18 COI

The constable set down his newspaper and sized up Lumian, visibly unnerved by his unabashed confidence. He gestured to the notebook and fountain pen before him, saying, "Show me your lawyer's license and register your name and purpose of visit."

A license? Seriously? Lumian, the phony attorney, felt a surge of panic.

Hadn't he read in countless novels and newspapers that simply identifying oneself as a lawyer was enough to gain access to a client?

As Lumian reached for the black fountain pen, his mind raced, formulating a plan.

He suddenly noticed that the constable across from him had shifted his attention to the recently discarded copy of Youth of Trier, fixated on the annual Trier cycling race.

He doesn't seem to care about the lawyer's license… An idea flashed through Lumian's mind. Mimicking Aurore's penmanship, he scrawled his 'name': "Guillaume Pierre, pro bono lawyer. Meeting client, Charlie Collent."

After jotting it down, Lumian stood and nonchalantly glanced around.

Feigning delight, he raised his arm and exclaimed, "My little cabbage, long time no see!"

Confused faces turned in his direction. Lumian spun back to the registering constable and murmured, "I spotted a friend."

The unspoken message: he'd present his lawyer's license later.

Without waiting for a reply, Lumian strode to a corner of the hall.

The constable gave the register a cursory glance before returning his gaze to Youth of Trier.

Once in the corner, Lumian stole a peek at the preoccupied constable, then turned to the baffled onlookers with an apologetic grin.

"I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else."

Clutching his briefcase, he approached the police officer he had "chosen" earlier, who was now coming from the registration office.

Lumian lifted his chin and demanded haughtily, "I want to see my client, Charlie Collent."

In the Intis Republic, attorneys held a far higher social status than ordinary constables.

The officer glanced back at the registration office, saw no cause for concern, and nodded.

"I'll contact the person in charge of that case for you."

Fifteen minutes later, Lumian found himself face-to-face with Charlie in a secured room, two officers standing guard at the door.

"Who are you?" Charlie asked, sinking into a chair across the table, his eyes filled with confusion.

His once-rosy cheeks were now pallid, fear etched into every line of his face.

He had heard of pro bono lawyers while chatting with other hotel staff and knew they were provided by government agencies or philanthropic organizations for destitute suspects. He never expected one to arrive just half a day after his arrest.

Lumian grinned, removed his black-framed glasses, winked with his right eye, and spoke in his natural voice, "Don't you recognize me? I'm your pro bono lawyer."

Charlie stared, dumbstruck. After a few seconds of careful scrutiny, a spark of recognition lit up his face.

But before he could speak, Lumian slipped his glasses back on and said, "Quiet. Listen to me."

"Alright, alright." Charlie snapped to attention.

Lumian's smile vanished, replaced by a grave expression.

"I need to know the full details of what happened. That's the only way I can clear your name."

"Really?" Charlie asked, desperation in his voice, like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline.

Feigning his professionalism, Lumian questioned, "What time did you stay in the room with Mrs. Alice until?"

Charlie rubbed his face, struggling to recall through the haze of confusion and pain, "Madame Alice ordered room service. I entered her room before 8 p.m. and stayed until she was tired. I only left at midnight. At that time, she had just laid down and was still awake. She was still alive!"

From 8 p.m. to midnight? Every day? That 500 verl d'or isn't easy to earn… Lumian mused, then adopted a lawyerly tone, "You have to be honest with me. Hiding anything will only hurt you in the end."

"I'm not lying. That's really the truth!" Lumian's words, actions, posture, and tone had convinced Charlie that he was truly his defense attorney.

After verifying a few more details, Lumian inquired, "After you gained Madame Alice's favor, did anyone express jealousy?"

"Many. Apprentices and official attendants alike, they were all jealous of me…" Charlie remembered.

They discussed the topic for a while before Lumian produced a photo, handing it to Charlie.

"See if you recognize this person."

Charlie gasped, "Isn't this Saint Viève?"

Why was she dressed so provocatively, her chest exposed?

"I've confirmed that the portrait in your room isn't Saint Viève. It belongs to the famous courtesan, Susanna Mattise." Lumian tactfully replaced 'prostitute' with 'courtesan' to prevent Charlie from becoming overly upset.

