Chapter Thirty-One: Joy of Reunion

The atmosphere in the tavern grew imperceptibly stagnant.

Hugh and Rascher paused simultaneously, as if the scene were a film stuttering on a jammed reel, freezing into a fixed frame.

The freeze lasted only a fleeting second. Hugh’s hand, holding the identification, merely faltered for a moment before his eyes filled with a look of "pleasant surprise." He opened the investigator’s badge, examined it closely for a moment, and laughed. "So, you are Officer Rascher. Goodness, you startled me. If you had told me earlier that you were an agent from the Department of Legal Affairs, I wouldn’t have been so nervous."

He handed the credentials back to Rascher. "I am terribly sorry about getting your clothes wet; please believe me, I will certainly compensate you."

His demeanor was that of a helpless lamb suddenly finding a protector, his face beaming with delighted relief.

Rascher did not see any sign of abnormal behavior—no tension, panic, or hasty attempts to make excuses and leave—which left him somewhat disappointed.

As for Hugh wetting his clothes, was it a coincidence or intentional? Like Hugh Glair, a flicker of doubt rose in Rascher’s mind.

Slowly taking back his badge, Rascher slipped it into his inner pocket and smiled at Hugh. "It’s quite alright. Please believe that I had no intention of concealing my identity. It’s just that, you know, in a place where trouble is so easily found, flashing one’s status..." He gave a helpless shrug. "...often invites unwanted malice. I only meant to protect you."

Hugh quickly sat down beside Rascher and leaned toward his ear. "You are quite right. But regardless, being able to sit next to an investigator makes me feel much more at ease. Thank you very much for your concern."

He patted his chest. "I swear I won't do anything as foolish as that again. I hope no one noticed your credentials, I mean... other than me."

After a moment's thought, he added, "Perhaps I should treat you to something good." Hugh signaled the bartender. "Do you have any Tianshi whisky?"

"Yes, sir, but that is a very expensive drink."

"I can afford it." Hugh tossed ten gold Viters onto the bar. "Bring a bottle over. I want to have a few good drinks with this gentleman beside me."

"I can tell you come from a wealthy family," Rascher remarked, seizing the opportunity to offer a compliment.

"The Dardanelles family," Hugh replied. "Sisser Dardanelle, that is my name."

"Jason Rascher, as you already know. A pleasure to meet you." Rascher extended his hand.

The two men shook hands.

"If you'll forgive me for being blunt, judging by your attire and speech, you must come from a prominent lineage. Yet, strangely, why have I never heard the name Dardanelles?" Rascher asked.

Hugh chuckled softly. "The Empire’s families are as numerous as the stars in the sky. Are you certain you know every single one? Besides, I am not from some noble house; I come from a merchant family. Aside from having a bit of money, we have nothing else."

"Oh, would you care to tell me about your family?"

"Professional habit? Do you enjoy prying into other people’s backgrounds?"

Rascher shrugged. "True, it is just a habit. Do you know? The moment I first saw you, you gave me a certain feeling."

"What kind of feeling?"

"A... very special feeling. You remind me of an old friend," Rascher smiled.

"I am deeply honored. Judging by your accent, you are not from here, are you?"

"No, I am not. But Mr. Dardanelle, your accent isn't from here either."

"Indeed, it is not."

"That is quite interesting. May I ask where you are from?"

Hugh thought for a moment and replied, "The sea."

Rascher’s eyes brightened. "Wow, the sea. That old friend of mine also came from the sea. May I ask what the Dardanelles family does for a living?"

Hugh shrugged and began to weave the lie about the Dardanelles family he had prepared long ago. Rascher listened, interjecting with questions from time to time. His method of questioning was clever; he would suddenly drop a line that often seemed disconnected from what Hugh was describing, yet held a subtle, hidden link. What caught Hugh’s attention most was that Rascher clearly understood the art of interrogation. He was not interested in the narrative Hugh provided; on the contrary, he focused on the details.

For instance, when Hugh spoke of his father’s death, Rascher asked exactly where it happened and at what time. What did the octopus look like? Did it make a sound when it ate people? How long did it take to digest a person? Why was his uncle able to return alive, and so on.

Some of these questions seemed completely unrelated, yet they were secretly intertwined. If Hugh answered poorly, it could easily lead to a contradiction in his lies, thereby exposing his identity.

Rascher had connected all his questions into a minefield.

If it weren't for the fact that Hodin and the others had taught him how to craft a lie, and that Igor Ashlin and Brian Buckler had coached him on how to handle interrogations by the Department of Legal Affairs, perhaps just a few of those seemingly insignificant, simple questions would have been enough to defeat him.

