The past was built upon collecting unique characteristics.

"For example, are they all women?" The boss chuckled and waved his hand. "Just kidding, I don't actually know either."

"But you can ask people who might know the answer."

Morian didn't interrupt, but simply picked up his glass and waited for the man to finish speaking.

The tavern owner put down the rag he was holding and pointed to the group of people at the gambling table:

"Do you see that man in the light yellow vest?"

A light yellow vest... Morian followed his gaze.

A man in his thirties sat at the gambling table. He had an ordinary face and wore a clean yellow vest, making him a respectable figure in the tavern.

But his expression was rather unpleasant, and his eyes were fixed on the cards in his hand.

"His name is Fairman," the boss continued. "His most recent victim happened to be his mistress."

"If you want to know more, you can try asking him, although he may not be in the mood to talk to you right now."

After pushing the trouble away, the middle-aged man lowered his head and continued wiping the cup, no longer speaking.

Seeing this, Morian simply didn't ask any more questions, finished his last sip of whiskey, and got up to walk towards the gambling table.

The game played at the table was the most common "blackjack," the most familiar and well-known game. Each person had some pennies and shillings piled up in front of them as stakes.

Besides Fellman, there were two other middle-aged men sitting together playing cards, one of whom was about forty years old and had a full beard.

The other was younger; he was a thin man in a faded suit, with sunken cheeks, as if he were malnourished.

Morian stood to the side, quietly watching the game, occasionally seeing someone swear after losing money.

Especially with Fellman, after several rounds of observation, Morian found that this guy basically never won, as if Lady Luck just wouldn't favor him even once.

When the time was right, Morian naturally pulled out a chair and sat down in the empty seat next to him.

He took out a few banknotes from his pocket and placed them on the table as a wager.

The people at the card table all looked up at the unfamiliar face, but no one said anything.

This is a kind of unspoken rule: if you choose to set up a card game in a tavern, it means the game is open to the public and other people are welcome to join at any time.

The rules of this game are very simple. The dealer deals two face-up cards to each player, and then deals two cards to himself, one face-up and one face-down. After that, the players compare the card values.

Of course, you also have to be careful not to have too many points, otherwise you'll lose if you explode.

The game started quickly, and this round, Fellman was the dealer.

When the cards were dealt, Morian looked down at his two cards.

The cards are the 8 of spades and the 6 of clubs, totaling only fourteen points, which isn't very high, and might even be a bit low.

If he really wanted to win money, he should have folded this round to be on the safe side, but in order to better integrate into the game, he chose to raise.

The game proceeded quietly, with everyone maintaining a silent understanding.

Until the final round of betting ended, the other three players also revealed their cards, which were 15, 17, and 19 points respectively.

The man with the stubble had the highest score, Morian had the lowest at fourteen, and then Fellman had the lowest.

"Bullshit!"

After losing a few more shillings, Fellman muttered a curse under his breath, his face growing increasingly grim.

Seeing himself lose the game as expected, Morian didn't have much of an emotional reaction, because winning or losing wasn't his goal.

After several rounds, he lost some money but won some back, becoming increasingly skilled in the game.

Then, he started occasionally exchanging a few words with the people at the card table, and after losing money, he would also curse a few times, just like a real regular.

Everything proceeded as usual, and the bearded man who won the most money was grinning from ear to ear.

Taking advantage of the lull in the next round of shuffling, Morian seized the opportunity and casually said to another unlucky fellow:

"I heard there have been several murders on this street recently?"

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Faced with this question, the other two looked down at their cards, as if they hadn't heard, but some subtle details in their expressions revealed that they seemed to know something.

Anyone could see that the atmosphere at the card table had become a bit off.

A few seconds later, Felman said impatiently in a muffled voice:

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

"It's nothing," Morian said casually, pushing the shuffled cards to the center of the table. "I heard from the boss earlier that one of the most recent victims seems to be your ex-lover?"

"So what if it is?"

Fellman's expression became more irritated, clearly mistaking him for an undercover police officer or something similar.

I've already given a statement and been investigated multiple times, so why are the police still so insistent on this?!

Why are you asking about this?

"Actually, I'd like to ask you about the specifics." Morian smiled and slowly took out several large-denomination gold pounds from his pocket and placed them on the table.

The sudden action left Fellman speechless.

He glanced down at the pitiful chips in front of him, then at the few pounds sterlings his opponent had placed on the corner of the table, as if those weren't pounds sterlings, but his greatest hope for turning the tables.

In fact, Fellman knew that the other side had been targeting him from the very beginning.

But the gambler's mentality made it difficult for him to resist the temptation before him.

With a "smack," Fehrman slammed the cards in his hand onto the table.

"Want to know the details? No problem!" He stared at Morian and suddenly laughed loudly.

This guy even raised his voice on purpose, as if that would give him more courage.

"I'll tell you if you beat the three of us."

Morian raised an eyebrow and returned the smile.

"Okay, how about this round?"

"That's right, if you win, I'll tell you what you want to know; if you lose, all that money belongs to us."

After glancing at the few gold pounds on the table, Fellman's intentions became crystal clear.

His goal was to drag the other two people down with him, which would greatly increase his chances of winning.

After all, it's hard for three people's points to be less than one person's points. As long as any one of them beats Morian, those gold pounds are theirs.

At least statistically speaking, it's very difficult for Morian to win.

The other two exchanged a glance and nodded in agreement.

You don't have to pay out if you lose, and you even get a share of the winnings—it's practically free money.

At this moment, the bearded man's gaze toward the outsider held a hint of mockery and impatience.

Seeing their reactions, Morian's lips curled up slightly, and he nodded emphatically.

They finally fell for it.