"Huh?" Charlie's face contorted with confusion.

I prayed to a courtesan, not an angel?

But why did my luck change for the better?

No, if it had truly improved, I wouldn't have been arrested…

Lumian produced another photo. It still depicted Susanna Mattise, but he had already altered the courtesan's hair color and made a few "edits."

"Take a look at this and tell me if you recognize this person."

Charlie scrutinized the image for a few seconds before his expression morphed into one of shock.

"Wh— She! How can this be?"

"So you do know her?" Lumian smirked.

Charlie looked up, his voice hollow, "S-she is… She's the woman from my beautiful dreams.

"Didn't I tell you? I had these amazing dreams for a few days. I dreamed of making love to her. She was so passionate and gentle…

"H-how did you know I dreamed of her? I didn't tell anyone! Why do you have a photo of her?"

Charlie's gaze, now fixed on Lumian, had completely changed.

Is this really the southern kid I know?

Aside from his talent for pranks and good looks, there was nothing extraordinary about him!

Lumian's lips curled into a smile as he gazed back at Charlie.

"Take a closer look at who's in the photo."

Charlie stared blankly at the image of the green-haired woman.

As he examined it, his expression morphed into sheer terror. He recoiled involuntarily, making the chair creak.

"No, that's impossible! Susanna, Susanna, she's that prostitute!" Charlie shouted, unable to suppress his emotions.

This revelation left him feeling as if he had encountered a malevolent spirit.

After praying to a portrait of a prostitute, he had not only escaped hunger and found a new job but had also dreamed of her and slept with her!

Wasn't this akin to encountering a ghost?

Lumian nodded approvingly.

"Congratulations. At least you're not blind."

He had intended to help Charlie and divulge information as a prank to frighten him, but the two matters were unrelated.

The door to the interview room creaked open. A constable standing guard outside inquired warily, "What happened? Why are you shouting?"

"I helped him recall some key details," Lumian explained calmly.

Charlie snapped out of his stupor.

"Yes, I remember something very important."

And indeed, it was!

The policeman didn't press further and shut the door again.

Seeing this, Charlie leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table, and asked anxiously, "Did I encounter an evil female spirit?"

"It might not be a vengeful or evil spirit," Lumian said, watching Charlie's expression soften slightly before adding, "It might be even more troublesome than that."

At those words, Charlie's face turned ashen.

After a brief pause, he asked apprehensively, "You… you mean Madame Alice was killed by that evil spirit?"

"I'm not sure yet." Lumian stood up. "I need to examine Madame Alice's corpse."

"You even know how to investigate a corpse to determine the true cause of death?" Charlie found his neighbor increasingly enigmatic.

Lumian smiled but offered no answer.

As Charlie's defense attorney, Lumian had the right to inspect the corpse under police supervision, and he could even enlist the assistance of an independent pathologist. So, after signing two documents under the name Guillaume Pierre, Lumian was escorted to the basement of the market district's police headquarters and into the morgue where the body was kept.

The officer leading him slid open the cabinet, unzipped the body bag, and pointed to the female corpse.

"This is Madame Alice."

In life, Alice had preserved her appearance quite well, with only faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her thick brown eyebrows framed her face, her cheeks sagged slightly, and her skin had taken on a deathly pallor.

Lumian glanced casually at the body and said to the officer, "I'm good."

He wasn't a pathologist who had come to conduct a genuine examination; his objective was merely to pinpoint the approximate location of Madame Alice's remains.

After exiting the morgue, Lumian turned to the accompanying officer and asked, "Where's the nearest restroom?"

"Take a right at the end of the corridor," replied the officer, despite his growing impatience.

Lumian hastened his steps and entered the basement restroom.

Once inside, he locked the wooden door and performed the Summoning Dance in the cramped space.

Amidst the frenzied, contorted dance, a chilling wind swept through the restroom. Vague figures materialized one by one, their pale or bluish-white faces staring at Lumian with empty eyes.

These were the lingering obsessions of the departed.

Lumian had never witnessed such a spectacular sight before. For a moment, he felt as if he were surrounded by ghostly specters.