"You know, the scene was far too chaotic at the time. As a child, I was terrified. Also, Mr. Rascher, I must say your questions are not very gentlemanly; you are forcing me to relive a painful past."

"Oh, I am truly sorry," Rascher said quickly. "Look at me, always like this. I keep asking about things that pique my curiosity without ever considering others' feelings. I hope I haven't caused you any distress."

"It’s alright. In truth, so much time has passed that the wounds in my heart have gradually healed."

"So, the Dardanelles family came to Royo City to expand from the sea? To escape that perilous life on the water?"

"Precisely," Hugh replied.

In reality, after discovering the other man's identity, Hugh had been cursing the heavens in his heart.

He was like a long-hunted prey who, just as he was busy setting traps and laying bait in his own territory, had inadvertently run straight into his pursuer. All his prior arrangements had become useless; only improvisation could determine the final outcome.

If there was any chance left, it was that Rascher could not be certain he was Hugh Glair. He had never met him before, and Hugh had undergone a complete transformation in appearance. Even the ring that Christine had recognized had been disguised with a large, embedded ruby, making him look like a typical nouveau riche.

Hugh believed that Rascher’s suspicion and questioning were initially just professional instinct. But after he successfully probed Hugh's capacity for fighting energy, and Hugh had in turn discovered his identity, everything had taken a dramatic turn—the very act of probing, which had initially been a sign of excellence, now became the reason for the other’s suspicion.

There was no doubt that Rascher would increase his level of suspicion, rapidly transitioning from instinctive probing to conscious pursuit.

This was a terrible consequence. Hugh would have preferred to never know who the man was and simply left.

Now that this fellow was relentless, if he continued to press him step by step, Hugh would eventually slip up.

When an opponent’s attack is relentless, relying solely on defense is not enough to solve the problem. Hugh sensed this keenly.

"Why dwell only on me? Mr. Rascher, I am actually more interested in the work of the Department of Legal Affairs. Boring family business gives me a headache; there is no excitement in it. If I had the choice, I would rather be an investigator like you. I saw from your badge that you are a commander of some operation? That must mean you are a very prominent figure."

"I merely hold a certain degree of authority over a specific case."

"Even so, that is remarkable. I am sure you are quite outstanding; your experiences in cracking cases must be thrilling."

"They are indeed thrilling. You know we are always dealing with vicious criminals; many times, we must risk our lives."

"Perhaps you would be willing to share some of your exciting stories with me?" Hugh countered, seizing the opportunity. "For instance, why have you come to Royo City? Are you tracking some criminal?"

"Oh, I am looking for an old friend—a friend I have known in spirit for a long time but have never had the chance to meet. I have been searching for him everywhere, but he is always mysterious and unwilling to show himself."

"That is interesting. How did you know he would be in Royo City?"

"Because he left me some information, at least, to remind me to come here and find him."

"A game of hide-and-seek?"

Rascher chuckled. "Exactly. My friend seems to enjoy games, so here I am."

"I suspect no one can escape the search of the Department of Legal Affairs."

"Of course, no one ever has."

"It is truly surprising. I often cannot imagine, when a cunning criminal hides in the vast sea of people, what methods the investigators use to find them? I mean, the world is so large, how can you be certain where the other party is? You know, young people are always interested in detective stories. Perhaps you could teach me something?" Hugh poured more wine into Rascher’s glass.

"Oh, thank you, but that is a complex matter. Why don't we continue talking about the Dardanelles family?"

"What is there to talk about regarding family business? I think catching criminals is far more exciting."

"Oh, just some minor tricks, hardly worth boasting about. On the contrary, business—that is where human wisdom is truly reflected."

"But I would still like to hear about it; I think catching criminals is the only exciting thing," Hugh laughed.

"It seems we envy each other."

"People always care about what they cannot have."

Both men laughed at the same time.

The two of them were like practitioners of Tai Chi, pushing the conversation toward the other as much as possible.

In Rascher’s eyes, any attempt to probe whether the other was Hugh Glair was a perfectly normal professional necessity. From the moment he first saw the young man, he felt there was more to him than met the eye. He was like a veiled beauty, with "stories and secrets" written behind the veil.

Especially after Hugh wetted his coat and discovered his true identity, Rascher felt that if this were not a coincidence, the man’s identity was worth scrutinizing.

He was like someone who had seen a mysterious beauty and longed to lift her veil to see what lay beneath. It was just that this "beauty’s" veil did not seem easy to remove. For Hugh, shifting the focus of the questions onto Rascher himself was the best way to avoid saying too much, while also learning more about the man's secrets.

This made their interaction filled with a comical dramatic tension. They were hiding their own inner secrets while trying to dig out the other’s. Rascher wanted to know if the man was Hugh Glair, while Hugh wanted to know how much suspicion Rascher had, whether Rascher had come alone, and whether he should act decisively to eliminate his opponent to remove the threat!

