Chapter 171

Chapter 171

The "footman's" face turned pale instantly, and he instinctively tried to flee, but was pinned down by a crew member. He struggled and roared, "What right do you have to arrest me? I haven't done anything!"

Just then, the man in the steward's uniform emerged from the kitchen with a tray. Seeing this, his face changed dramatically, and he turned and ran toward the lower decks—clearly intending to alert his accomplices.

Evan stood in the shadows at the end of the corridor, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings. Based on his earlier observations, the thieves should have numbered only three: the "steward," the "footman," and the sailor accomplice. But at this moment, his keen perception caught the sound of a fourth person's breathing coming from the stairwell—very faint, yet carrying a deliberately suppressed hostility.

He looked up and saw a dark figure crouching on the stair railing, gripping a pistol, ready to shoot the detective in the back while he was focused on the "footman." The figure wore ordinary passenger clothes, a nondescript middle-aged man from the ball earlier, whom Evan had never connected to the thieves.

Without a moment's hesitation, Evan flicked a coin from his pocket. The coin whistled through the air, striking the wall lamp beside the stairs with a crisp "clang," shattering the tense atmosphere of the corridor.

The detective reacted swiftly, turning his head just in time to catch sight of the shadowy figure on the stairs. He barked, "Who's there!" while signaling the crew to be on guard. The shadow, thwarted in his ambush, grew furious and prepared to fire, but a second coin struck his wrist, sending the pistol clattering to the ground.

Taking the chance, the detective stepped forward and pulled open the footman's waistband, revealing the lock-picking tools hidden there, matching the outline on the note perfectly.

The "steward" had barely reached the lower deck entrance when he was intercepted by the assistant and crew members lying in wait, with no escape. The sailor accomplice, hearing the commotion, tried to flee but was caught red-handed by crew members stationed at the storage room door.

In just a few minutes, all four thieves were apprehended. The detective ordered them taken to the purser's office, then walked to the end of the corridor, his gaze settling on Evan with a hint of curiosity. "That coin you flicked—it was you, wasn't it?" Evan didn't deny it, merely nodding calmly. "A small gesture. I didn't want to see anyone get shot in the back."

The detective smiled and extended his hand. "I'm Gray, a professional detective. That's my assistant, John. Thanks for the warning—I might have been in trouble otherwise."

"Evan." He shook Gray's hand briefly, their fingers barely touching before letting go.

Gray didn't press Evan about his identity, simply saying, "These people might have buyers behind them. Once we dock and hand them over to the authorities, we can trace the leads." He paused, then added, "You seemed to have noticed them earlier?"

"I saw them at the ball. Their eyes gave them away." Evan didn't elaborate, leaving it at that. Gray nodded in understanding, didn't pry further, and turned to handle the aftermath.

The rest wasn't Evan's problem. Though the steamship was faster than a wooden sailboat and could sail day and night, it would still take seven days to reach the Sala Empire's colony. With the thieves among the passengers caught, Evan figured the rest of the trip would be smoother.

The sea breeze swept in with a salty, damp scent. The setting sun hung just above the horizon, painting the entire sky and sea in a molten gold and fiery blaze.

The sunset resembled a massive, red-hot amber, its edges bleeding into layers of radiance—from a core of blazing red, transitioning to warm orange, then spreading into soft pink and purple, finally fading into the pale blue at the horizon. The layers were distinct yet seamlessly blended, so beautiful you couldn't look away. The sea sparkled, each wave gilded with fragments of gold, rolling and shimmering with a brilliance that was dazzling yet not harsh. From a distance, it seemed as if the entire ocean was ablaze, or scattered with countless broken diamonds.

Occasionally, seabirds spread their wings and glided through the glow, their black silhouettes stark against the vibrant backdrop, their fleeting forms adding a touch of life to the static beauty. White smoke from the ship's chimney, bathed in the sunset, turned into a faint golden mist, drifting slowly through the air, intertwining with the glow in a hazy, dreamlike scene.

Just as Evan leaned against the railing, a hurried patter of footsteps reached his ears.

A young noblewoman in a canary-yellow lace dress rushed past him like a gust of wind, her skirt brushing his arm, leaving a faint scent of roses. Before Evan could react, she had climbed onto the railing, gripping the cold iron bars, her slender figure teetering in the sunset. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she murmured, "What's the point of living..."

Evan's pupils contracted, and he instinctively took half a step forward. A brown-haired man followed closely behind, wearing a faded white shirt with frayed cuffs and dusty shoes, clearly out of place among the ship's opulent atmosphere. Yet his features were handsome, his eyes filled with anxiety. He rushed to the railing, reaching out to pull the girl back. "Lillian! Don't be rash! Let's talk this out!"

"Don't touch me!" The girl jerked her hand away, her voice thick with tears. "You don't understand! Father is forcing me to marry that old man, just for his title and wealth. I'd sooner die than marry him!"

The man's voice trembled with urgency, but he dared not approach further, begging from a step away. "I do understand! Of course I do! But jumping into the sea won't solve anything. We can find a way to escape—I'll take you somewhere no one can find us, and we'll live together!"

Evan stood aside, watching this familiar scene, and couldn't help but think to himself—this plot was straight out of *Titanic*: a poor boy and a rich girl rebelling against an arranged marriage, even the suicide attempt was identical. He didn't want to meddle, knowing everyone's choices were their own, but seeing the despair in the girl's eyes, he couldn't help but speak up. "The sea breeze is strong, and the railing is slippery. If you move another inch forward, you'll fall, and there'll be no chance to regret it."

His voice was calm and flat, yet it doused the tense atmosphere like cold water. The girl froze, turning to look at Evan, her tear-filled eyes full of confusion.

The brown-haired man seized the moment. "He's right! Lillian! Think about it—even if not for yourself, think of our promise! We said we'd go to the colony together to see the rubber trees, remember?"

The girl's shoulders trembled slightly, her grip on the railing loosening. Seeing this, Evan quietly stepped back, leaving the space to them—matters of the heart are best left to the people involved; a little nudge was enough.