Hugh had been in the bounty hunting business for a long time; many things didn't require thinking, she could react instinctively.
As soon as she saw the entering customer was nearly two meters tall, she instinctively lowered her head and continued eating pork sausages and french fries as if nothing had happened.
The food entered her mouth, but Hugh couldn't taste anything. She endured for dozens of seconds before slowly raising her head, pretending to casually look around.
Soon, she saw the customer who had just entered sitting at the bar, waiting for a drink and lunch.
Soft, slightly curly pale yellow hair, beastly dark brown eyes, a slightly drooping mouth, a solitary and fierce temperament... Every detail registered in Hugh's pupils, gradually overlapping with the image in her mind.
It's him!
The suspected murderer!
The murderer of Williams!
Hugh lowered her head again, slowly stuffing the remaining food into her mouth.
Several minutes later, she placed the plate and glass on the bar, then left the Workers' Union Tavern without looking aside or back.
— Because of the raised heels on her boots, she had effectively concealed her most obvious characteristic.
Outside, Hugh slowed down, found a secluded spot nearby, and observed the people coming and going from the tavern.
After waiting a while, she finally spotted an acquaintance, Burton, a skilled worker living in the East District and working at the East Byron Docks.
This young man liked to treat himself to a cheap rye beer at noon or afternoon; his salary could only afford that kind of beer, and not even every day.
Hugh quickly slipped over, tapped Burton on the shoulder, and said in a low voice:
"It's me, Hugh."
"Hugh?" Burton looked up and down at the short man beside and behind him, almost failing to recognize this was the "Arbiter" Hugh Dillcha, famous in some streets of the East District.
"I have something to ask you." Hugh pointed to a corner nearby.
Burton followed doubtfully, and only when they were out of sight did he realize and ask:
"Are you on a bounty mission?"
He had heard that Hugh was also a bounty hunter.
"Hmm." Hugh nodded perfunctorily, took out five 1-penny copper coins, tossed them, and asked, "Do you know that very tall man in the tavern?"
"You mean this tall, with pale yellow hair, the fierce one?" Burton gestured.
"Yes." Hugh then took out a folded portrait, unfolded it, and said, "You must be absolutely sure."
"It's him. He's been coming to this tavern often in the last two or three months. I hadn't seen him before. He's fierce, completely unreasonable, and very good at fighting. You'd better not mess with him." Burton glanced at the portrait carefully and offered a sincere warning.
Hmm, when I saw that person just now, it was like encountering a wild beast as a child, a feeling that he was very dangerous, no match, must avoid immediately... Hugh breathed a sigh inwardly and asked:
"Do you know who he is closely connected with?"
"I don't know. He's very unsociable, rarely talks, no one even knows his name. We gave him a nickname, 'The Giant'." Burton shrugged and shook his head.
Hugh thought for a moment and asked again:
"Besides the tavern, where else have you met him?"
"You can ask your friends the same question. Remember, they must be friends you trust enough."
Burton recalled and said:
"When I go to the Dock Workers' Union, at the East Byron Docks' union, I occasionally see him around. Hugh, why aren't you a union member? You are so fair. But those guys not only charge us 1.5 sols a week in dues, but when other docks strike and we have to support our families, they also make us hand over half our wages!"
"Lord, even that is tolerable; for a better life, we must help each other. But as soon as they organize a strike, they turn around and reach an agreement with the lawyers sent by the rich, and our situation doesn't improve at all!"
"Stop, stop." Hugh pressed her right palm down and said, "Other than that, you haven't seen that 'Giant' anywhere else?"
"No, and my friends shouldn't have either, since we often talk about him privately." Burton replied in a certain tone.
Hugh didn't say more, gave him the five copper pennies, and said:
"Have a drink on me."
"Don't tell anyone what I just asked. It's very dangerous."
Before she finished speaking, she turned and walked out of the corner, heading towards the Dock Workers' Union at the East Byron Docks.
Ten minutes or so later, Hugh saw the two-story yellow building.
She turned her canvas coat inside out, showing the patches, instantly transforming herself from a short worker into a vagrant.
Glancing at the few vagrants huddled on the street corner, Hugh pinched her nose and went to sit with them, her eyes intermittently scanning the Dock Workers' Union across the street—when people were going in and out.
Time ticked by. Hugh endured the cold wind and the harsh environment, persistently observing the Dock Workers' Union and its surroundings.
She clearly remembered Williams's insistence on drinking, and even more, she remembered the feeling when she saw the newspaper that day.
This feeling made her more tolerant than ever.
At that moment, seven or eight people came out of the Dock Workers' Union, and they headed in a group to the café across the street to have lunch.
Hugh narrowed her eyes, carefully scanning each passerby, confirming their appearances.