Chapter: 391

Charlie turned his head in amazement, and glanced at Lumian: "Your thinking is a bit extreme."

He continued: "The second damn thing is Margot. He is the leader of the Stinger Gang. He likes to find someone to deceive the women who just came to Trier, and after they squeeze out their money, they force them to become street girls. This is how Miss Yin Sangsi in Room 8 on the 4th floor settled in the hotel. Most of the money she earned was taken away by Margot. She tried to escape several times, but she couldn't get out of the chaotic streets and was beaten half to death."

There are quite a lot of gangsters in the market area, no wonder it is so chaotic at night... Lumian glanced at Charlie and said, "It sounds like you have sympathy for that Miss Yin Sangsi."

Charlie puffed out his chest: "A true Intis gentleman will sympathize with the tragic experience of the ladies and is willing to provide some help when appropriate."

Lumian said "hmm", "Do you know where Marget lives?"

"I don't know." Charlie shook his head, "But he often comes to the hotel in the evening to take money from Miss Yin Sansi. If you hear women crying and cursing on the fourth floor, it should be Maggot and his men are coming down."

Lumian nodded slightly, and asked thoughtfully, "Who else do you think should die?"

Charlie thought about it, and replied with a slightly distorted expression: "Monit, that archipelago, he lied to me 10 Filkins!

"Can you believe it? At that time, I had been unemployed for a while and hadn't found a new job. It was my last savings, and I almost starved to death!"

"Where does he live?" Lumian asked casually.

After calming down for a while, Charlie looked at Lumian suspiciously and asked, "Why is your hair different?"

There are long and short, golden with black.

"Don't you think this is very fashionable?" Lumian asked sincerely.

Charlie said "What?" with a skeptical look on his face.

What happened to the idiot instrument made him instinctively suspect Lumian's purpose in similar matters.

After a few seconds, Charlie glanced at the hawkers on the street, waved his hands and said, "I should go to the hotel, see you tonight."

Lumian didn't get up, but still sat on the stone steps outside the hotel, waving at the back of Charlie who left in a hurry.

In the afternoon, Lumian took a public carriage to the botanical garden, and then walked more than 300 meters to the Mason Cafe.

This cafe is located near the botanical garden, on the ground floor of a four-story off-white building.

The outer wall of this building is wrapped with strips of green plants. The shops on the ground floor are not directly facing the street, but are shrunk inward by nearly one meter, allowing the pillars to support the outer corridor for passers-by to walk on.

The walls of Mason's Cafe were painted dark green, with many large windows open. The sunlight penetrated through the glass, illuminating the tables and chairs placed all the way outside the door.

Lumian walked into the cafe in a dark formal suit and a wide-brimmed round hat.

The first thing that catches his eyes is the artistic statues of various plants on the wall, among which some sentences written in Intis are scattered: "Who controls the supreme power of the country? Is it the president or the parliament?" It is coffee. Pavilion!

"Who decides the final appeal in judicial cases? Is it the Supreme Court?" It's a coffee shop!

"Who's the authority on literature? The Intis Literary Academy, or the Debate?

"No, it's a cafe, it's still a cafe!" (Note 1)

Note 1: Adapted from the opening chapter of "Paris Café History", and this is quoted from a document in the early 20th century. The original text is too long, so it has been simplified. PS: Ask for a double monthly ticket~

Seeing the "slogan" on the wall, Lumian couldn't help but smile.

"In Trier, the café has a very special status. It is the starting point of riots, the sanctuary of intrigue, and the source of gossip."

In the history of Intis, I don’t know how many riots started from the communication in the cafe, and I don’t know how many literary works and political disputes fermented in the cafe.