He steadied himself and continued the second half of the dance while searching for Madame Alice.

Soon, he spotted the fierce-looking lady with the thick brown eyebrows.

Lumian unsheathed the ritual silver dagger and inflicted a wound, commanding Madame Alice to attach herself to him.

Madame Alice consumed the drop of blood and entered Lumian's body.

Immediately, Lumian felt a shiver race down his spine, and his chest grew heavy.

His breath came in labored gasps.

Without hesitation, Lumian amplified Madame Alice's obsession, foregoing any selection of her characteristics or abilities.

Almost instantaneously, Lumian's vision dimmed, and he saw Madame Alice lying on the bed, her mouth and nose smothered by a down pillow. However, there was no one pressing down on the pillow in her line of sight!

-x-X-x-

Lumian, consumed by Madame Alice's fixation, found breathing increasingly difficult. His body ached more intensely, as if he had once again encountered the Montsouris ghost and teetered on the brink of death.

This was a true death experience.

Concerned he might lose control, Lumian chose not to push further. He ordered Madame Alice's lingering spirit to vacate his body.

Gasping for air, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow before reverting to his slightly arrogant novice lawyer persona.

Accompanied by the police officer, he headed back to the interview room.

Charlie sprang to his feet, leaning forward with his hand braced against the table. His face was a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

Without waiting for a question, Lumian seemed to hear Charlie ask, "What's the result?"

Lumian nodded and made a calming motion.

His gesture implied that the autopsy findings aligned with his expectations.

Relief washed over Charlie's face instantly. It was as though he'd expended all his energy in that moment. He slumped back into his chair, physically drained.

In front of the two constables at the door, Lumian declared firmly, "Don't worry about anything else. I've got it covered.

"You only need to do one thing. During the next questioning, recount the entire story to these gentlemen without omitting a single detail, no matter how absurd or implausible it may seem.

"Of course, stick to what happened up until your arrest. There's no need to delve into our conversation."

Since a lawyer-client dialogue might involve courtroom tactics others had no right to know, the two officers at the door didn't find Lumian's last statement odd. After all, Charlie Collent was an unfortunate kid facing a serious criminal case for the first time and requiring a lawyer. He likely didn't know the rules and needed explicit guidance.

Charlie grasped Lumian's message: Don't reveal to the police that I discovered the issue with the portrait!

"Alright." Charlie wasn't as angry, terrified, or flustered as when he was first arrested and brought to the station, but he wasn't as chatty as usual either.

After departing the market district's police headquarters, Lumian circled twice before finding an alley blocked by a barricade. He changed his clothes, removed his glasses, and altered his makeup style.

Now that I have enough money, I can set up a safe house and a place to switch disguises based on Aurore's novels. Lumian recalled his sister's writing, piecing together the method for handling such matters.

He also fully intended to purchase a copy of Men's Aesthetics.

Mastering makeup without guidance was impossible. He'd mainly relied on his hairstyle, glasses, and attire to conceal his identity.

En route to Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian contemplated how to extricate Charlie from his dire situation.

Who exactly is Susanna Matisse, or rather, the bizarre creature she morphed into? Why did she murder Madame Alice?

Why did she help Charlie in the past and engage in the act with him in the dream?

The prospect of writing to Madam Magician unsettled Lumian.

Judging by the speed of her previous response and its content, he sensed her indirectness: "Don't bother me unless it's important!"

If Lumian faced an issue involving Susanna Matisse, writing to inquire would be acceptable. However, this predicament only concerned his neighbor.

It was highly likely that the enigmatic, potent woman who detested complications wouldn't respond.

And this could impact her attitude towards Lumian.

If I'm not asking Madam Magician, why not inquire at Mr. K's mysticism gathering? If the attendees are Beyonders at Osta Trul's level, they might not have the answer… As Lumian mulled it over, he ascended the stairs and entered his room.

His gaze fell on the suitcase containing Aurore's grimoires, and he experienced a sudden revelation.

Why should I investigate Susanna Matisse and deal with her personally?

My sole objective is to rescue Charlie!

Even if I can uncover Susanna Matisse's vulnerability and vanquish her, can I coerce a peculiar creature like her to turn herself in at the police station?

