RNP Chapter 315 Trouble and Gentlemen
Chapter 315 Trouble and Gentlemen
Chapter 315 Trouble and Gentlemen
"It really is someone I know," Lorne muttered to himself.
If his spiritual intuition was correct, the pitiful-looking woman before him should be the one who sold him the "Instigator" potion at the "Eye of Wisdom" gathering.
However, judging from her current state, she doesn't seem much different from when we last met—the "premonition of disaster" is even slightly milder than before. Considering that I've already advanced, is she not yet? Or is she in a weakened state—
But she shouldn't recognize me now. My current appearance and this luxurious style of clothing are completely different from before.
Lorne glanced at her a few times, then bowed slightly, performing a standard gentlemanly gesture.
"Beautiful lady, do you need any help?"
Actually, the best approach would be to pretend he didn't see it and have the driver walk around it. But since he'd already been stopped, pretending nothing had happened in front of the driver would seem too cold-hearted and wouldn't fit his current "East District Hero" persona.
"It's too late, I can't get a taxi, could you give me a ride?" The woman's voice was weak, her eyes full of expectation.
"This—" Lorne glanced at the coachman beside him.
The driver, on the other hand, was very excited, seemingly eager to play the role of a helpful gentleman in front of the beautiful woman.
He seems to really want my help—and if the rumor gets out that the "East District Hero" refuses to help a girl in distress late at night, it won't sound good.
"Of course, miss. Please get in the car." Lorne bowed slightly in a very gentlemanly manner and opened the car door for her.
"Um."
Once aboard the carriage, Lorne glanced at the woman's slightly disheveled attire before asking, "Miss, where are you headed?"
"The dock, I want to go to the dock," the woman replied.
"The docks—" Lorne pursed his lips.
That's so foolish. I should have asked for the exact location first, and then politely declined on the grounds that it was too far. Now that they're already on the bus, it's inappropriate to just send them away.
"To the docks," Lorne said to the driver in the front seat.
"Yes, sir!" the driver in the front row replied cheerfully, then cracked his whip.
With the crisp sound of the reins being pulled, the carriage slowly started moving again.
"I wonder what Miss wants to do at the docks so late?" Lorne asked, feigning curiosity.
"Travel. I need to catch the ferry tomorrow morning."
"I see—" Lorne nodded slightly, wanting to say something more, but seeing that the other person kept his head down, looking like a stranger who didn't want to talk, he didn't bother to make a fool of himself.
He turned his head and looked out the small window of the carriage, watching the gas streetlights recede into the distance.
"Quite a few carriages," he murmured. These ornate carriages must belong to the guests who have just finished attending the party.
"Count Hall's — Viscount Della's —"
"And also—the royal family."
Royal Family!
Oh? !
Lorne keenly noticed that when he uttered the word "royalty," the woman opposite him visibly trembled.
There was definitely a problem. Sending her directly to the dock like this will probably get me into trouble—he rubbed the soft leather seat of the carriage, lost in thought.
After about ten minutes, Lorne looked out the window and estimated the distance.
"Stop." He suddenly spoke, not loudly, but loud enough for the driver to hear.
"What's wrong, sir?" The coachman was a little puzzled, but he immediately pulled on the reins and brought the carriage to a stop.
"We're not at the dock yet." The woman glanced out the window, her tone tinged with wariness.
"I'm very sorry, Miss." Lorne's expression was perfectly apologetic. "I suddenly remembered that there is a very urgent matter that needs to be dealt with nearby, so I'm afraid I can't take you to the dock anymore."
“But you don’t need to worry,” he continued in a gentle and convincing tone, “there’s a police station not far ahead. I can ask the officers there to take you there in a police carriage; it will be safer and faster that way.”
To be honest, if the party at the Backlund Police Headquarters hadn't just ended and there were still many dignitaries lingering there, Lorne would have even wanted to turn the carriage around and take her back to where he had just left.
"No—no need, I don't want to trouble the police officers," the woman quickly refused.
"How can this be considered trouble?" Lorne's smile became even more gentlemanly. "I have some connections with the sheriff. Besides, I'm sure the officers there would be more than happy to help a beautiful and charming lady like you."
"If it's really inconvenient, I can walk there myself." Seeing his insistence, the woman changed her words, trying to make him feel guilty.
"How can that be?" Lorne immediately retorted. "It's not the behavior of a gentleman to let such a beautiful lady walk alone on the streets late at night."
As he spoke, he stepped off the carriage first, then turned around and gestured for the woman inside to enter.
The woman frowned slightly; she knew she could no longer refuse. Faced with the other party's polite yet unquestionable demeanor, she could only reluctantly step down from the carriage.
Lorne walked ahead in a very gentlemanly manner, leading the way towards the police station with its gaslights on in the distance.
After walking a few steps, the woman suddenly stopped, stretched out her soft arms, and hugged Lorne's arm.
"Sir—" Her voice trembled slightly, and she looked up at him with pitiful eyes, "Actually—I'm in trouble. I barely managed to escape from home, so could you please not—"
"Why is it such a cliché reason again?" Lorne thought to himself silently, but his expression remained unchanged.
"Don't worry, whatever problem you encounter, the police will definitely help you."
He ignored her pitiful eyes and the soft touch of her gripping his arm, and continued leading her step by step toward the police station with its gaslights on.
"hateful!"
"We finally managed to catch him when he got the chance to leave!"
As the police station doors drew closer, the woman finally realized that the man in front of her was unyielding to both soft and hard tactics. She cursed under her breath, abruptly broke free from Lorne's grasp, and turned to flee without hesitation into the dark alleyway beside her.
"Uh—are you on the run?"
"We didn't use force because we were afraid of making a scene—"
Watching her retreating figure, Lorne stroked his chin, lost in thought.
"Forget it, let's not meddle in other people's business."
After a while, the coachman finally saw Lorne walking back slowly from the area where the gaslights were on.
"Sir?" the driver asked curiously, "Was that lady taken away by the police?"
Lorne shook his head, a hint of helplessness and lingering fear on his face.
"No. That lady suddenly ran off halfway to the police station."
He lowered his voice and analyzed, "I suspect tonight might be a trap. They're using a beautiful woman as bait in the dead of night, and once we reach the secluded dock, her accomplices might rush out and kidnap us."
"The dock area is sparsely populated, and it's nighttime, so it's unlikely anyone will notice for a while."
-
"This—this—" The coachman was terrified, his face pale under the gaslight. He was just an ordinary coachman; he had never experienced anything like this before.
Lorne patted him on the shoulder and comforted him, "Of course, this is just my guess, it might just be a misunderstanding."
I've already explained the situation to the police; the specifics are no longer our concern.
"Take me back."
Back in the carriage, Lorne immediately activated his spiritual vision, carefully scanning the entire carriage to make sure there was nothing that shouldn't have been left behind.
In his spiritual vision, he saw the faint spiritual presence of himself, the driver, and the woman from before remaining in the carriage; otherwise, everything was normal.
The only unusual thing was that he found a long black hair left in the spot where the woman had just sat.
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