They were probably quite familiar with each other before—only people who are relatively close would call each other by name; otherwise, everyone would be addressed as "Sir," "Miss," or "Madam."

Lily Bennett forced herself to ignore that strange feeling of being watched. After thinking for a moment, she asked, seemingly casually, "What did the manager say?"

Richard Allen was taken aback, then gave a wry smile. "Even you know about it."

He sighed again. "The manager didn't say anything, but he probably doesn't want me anymore. Well, Eric Carter knows more magic tricks than I do, and his salary is lower... It's normal for the manager not to want to keep me. It's fine, I can try my luck with another troupe."

Lily Bennett put on a concerned expression at the right moment. "Can't you talk to him again?"

"Even if I lowered my salary to match Eric Carter's," Richard Allen rubbed his brow, his smile a bit weary, "the manager still wouldn't want me. Eric Carter is too smart—he can learn a lot of tricks just by watching once... He's a born magician. I can't compete with him at all."

Lily Bennett looked at Richard Allen, feigning indignation, leaned in, and whispered, "Mr. Simon, you're a good man. The way they're treating you is just despicable!"

Richard Allen was a bit puzzled by her agitation, but still thanked her. "Thank you, Polly Clark, your words mean a lot to me."

Lily Bennett placed a hand on Richard Allen's shoulder, lowering her voice even more:

"...My status is low, and I don't know much, so I can't speak for you with the manager. But I do know something that might be very useful to you."

Richard Allen said seriously, "I'm all ears."

"There's a strange bag with the manager. Have you heard about it?"

"The one that fell from the sky?"

"Yes, that's the one," Lily Bennett said. "But it didn't fall from the sky at all—it was stolen by a leather bag merchant from Louis Vuitton!"

"Louis Vuitton?—The Louis Vuitton in Paris?"

Lily Bennett secretly breathed a sigh of relief. She had guessed right: by 1888, the name Louis Vuitton was already very famous.

If Richard Allen hadn't heard of Louis Vuitton, she really wouldn't have known whose name to mention.

"Yes, I heard the craftsmanship of this bag is extremely complex. Mr. Vuitton tried for a long time and only managed to make this one... They originally wanted to present it to the royal family, but it was stolen halfway. The manager and the others plan to exhibit it as a rare treasure... But I think, if someone could return the bag to Mr. Vuitton, maybe they'd be recommended to the royal family!"

Richard Allen fell into deep thought.

After a while, he looked up, took Lily Bennett's hands, and said, "Thank you for telling me this. If I ever make something of myself, I will never forget your kindness."

Lily Bennett squeezed his hands in return, giving him a smile.

She didn't need him to repay her; she just needed him to steal the bag and leave the circus with it.

By then, she would persuade Eric Carter to go and "retrieve" the bag—Richard Allen was gentle and of average build; convincing Eric Carter to rob him would definitely be much easier than convincing Eric Carter to rob the manager.

Thinking of this, Lily Bennett couldn't help but feel delighted. Even that strange feeling of being watched no longer bothered her, and she finished all the bread and potatoes on her plate.

Richard Allen was clearly tempted by the backpack. All evening, he kept glancing at the big tent, rubbing his thumb from time to time.

He was looking at the big tent, while Lily Bennett was watching him, estimating in her mind when he would make his move.

Richard Allen was a magician; both his sleight of hand and reflexes far surpassed ordinary people. He could definitely move the backpack out of the big tent—it was just a matter of lacking resolve.

That night, Richard Allen lit a cigar, rubbed his thumb hard, and finally made up his mind, heading toward the big tent.

Before leaving, he looked back at Lily Bennett.

Lily Bennett nodded at him and mouthed: Good luck.

During this period, Richard Allen visited the big tent almost every night. Plus, since it was performance time, all the hired gunmen had been sent to guard the performance hall to prevent any troublemakers.

Only two guards were left at the big tent, playing cards. When they saw it was Richard Allen, they waved him in without a second thought.

Half an hour later, Richard Allen walked out of the big tent, his expression calm and confident.

Lily Bennett didn't know how he managed to move the backpack, but she knew he had succeeded.

She let out a long sigh of relief.

Now, she could safely plan her escape.

She had a feeling that tonight would be the most peaceful night's sleep she'd had since she crossed over.

·

Lily Bennett's premonition was shattered.

In the middle of the night, heavy footsteps sounded. The canvas of the tent was lifted, and someone dragged something heavy inside.

Lily Bennett opened her eyes, struggling to focus. The first thing she saw was a hollow white mask.

It was like a bucket of cold water poured over her head—Lily Bennett instantly snapped awake, shivering, and quickly sat up.

The scene before her made her hair stand on end.

In the darkness, Eric Carter was holding the unconscious Richard Allen in one hand and the backpack in the other, calmly walking step by step toward her.

Meeting his indifferent, emotionless gaze, Lily Bennett felt her stomach clench, her throat go dry, and she could barely breathe.

What was he doing?

Had all her efforts over the past few days been for nothing, just because they hadn't spoken for a few days?