If she dares to go, the police won't dare to entertain her. Given her displayed characteristics, wouldn't she indulge in an orgy on the spot?

Lumian rapidly discerned the distinction between goals and means.

There was no need for such effort to exonerate Charlie and secure his release from police headquarters!

He simply had to inform Bureau 8, the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, and the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery that Charlie's case involved Beyonder elements and prompt them to intervene in the investigation!

Even a low-level Beyonder with no intelligence network or mystical powers could detect something amiss with Susanna Matisse. There's no reason why official investigators couldn't uncover the invisible force behind Madame Alice's demise. Eventually, they would not only verify Charlie's innocence but also help him escape Susanna Matisse's grasp and resolve the issue with the strange creature entirely. Lumian had a clear conjecture about the subsequent events after the lunatic upstairs had sought refuge in the cathedral upon encountering the Montsouris ghost.

He had urged Charlie to divulge everything at the market district's police headquarters to attract the attention of official Beyonders.

Nevertheless, he felt compelled to act. He couldn't rely solely on ordinary police officers.

What if they deemed Charlie's story a fabrication intended to mock their intelligence and resorted to violence to coerce a confession on the spot?

Lumian's gaze swept over the crumpled newspaper on the wooden table, recalling how he or his sister had snipped out the livre bleu's words and pieced them together to compose a letter seeking assistance from the authorities.

Transform Charlie's experience into a letter and 'deliver' it to a nearby cathedral? Lumian nodded, deciding to execute the plan.

Armed with the plea for help and Charlie's confession, it should pique the interest of official Beyonders.

As he was about to search for appropriate phrases in Novel Weekly, Lumian suddenly frowned.

Could the officials link a similar request for help to Cordu? Would they associate me, a wanted criminal, with Charlie?

Lumian didn't know if Ryan and his associates had fully reported their findings to official Beyonders nationwide, but he was unwilling to take that risk.

Imitate Aurore's handwriting?

Unlike a lawyer's signature that doesn't raise suspicion, Ryan and his team suggested that the letter would likely undergo various checks, including divination…

Disguise myself and have someone else write it for me? As his thoughts raced, Lumian suddenly had an idea. I can summon a spirit world creature to write it for me!

If the officials detect any issues, they won't be able to make the spirit world creature identify me since they don't know the summoning incantation!

The more Lumian considered it, the more he believed it was a solid plan. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and began devising the summoning incantation.

The first sentence was undoubtedly, "Spirit wandering in the void."

After some thought, Lumian penned the second sentence.

"The friendly creature that can be subordinated."

Summoned spirit world creatures had to be under Lumian's command to assist him in writing letters. Friendliness provided essential protection for the summoner.

As for the third sentence, Lumian didn't have lofty expectations. He merely needed to incorporate the two aspects of being weak and proficient in Intisian.

After several moments of mental permutation, the third sentence materialized on paper:

"Weakling proficient in Intisian."

Phew… After writing, Lumian exhaled.

He then leafed through Aurore's grimoire and translated the few unmastered words into Hermes.

Immediately after, he set up the altar and commenced the summoning.

Soon, he completed the ritual and observed the candle flame turning a dark green hue and expanding to the size of a human head.

A hazy, translucent figure materialized, its head resembling an ox's and the rest, a dog's.

"Help me write a letter," Lumian said in Hermes as he gazed at the spirit world creature.

The bewildered ox-headed dog didn't respond.

"I order you to help me write a letter," Lumian emphasized in Hermes.

The ox-headed dog appeared dumbstruck, as though it didn't comprehend.

Lumian made several more attempts, but the ox-headed dog remained unresponsive.

Having no other choice, he terminated the summoning early to preserve his spirituality.

He started pondering the issue.

I can't communicate with that guy…

Amenable to subordination doesn't mean it can be communicated with…

With this realization, Lumian modified the second summoning incantation to "A friendly creature that can be communicated with."

Being able to communicate meant being able to make requests!

This time, a colossal "snail" emerged from the dark green flames.

"Hello." Lumian attempted to greet it in Intisian.

The snail emitted an ethereal voice.

