held his champagne, quietly listening to the conversations around him. Some complained about how the recent turmoil in the capital had affected their businesses, others boasted about the size of their plantations in the colony, and a few subtly mentioned Prince Carlos's movements, their tones tinged with caution. These fragmented pieces of information gave Evan a more direct understanding of the colony's situation and reinforced his sense that this journey required careful handling.

When the second dance began, a young lady in a pink gown cast an inviting glance his way. Evan smiled politely but did not step forward to ask her to dance—his purpose here was not socializing, and too much attention could bring trouble. He preferred to remain an observer, amidst the dazzling lights and melodious tunes, quietly planning his next steps while subtly noting the expressions and actions of everyone around him.

As night deepened, the sea breeze gently lapped against the ship's hull, but the laughter and chatter in the ballroom showed no sign of waning.

Evan's champagne glass paused slightly, his gaze discreetly fixed on two figures.

One wore a waiter's uniform, the cuffs showing signs of hasty starching, a stark contrast to the other waiters' crisp attire. He moved among the long tables with an empty tray, seemingly clearing dishes, but his eyes, like honey-coated needles, were glued to the pearl necklace swaying on a noblewoman's chest, his Adam's apple bobbing involuntarily. The other, dressed in dark clothing, posed as a manservant chatting with his master, but his fingers stealthily rubbed his waist—where something long and thin seemed to be hidden. His gaze swept over the ladies' gemstone bracelets and diamond hairpins, the greed in his eyes almost spilling over, clashing with the elegant atmosphere around him.

Evan deliberately turned sideways, his back to the two, continuing to track them with his peripheral vision. He noticed they weren't scanning randomly but had clear targets, their eyes frequently landing on the ladies with the most opulent jewelry, and they would exchange a quick glance during the climax of the music when everyone's attention was on the dance floor.

Evan understood in his heart—this was no mere petty theft. The two worked in tandem with clear objectives, clearly prepared. The passengers were all wealthy and influential, their jewelry worth a fortune; once successful, they might slip away under cover of night or when docking.

He didn't raise an alarm—the ballroom was crowded and noisy, and a hasty warning might alert them or even provoke retaliation. More importantly, he wasn't sure if they had accomplices or if the crew was involved. Just then, the man in the waiter's uniform passed by with a tray of fresh champagne, pausing briefly as he neared Evan, his gaze quickly scanning the half-exposed watch chain in Evan's breast pocket, his greed intensifying. Evan's heart tightened, and he casually tucked the watch chain deeper into his pocket while raising his glass in a polite but distant smile toward the man.

The waiter froze for a moment, nodded hastily, and walked quickly toward the side door of the ballroom, apparently to report.

Evan withdrew his gaze, picked up his champagne again, his fingers tracing the cool glass. He no longer deliberately focused on the two figures, but kept his vigilance hidden in his eyes, blending into the surrounding laughter and chatter.

The man in the waiter's uniform later made several more trips with his tray, his eyes still lingering on the luxurious jewelry, but he never made a move—perhaps wary of the crowded ballroom, perhaps deterred by Evan's subtle interference, or perhaps waiting for a more opportune moment.

The other "manservant" stayed close to his master, occasionally approaching targets under the pretext of fetching wine or handing over a handkerchief, but only observing, never daring to act.

When the band struck up the final waltz, the light from the crystal chandelier seemed to soften. The couples on the dance floor slowed their steps, their faces carrying lingering smiles as they chatted about the dance steps and amusing moments. The champagne towers on the long tables were mostly empty, the pastries nearly gone, and the waiters began methodically clearing the dishes, their movements unhurried and composed.

The two suspicious figures moved with the crowd, the "manservant" still close to his master, his eyes occasionally darting toward the exits; the man in the waiter's uniform mingled with the other waiters, clearing cups and plates, and, when no one was looking, cast one last glance at the noblewoman with the pearl necklace before turning and heading toward the kitchen.