They were like opponents sitting at a negotiation table with grenades in hand, laughing and chatting on the surface while concealing murderous intent underneath.

They spoke empty words to one another, exhausting every method to probe, question, and evade...

Perhaps in the next second, the tavern would be drenched in blood.

The air in the tavern became clouded with a chilling, desolate lethargy.

"I have had enough to drink, Mr. Rascher," Hugh said, setting down his glass. "It is time to go back."

"Leaving so soon?"

"Yes. But..." Hugh leaned to Rascher’s ear. "I remember you promised to give me a lift. I am very worried that after I leave, someone might follow me, coveting my wealth. But if an investigator from the Department of Legal Affairs were to accompany me, I would feel much safer."

"I would be more than happy to provide you with an escort," Rascher said, picking up his soaked coat.

As he walked, his legs began to sway. "Oh, I have had a bit too much. Young Master Dardanelle, could you support me?"

"No problem." Hugh stepped forward to assist him.

Rascher appeared to be trying to grab Hugh’s shoulder, but his hand accidentally reached for Hugh’s glasses.

Hugh tilted his head back, dodging the grab. "Take it easy, Mr. Rascher, you nearly knocked off my glasses."

"Oh, I am truly drunk, I apologize. But perhaps you would see more clearly without them; I mean... what is your prescription?" Rascher slurred, shaking his head violently and looking dizzy.

"It is not very high," Hugh replied coldly.

He supported Rascher as they walked out of the tavern, strolling along the empty city streets and chatting casually.

They looked just like a pair of old friends.

The night streets of Royo City were desolate and deep, with almost no pedestrians in sight.

Occasionally, a stray cat would wail in the night, its cry piercing and mournful.

A drunkard walked past, singing loudly, before stumbling into a gutter by the road. Cold gusts of wind blew, making one shiver uncontrollably.

Hugh supported Rascher as they walked through the empty streets.

"Oh! It is a pleasure to meet you, Young Master Dardanelle. Youth is a wonderful thing. Look at me, I am nearly fifty; I am getting old. Look, my hair is turning white." Rascher pointed to his head.

"Only a little."

"Perhaps I should dye it. What color do you think would suit me? I mean, if you had that kind of... potion, perhaps you could give me a bottle?"

"That is for you to decide, and I do not have such potions."

"That is a pity," Rascher muttered.

"Mr. Rascher, it seems you are truly very drunk. I don’t think you are in a condition to see me home; I had better return on my own."

"Oh, no, no, don't leave." Rascher grabbed Hugh’s hand. "Tell me where you live? I can see you home. Don't forget, I am an investigator, the bane of criminals. Bad guys run away the moment they see me!"

Hugh noted that his grip on his hand was firm and strong, not at all like a man who was drunk.

"Is that so?" Hugh chuckled. "Thank you, Mr. Rascher. I forgot to tell you, we have already left the danger zone. I mean, look, there is no one behind us. No one is trying to track me for my money, nor are there any of your men following to protect you. I assumed that as a commander of a major operation, you would have protection. But it seems you are operating alone today."

Rascher’s grip on Hugh’s hand loosened slightly.

Hugh noticed his body sway just a little, and a smug smile appeared on his face.

Then he continued, "So you see, Mr. Rascher, it is safe here now. Since there are no bad guys, there is no threat to our lives. We don't need to walk together anymore, do we? We can each go home."

Rascher nodded. "You are right, young man. If there were bad guys, I would surely be in trouble."

His hand released completely.

Hugh turned to leave.

Rascher suddenly called out from behind, "May I know where you are staying, Young Master Dardanelle?"

"The Silent Island Grand Hotel, top floor," Hugh replied.

"I will come to see you when I have time. I mean... it is not easy to find someone you can talk to in this world, is it? It was a pleasure chatting with you."

Hugh turned back to look at Rascher, his expression calm. "Yes, Mr. Rascher, I am also glad to have chatted with you. You are a talkative and interesting man. I look forward to our next meeting."

Rascher nodded, thought for a moment, and said, "Very well. Perhaps I will bring a friend to see you."

"The Dardanelles family will wait with sincere anticipation for your visit." Hugh made an elegant gesture of invitation.

A carriage stopped beside Hugh. He jumped in with a nimble, agile movement, without the slightest hesitation.

He waved to Rascher from inside the carriage, and as the driver cracked the whip, the wheels rolled away, gradually vanishing into the vast darkness of the night.

Rascher gazed into the dark distance, his eyes, which had appeared clouded by drunkenness, slowly beginning to brighten.