"Hello, what's the matter?"

It also spoke Intisian.

"Can you help me write a letter?" Lumian was overjoyed.

The "snail" replied in a troubled tone, "But I don't have any hands."

"…" Lumian had no choice but to end the summoning.

After some consideration, he changed the phrase "weakling proficient in Intisian" to "weakling who can write Intisian."

"Can write" covered both the knowledge and necessary physical requirements.

Before long, Lumian completed his third summoning.

He saw a transparent creature resembling a rabbit.

"Can you help me write a letter?" Lumian asked with intense anticipation.

The "rabbit" nodded, picked up the pen on the table, and wrote an Intisian word on the paper.

"A letter."

"…" Lumian's lips twitched.

This creature didn't seem too bright.

With resolve, Lumian grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled a plea for help, including Susanna Mattise's portrait, details about the wet dream, Madame Alice's death, and Charlie's arrest.

Then, he said to the "rabbit," "Copy it!"

The "rabbit" took the fountain pen and diligently transcribed it.

Soon, it finished its task.

Lumian examined it and nodded in satisfaction.

In the next second, his smile froze.

Not only had the dimwit copied the entire contents of the letter, but it had also replicated his handwriting.

In other words, it was in Lumian's script!

Lumian took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He pointed at Novel Weekly and said, "Copy in that font."

The "rabbit" nodded slowly and rewrote without complaint.

A few minutes later, Lumian received a seemingly printed plea for help.

-x-X-x-

Lumian examined the letter with gloved hands and breathed a sigh of relief.

No issues this time!

Completing three consecutive spirit world creature summoning rituals had left him feeling drained.

After a moment's consideration, Lumian asked the rabbit-like spirit world creature, "Can you do me another favor?"

The "rabbit" thought seriously for a few seconds before giving a slow nod.

Lumian unzipped his grayish-blue work uniform.

"Then follow me first."

The ethereal and transparent "rabbit" leaped from midair to Lumian's side, assuming the role of a loyal companion.

Lumian sighed quietly and said, "What I mean is, you can hide inside my clothes to avoid detection by any Beyonder with heightened spiritual perception."

The "rabbit" wore a blank expression as it hopped into Lumian's clothes and curled up.

Since it had no true mass or weight, his clothes could be zipped up quickly without leaving a trace.

After stowing the letter in the same pocket, Lumian dissolved the spiritual barrier, removed his gloves, and exited Room 207.

He meandered toward Avenue du Marché, nearing the Suhit steam locomotive station.

It was just past five o'clock, and many people were still at work. The street was neither crowded nor deserted. Groups of passersby headed for the public carriage station sign or searched for the subway entrance. They carried their luggage and walked on foot to nearby streets in search of temporary accommodations for the night.

Lumian patted his right pocket and pointed at the postbox several dozen meters away. Lowering his voice, he said, "See that green metal cylinder?"

He felt a vibration in his pocket. The "rabbit" had responded in kind.

Lumian exhaled in relief and instructed, "Place the letter beside you in that metal cylinder."

Having said that, Lumian massaged his temples and activated his Spirit Vision.

He watched the "rabbit" emerge, enveloping the plea for help. It maneuvered through the crowd and reached the green metal cylinder.

Just as Lumian thought the "rabbit" would deposit the letter in the postbox and successfully complete the mission, the creature entered the postbox with the letter.

Moments later, it exited the postbox and flew back to Lumian, leaving the letter inside.

Lumian closed his eyes and consoled himself, I suppose it's considered tossed in…

He then left Avenue du Marché with the "rabbit" and located a vacant alley. In Hermes language, he informed the "rabbit" that the summoning was over.

After the "rabbit" returned to the spirit world, Lumian finally felt at ease.

He resolved to stop aiding Charlie. The rest would hinge on how the official Beyonders handled the situation.

If it weren't for the fact that this matter is intriguing enough, I wouldn't have bothered to help him. Do I have to battle that enigmatic creature, Susanna Mattise, who's clearly formidable, on his behalf? Lumian mused silently.

He chuckled.

In Cordu, if those crude fellows understood the traits Susanna Mattise exhibited, they would undoubtedly ask slyly whether he wanted to fight her in bed or in the hayloft.

