You're Despicable

The air inside the compartment seemed to solidify.

Elias stared at the long strip of cloth peeking out from between Ophelia's fingers, then at the exceptionally exaggerated "pectoral muscles" on this "gentleman," which were now heave-hoing from her heavy breathing.

Well then.

This was a textbook case of massive social suicide.

The cloth, the curvature, the blatant attempt at disguise...

This was clearly a will to survive that had undergone high-intensity physical compression!

Elias felt his eyelid twitch.

He had originally thought she was just a simple, unlucky soul, but he hadn't expected her to be a ruthless person who could be so hard on herself.

With this level of binding, someone with a smaller lung capacity would have probably gone to meet the Mother Goddess due to oxygen deprivation before the train even left the station.

An awkward silence spread wildly through the narrow compartment.

Ophelia's hand was still frozen in mid-air, the hem of her shirt hung out, and her fake beard was halfway crooked from her earlier fright.

Her beautiful eyes were filled with shock, shame, and indignation.

Elias was the first to break the dead silence.

He leaned back slowly against the velvet backrest, crossing his arms and striking the cold pose of a black-hearted capitalist.

“I'll give you two minutes.”

Elias's voice was low and devoid of emotion, like the surface of a frozen lake in winter.

“Tell me why those mad dogs from Wayland are snapping at your heels.”

“Once you're done, get out.”

He casually glanced at his pocket watch, his tone brimming with the arrogance of an elite.

To be honest.

Originally, Elias didn't have the slightest bit of interest in prying.

But just now, upon learning it was Wayland's people pursuing her, his curiosity couldn't help but pique.

He was curious about one thing.

And that was this woman, who seemed perfectly ordinary aside from being good-looking and having a fair bit of courage.

What exactly had she done?

To have Wayland Capital launch a manhunt for her.

One had to remember that Elias himself had killed their employees, swallowed their pendulum, and even indirectly collapsed their collaborator's business.

He wondered if what she had done could possibly make Wayland Capital even more furious than he had.

Ophelia shrank back on the opposite side like a startled quail.

She looked at Elias's cold face and gritted her teeth, seemingly engaged in a final psychological struggle.

Two minutes.

This was her final countdown for survival.

“I stole...”

Her voice was as thin as a mosquito's buzz, carrying an unconscious tremor.

“I stole classified information from Wayland Capital's board of directors' archive room.”

“...”

Elias froze.

He slowly raised his head and re-evaluated the dusty woman before him.

He had been too hasty.

He took back his previous thought.

How was this girl just an unlucky soul?

She was practically a paragon among her peers, a champion among daredevils.

The board of directors' archive room.

What kind of place was that?

It was the core of the brain of the giant beast known as Wayland Capital, a vault containing countless predatory secrets.

To be able to steal something from that place and make it all the way to Hope County...

In a certain sense, this lady was indeed as impressive as he was.

In the realm of sheer recklessness, she even showed signs of surpassing him.

“Oho.”

Inside his mind, Old Ed's voice suddenly piped up from the dead again.

“I couldn't tell, but this little slip of a girl is quite the troublemaker.”

The old ghost clicked his tongue in wonder.

“Still, she's slightly less flamboyant than you; after all, you're the master of murder and robbery.”

Elias snorted coldly in his heart.

“Old man, do you even know what the words 'board of directors' archive room' mean?”

He questioned bluntly within his sea of consciousness.

“What?”

Old Ed's voice came back full of confusion.

“When I was alive, there were only the King's Cabinet and the Church's Forbidden Library.”

“This 'Board of Directors' you speak of... what kind of word is that? What kind of jargon?”

“Could it be a word she made up?”

Elias was completely speechless.

He decided to stop paying attention to this old fogey who was out of touch with the times by a full half-century.

Indeed, he had been dead for too long.

Many terms and organizational structures under modern capitalist operations simply didn't exist in an era that hadn't yet moved past a framework dominated by lords and the church.

The generational gap was large enough to fit a steam train through.

Elias turned his head, his gaze piercing as he stared at Ophelia.

“What did you steal?”

He got straight to the point, his tone carrying a faint, indiscernible threat.

“Classified information regarding what?”

Ophelia's body trembled slightly. She gripped her inner pocket tightly, her eyes darting away.

“This... Sir, I cannot tell you.”

She lifted her chin stubbornly, trying to uphold the last bit of professional ethics as a journalist.

“This involves my investigative principles, as well as the lives of my entire family.”

“Hmm?”

Elias raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, his shadow instantly looming over her.

“Miss Journalist from the Landon Post, I think you might not have grasped the situation yet.”

He let out a cold laugh.

“Right now, you are the one begging for my protection, not me undergoing an interview with you.”

“If you insist on your so-called 'cannot tell,' then I wouldn't mind opening the door right now and telling those security guards in the hallway who haven't gone far yet...”

As Elias spoke, he made a move as if to stand up.

