Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 169. Search

Having changed into her new outfit, Margaret sauntered along the bustling streets of the harbor district. With people passing by her without sparing a second glance, her spirits lifted, and she started humming a jovial tune.

Taking in her surroundings as she strolled, her sensitive nose suddenly picked up the scent of charred delights.

"Gina, look! There's a stall selling charcoal-grilled mackerel. Let's have a bite."

Grabbing Gina by the wrist, the duo sprinted toward a food stall in the distance. The driver had also changed into a modest outfit and was vigilantly observing their surroundings.

His tense expression only relaxed ever so slightly when he caught sight of a dark silhouette on the rooftop where light didn't reach.

The officers from District 7 had arrived. The harbor would be safe for now.

With a grilled mackerel skewer in hand, Margaret continued on her path forward. The people around her weren't particularly clean and well-groomed, and the ground had occasional puddles of murky water and strewn litter, Margaret felt happy walking down such streets for some inexplicable reason.

The harbor district was ever so lively, bustling and chaotic.

Everyone was hustling for their daily lives.

Ships of varying sizes crisscrossed the waters, and numerous steamboats were anchored at the docks to load and unload cargo. Sturdy laborers, drenched in sweat, tirelessly transported goods to and fro.

Gina covered her nose as she sidestepped to avoid a group of sailors smoking cigarettes. "Miss, are you really having fun here? I heard that the Tuna Theatre had released a new romantic play. Shall we go there instead?"

Margaret shook her head and said, "Those plays are all the same, portraying how love will overcome all odds and receive a happy ending. The new play is just the same plot line repackaged with new identities for the male and female protagonists. Reality is far from that."

Unswayed by Gina's suggestion, Margaret continued her exploration of the harbor area. At the sight of any tantalizing food or intriguing activities, she wouldn't hesitate to stop and give it a go herself.

As they ventured deeper, the street grew narrower, and a pungent smell started to fill the air. A couple of deranged figures could also be seen around the corners.

Spotting these disheveled madmen, Margaret let out a sigh.

She knew she wouldn't be able to do much for them.

Even if she were to send this group that she saw to the asylum, a fresh wave would replace them soon enough. They were the ever-present specters of the district, appearing and vanishing without a trace.

Margaret walked past them and continued her way. Before long, she had arrived at the outskirts of the harbor district.

A shabby hut stood by the seaside. Apart from a young boy munching on his food at the doorway, there was no one else in sight.

Intrigued, Margaret approached with a smile on her face. "Hey, your food looks delicious. What are you having?"

Alarmed by Margaret's sudden appearance, the young boy quickly hid the black bread egg sandwich behind him and darted into the hut, not forgetting to bolt the door behind him.

A light chuckle escaped Margaret's lips. She was just saying hello. Did he really think that she would steal his food?

Seeing that her attempt to strike a conversation had failed, Margaret briskly walked toward the shoreline and peered toward the vast, inky expanse before her.

"Miss, it's getting late. We should go back now," the burly driver-cum-bodyguard reminded as his eyes warily scanned the dark waters.

He could handle any potential threats on the streets, but fending off an attacker from the waters was beyond his capability.

Margaret allowed her gaze to linger over the waters for another silent moment before she turned on her heel. "This little outing has been more refreshing than any play of afternoon tea. Let's head back now."

As they retraced their steps, a familiar voice made Margaret stop abruptly, especially when they were just passing the gathering of madmen.

"Anna, wait for a moment. Let me finish this round."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she immediately turned around to seek the source of that voice among the disheveled figures. She couldn't understand that language, but that voice was all too familiar.

"Miss, what's wrong?" Gina inquired with curiosity.

Margaret's eyes darted about the grimy throng but failed to find the person she sought. Hesitantly, she said, "It's nothing... Let's go."

The three then traversed through the bustling streets and soon reached the residential district. With a thud, the car door was shut. Seated in the car, Margaret's brows were pressed together as her thoughts consumed her.

The tires started rolling, and the vehicle embarked on its journey from the residential area toward the Governor's Mansion.

However, before the car could travel far, an anxious voice called out, "Stop the car! Right now!"

The car screeched to a halt. With visible anxiety on her face, Margaret hurriedly flung the door open and sprinted toward the harbor district.

In her hurry, she stumbled, and the white heel of her shoe snapped off. Without regard for the dirty ground, she discarded both her shoes and dashed forward, her sheer stockings the only barrier between her feet and the street.

"Miss, whatever it is that you want to do, tell me. I'll do everything in my power to assist you," the driver said between gasps as he ran to catch up with Margaret.

This was the first time he had ever seen their young mistress so frenzied.

Margaret ignored her driver's words and pressed on ahead. The moment she spotted the congregation of madmen in the distance, she hastened her pace.

With a maniacal intensity, she dashed into the crowd and scanned every single face she came across. Blank stares adorning dirt-smeared visages blurred past her, but she failed to find the face that she had been desperately yearning to find.

Suddenly, the familiar voice echoed once more. "Lily, press here to turn it on."

Margaret pivoted, and her eyes landed on the madman who had just spoken. Standing in the gutter, he held a decaying rat in his hand while he mumbled off in an incomprehensible language.

She reached out a trembling hand to wipe the filth of the lunatic's face. At the sight of that distinctive scar that marred his face, her emotions crumbled. She threw herself into his embrace and burst into tears.

In the Governor's Mansion, the pristine ivory tub was swiftly tainted black from all the grime, only to be rapidly rinsed away by warm water.

With reddened eyes, Margaret tenderly wiped the dirt off Charles' face with her own face towel.

Gina, her head attendant, stood agape and watched in disbelief.

The young mistress actually refuses to let me help and insists on bathing this lunatic herself?!

Gina was well aware of her young mistress' innate aversion to men. However, she was tending so affectionately to a madman.

Who in the world is he?

When the layers of filth were washed away, Charles' visage was presented before Margaret. A thick beard covered most of his lower face, his unkempt hair tumbled wildly about, and there was a certain weariness in his eyes.

The black ink from the tattoo on his neck had crawled up to his face, making him nearly unrecognizable from the man she had known three years ago.

Margaret's fingertips gently traced over the scars that crisscrossed his chest, tears welled up in her eyes.

How much have you suffered all these years? How did you end up like this?

"Mr. Charles," Margaret softly called out. "Do you remember me? I'm Margaret."

Charles' eyes stared blankly into space; Margaret's words had failed to attract his attention.

Margaret lowered her head as an array of emotions—pain, worry, anxiety, and heartache—welled up within her.

"AAAHHH!" A sudden sharp cry pulled Margaret out of her grieving state.

"Gina, what's wrong?" Margaret asked.

"Miss, look at his amputated shoulder...." Gina's voice trembled with a tinge of terror.

Margaret's gaze turned toward the stump of Charles' missing arm to find it infested with writhing white maggots. They wriggled and burrowed eagerly into the flesh.

"Mr. Charles, wait here! I'll get a doctor right away!" Panic consumed Margaret as she dashed toward the bathroom door.

Just as she flung the door open and turned, she crashed into a solid, muscular chest.

She lifted her gaze to meet the eyes of her brother, Jack.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked with a calm expression.