Of course, Lumian could be just as coarse when dealing with them.

On his way back to Rue Anarchie, he discovered a meat patty shop and purchased Red Snapper Hot Beef Meatloaf for dinner.

Paired with the soda sold by street vendors, Lumian navigated the crowd as he ate, occasionally evading hands that covertly reached for his wallet.

Compared to Rouen Meatloaf, Red Snapper Hot Beef Meatloaf was less greasy. The fish was refreshing and delicate, the beef savory and crispy, the dough's subtle sweetness had a bite, and the aroma of spices and fat ignited Lumian's taste buds one by one with a rich texture.

After eating and drinking his fill, he clutched the glass bottle that still contained a third of the pale-red liquid and sighed appreciatively.

No wonder the Trieriens love meatloaves…

When I get the chance, I'll visit Rue Richelieu in the library district and try the first restaurant that created Red Snapper Hot Beef Meatloaf…

Based on the newspapers and magazines he had perused before, he could recite several famous meatloaves off the top of his head.

Degan Meatloaf, Périgueux Meatloaf, Tudenan Cashew Pie, Minced Meat Pie…

Sipping the pomegranate-flavored soda, Lumian turned onto Rue Anarchie.

What met his gaze was a chaotic tableau. The suspected gangsters brandished either axes or clubs, squaring off in the street.

Pedestrians steered clear, and the vendors retreated from Rue Anarchie one by one. The residents of the houses on both sides slammed their windows shut.

Lumian didn't venture further. He backtracked a few steps and found a wall pillar to conceal himself behind as he observed the unfolding scene with interest.

He suspected that his assassination of the Poison Spur Mob's Margot had aroused the suspicions of several gangs in the market district, ultimately escalating into a standoff.

After waiting nearly 15 minutes, Lumian still didn't witness the mobsters erupt into full-scale combat.

His anticipation for the confrontation left him disappointed. He cursed under his breath, "Are you guys going to do this or not? You're blocking the street without fighting. Do you think you have too much time on your hands?"

With that in mind, Lumian glanced at the five-story grayish-white building beside him.

He seriously contemplated finding a room and hurling the empty soda bottle between the two factions, tricking them into believing the opposing mob leader had signaled the start of the battle.

That way, Lumian would have a spectacle to enjoy.

Just as he was about to put his plan into action, a large contingent of police officers in black uniforms appeared at both ends of Rue Anarchie.

Leading them were officers on tall brown or black horses, brandishing shields and clubs. They advanced towards the mobsters, step by step,

exuding an immense pressure that caused many of the gangsters to waver.

When the mounted police charged, the mobsters gathered on Rue Anarchie dispersed. Some fled, while others were beaten to the ground.

Lumian couldn't help but want to applaud. His thirst for excitement was thoroughly quenched.

He had only read about such scenes in novels and news articles, the latter of which often glossed over the gritty details!

In no time, Rue Anarchie returned to its usual cacophony.

Lumian finished his last sip of pomegranate soda and sauntered back to Auberge du Coq Doré, entering Room 207.

Sitting by the bed, he replayed the entire process of writing and posting the letter in his mind to ensure he hadn't overlooked any details that could expose him to the official Beyonders.

After a while, Lumian sighed softly.

"If only I had a messenger. It wouldn't have been so troublesome."

Unfortunately, obtaining a messenger wasn't easy. Even his sister Aurore didn't have one.

To date, Lumian knew of only two people who possessed a messenger.

One was Madam Magician, and the other was the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society's vice president, Hela, whom Aurore had mentioned.

Hela… Lumian's expression gradually darkened.

If the Aurore in his dream indeed bore some influence from her soul fragment, it was apparent that Aurore trusted the vice president a great deal. Her first move upon encountering a problem was to summon the other party's messenger for assistance.

I wonder if Hela knows Aurore's true identity, or if she discovered through that… that obituary that Aurore has… has already passed on… Lumian muttered to himself.

As he pondered, an idea struck him.

It was actually possible for him to summon Hela's messenger!