“I'll tell them that beneath the floor of my compartment hides a little mouse with a fake beard.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! Don't!”

Ophelia was scared out of her wits. She lunged forward, grabbing Elias's sleeve.

“Please! Anything but that!”

Elias didn't care for her pleas and maintained his posture as if about to stand.

“I'll talk! I'll talk, alright?!”

Ophelia cried out with a sob in her voice, her eyes so sincere they looked like they were about to overflow.

Elias snorted coldly but didn't sit back down immediately.

He reached out and pulled the blackout curtain over the compartment door, ensuring no movement inside could be seen from the outside.

“Speak.”

He looked down at her from his height.

Ophelia looked at the drawn curtain, thinking this "black-hearted factory owner" had finally decided to show some mercy.

She immediately cast him a look of tearful gratitude, which made Elias feel a bit uneasy.

“My brother...”

Ophelia took a deep breath and began her story.

“Three years ago, he applied for a job at Wayland Shipping Company.”

“Since then, he completely vanished. He hasn't sent back so much as a single word.”

As she spoke, her tone was filled with sorrow.

“And so I...”

“Stop.”

Elias interrupted her impatiently, his tone blunt.

“Miss Moore, your time is limited.”

“Why don't you just start from the Big Bang while you're at it?”

“Skip the tear-jerking family background and get straight to the point.”

“Uh...”

Ophelia was choked up by his words and stood there dazed.

Though she indeed didn't understand what kind of high-end term "Big Bang" was...

Given her keen comprehension as a journalist...

The other party was clearly complaining that she was talking too much nonsense.

The compartment was silent for two seconds as the atmosphere became awkward again.

“Forget it.”

Elias looked at the dazed Ophelia and urged her helplessly.

“Just continue.”

“Oh! Right!”

Ophelia snapped back to her senses, her words coming out rapidly.

“And then he vanished! I found out he was on Wayland Shipping Company's dispatch list...”

Elias rubbed his chin, a flash of gloom passing through his eyes.

“Lighthouse keeper?”

He suddenly tossed out those two words.

Ophelia seemed as if she had been hit by a Freeze spell, turning completely stiff.

Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled.

“Yes...”

“How... How did you know?”

“Continue.”

Elias didn't answer her question, his tone remaining icy as if issuing an undeniable command.

“Oh...”

Ophelia suddenly felt a wave of overwhelming grievance.

This grievance completely erupted in this instant.

Her brother had been missing for three years, and she had worked herself to the bone to enter the Landon Post.

She had finally found some clues to the truth, only to be wanted across the city, scurrying through ventilation ducts and hiding under seats like a mouse.

Now, she had finally managed to hide in a place that looked civilized.

Yet she had to face a cold, arrogant, and heartless rich man.

Not only did she have to endure physical discomfort, but she also had to follow his near-interrogative pace, tearing open her scars bit by bit.

She suddenly felt that the hardships she had experienced and the truth she had risked her life to steal...

In the eyes of these wealthy people who held fortune and power...

Weren't worth any sympathy at all, much less any form of selfless help.

“He...”

Ophelia's voice choked up, and tears began to well in her beautiful eyes.

Large teardrops slid down her dust-covered cheeks, leaving comical streaks on her fake beard.

“?”

Elias looked at the scene before him, feeling bewildered and even a bit at a loss.

What was wrong with this woman?

She was talking just fine, so why did she suddenly start flooding the place with her tears?

“What happened to him? Just say it!”

Elias asked, feeling a bit frantic.

“I haven't even done anything to you!”

“The ones hunting you are from Wayland, not me!”

In all his life, Elias only knew how to coax his precious sister at home.

How was he supposed to coax a woman who was weeping like a rain-washed pear blossom and had scammed her way into his compartment?

And now you're acting like the victim?

I'm practically your brother's colleague, do you see me complaining about being a victim?

“I'm sorry!”

Ophelia let out a suppressed wail, wiping her tears desperately with the back of her hand.

“But I just want to cry, dammit!”

Her final line of defense completely collapsed.

Ophelia stopped acting altogether. Disregarding her identity and image, she sat on the floor and began to wail.

It had to be said.

In this dark and cold world, a woman's crying sometimes had more piercing power than any supernatural spell.

Even the ghost couldn't bear to listen anymore.

“Alright, that's enough.”

Old Ed sighed in the sea of consciousness, his tone unexpectedly carrying a hint of soft-heartedness.

“You too, boy. Why be so harsh to a young girl?”

“At least try to comfort her. This crying is making my spiritual body feel like it's about to crack.”

“Aren't you even a little curious about the details regarding Moon Bay and the lighthouses in that file?”

“Old man.”

Elias took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the turmoil in his heart.

“Is that your curiosity overflowing?”

“I'm embarrassed to even call you out.”

“You just don't want to see a pretty girl suffer; you're just lusting after her body.”

“You're despicable.”