The summoning incantation comprised only three sentences. Lumian was certain the last phrase was "a messenger that belongs to Hela." The first two sentences followed a fixed format and requirements. As long as he attempted a few more combinations, he'd find the correct sequence!

Moreover, under such circumstances, Lumian wouldn't face any danger even if the initial combinations were incorrect. This was because the description of a messenger belonging to Hela eliminated other possibilities.

In other words, he'd either fail to summon it or successfully summon Hela's messenger.

Should I write a letter to Hela and inform her of what happened to Aurore? Lumian found himself momentarily stumped.

Considering that his sister had mentioned "my notebook" when she pushed him away, and that much of the mystical knowledge in her notebook originated from the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, Lumian quickly made up his mind. If he could establish a connection with this organization, it would aid him in uncovering the crucial information hidden within the Warlock notebook.

He resolved to summon Hela's messenger right away!

Although he still harbored doubts about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society's vice president, he didn't believe he possessed any value she coveted. Besides, Aurore had trusted Hela while she was alive.

Lumian walked to the wooden table, sat down, and began writing.

"Honorable Madam Hela,

"I apologize for writing you this letter. I am Muggle's younger brother. I regret to inform you that she encountered misfortune and has passed away.

"This involves a catastrophe brought about by worshiping an evil god. Only a few people and I escaped.

"I'm not sure if this matter interests you, so I won't elaborate. I don't wish to waste your time.

"What I want to know is, did Muggle mention anything suspicious to you in the past year?

"…"

After staring at the letter for a few seconds, Lumian slowly exhaled and folded the paper.

He then cleaned the room, set up the altar again, and attempted the first combination.

"The spirit that wanders about the unfounded, a friendly creature that can be subordinated, a messenger that belongs solely to Hela."

After reciting the incantation, Lumian gazed at the dark-green candle flame and patiently awaited the messenger's arrival.

Time ticked by, but nothing happened on the altar.

Undeterred, Lumian spoke again, "I! I summon in my name:

"The spirit wandering above the world;

"The friendly creature that can be subordinated;

"A messenger that belongs solely to Hela…"

The dark green candle flame suddenly flickered and grew larger.

At that moment, not only did the area above remain unlit, but it also grew darker.

In the darkness, a shape quickly materialized.

It was a human-like skull, seemingly forged from pure silver. It emitted a gentle light that dispelled the encroaching darkness.

Pale-white flames burned in the skull's eye sockets, instilling a sense of danger in Lumian.

After staring at Lumian for a few seconds, the pure silver skull opened its mouth and bit down on the airborne letter.

Then, it retreated back into the reassembled darkness.

-x-X-x-

Lumian completed the ritual on his second attempt. He cleared the wooden table and opened Aurore's grimoire. Under the glow of the carbide lamp, he thumbed through the relevant sections.

In under fifteen minutes, he sensed something. He looked up and fixed his gaze on a spot near the window.

A folded letter lay there, undisturbed.

That fast? Lumian, surprised, reached out and took the letter.

Hela's response, vice president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, had arrived sooner than expected.

!!

Lumian unfolded the letter and skimmed the elegantly written words.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Ever since Muggle missed last month's gathering, I've had a bad feeling.

"There are too many dangers in this world. Sometimes, we can't avoid them just because we want to unless we can control everyone around us.

"If you wish, you can tell me about Muggle's misfortune. You don't have to go into great detail. Just tell me the general situation…

"From the fact that you can summon my messenger, you should have stepped onto the Beyonder path. I'm not sure if your sister told you that this means you'll always be accompanied by danger and madness, but I have to remind you that restraint and caution are our best friends.

"In the future, if you have any questions about mysticism, you can ask me by writing to me. Although I'm not one of those with vast knowledge, I can answer many questions.

"I've only met Muggle twice in the past year, mainly discussing various matters in the Beyonder domain. What left a deep impression on me was that she mentioned that a friend of hers was affected by a strange dream, hoping to find a solution. If necessary, she wanted to hire a real psychiatrist to treat him…"

Lumian silently read Hela's reply, his face twisting with emotion.

Aurore had been searching for a solution to his bizarre dream!

Lumian composed himself and contemplated his response.

Suddenly, he froze.

His brows furrowed as he muttered, "Aurore told Hela about hiring a real psychiatrist…

"Considering Madame Susie's description, a true psychiatrist must refer to a specific Sequence of the Spectator pathway…

"Only Beyonders skilled in this domain can prevent me from dreaming of the world shrouded in gray fog…"

The issue wasn't with the situation. The problem was:

Aurore's grimoire only had Sequence 9 Spectator recorded for the pathway!

Yet, she clearly knew about Psychiatrist!

Lumian quickly recalled the two conversations in his dream.

First, Aurore had said she wanted to find a genuine Hypnotist for him.

Second, Aurore had mentioned that she knew Sequence 9 and Sequence 8 of all pathways and had a certain understanding of them.

Psychiatrist is often associated with hypnosis. Hypnotist is most likely a Sequence of the Spectator pathway as well, perhaps even superior to Psychiatrist…

Aurore's grimoire doesn't have records of the corresponding Sequence 8 or Sequence 7 of the Spectator pathway… Lumian's expression became grave, intermingled with a twisted thrill.

After so many days, he had finally discovered a discrepancy in Aurore's grimoire!

Previously, he had his suspicions but wasn't certain if there was any hidden anomaly. After all, Aurore in his dream was a figure formed from his memories and impressions under the influence of the soul fragment. Everything she said might not be accurate or complete. It was normal for her not to mention any exceptions explicitly.

Now, Hela's response indirectly confirmed that Aurore truly knew about one or more Sequences within the Spectator pathway and possessed a certain grasp of their related abilities.

Why hadn't Aurore recorded this knowledge in her grimoire? What was the secret behind this inconsistency? Lumian pulled out a blank sheet of paper, his emotions a blend of grief and anticipation.

In under a minute, he wrote, "Honorable Madam Hela,

"The truth is…

"My memory of the actual events is fragmented due to the calamity.

"If you could assist me in locating Guillaume Bénet, Pualis de Roquefort, and others, I would be deeply grateful. Their appearances and attributes can be found on the authorities' wanted posters.

"Lastly, I'm curious about the real psychiatrist Muggle intended to hire."

In his letter, Lumian briefly touched upon Cordu. He made no mention of the dream, the loop, or his rescue. He only speculated that Padre Guillaume Bénet, under someone's guidance, had worshipped an evil god and banished Madame Pualis, who followed another sinister deity. Bénet then attempted a ritual with the entire village as a sacrifice. At the crucial moment, Muggle, selected as a vessel, pushed Lumian away, an essential sacrifice, causing the ritual's failure and Cordu's destruction. Finally, the official Beyonders, who had been called for aid, cleaned up the mess.

Lumian reassembled the altar, summoned the silver skull, and handed it the letter.

In less than fifteen minutes, he received a second reply from Hela.

Rather than comparing response speeds between Madam Magician and Madame Hela, Lumian eagerly read the letter's contents.

"I can sense your sorrow and understand your desire to uncover the truth and exact vengeance upon the perpetrator.

"As Muggle's friend, I'll aid you to the best of my ability, including but not limited to locating those individuals.

"I can also offer you a fresh lead on this matter. To my knowledge, Muggle's parents and other family members may still be alive in this world. She had distanced herself from them for some reason and didn't dare return to Trier. I'm unsure if they're in any danger or if they've come into contact with the evil god's followers.

"I don't know which Psychiatrist Muggle sought. Our organization has numerous genuine Psychiatrists, and many gatherings Muggle and I attended don't overlap. I'll assist you by inquiring with members who have interacted with her to see if you can obtain the answer you seek…

"Until this investigation is complete, I'll help conceal the fact that Muggle is deceased…

"If you relocate in the future, remember to summon my messenger again to prevent me from losing contact with you after obtaining pertinent information…"

After reading, Lumian fell silent for a long while before exhaling slowly.

Initially, he'd imagined Madame Hela would invite him to join the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, taking Aurore's place. In doing so, he could more effectively investigate the Psychiatrist Aurore sought to hire. However, it seemed the organization was highly cautious about recruiting new members. They might even need to meet specific criteria to be considered candidates. For instance, Aurore had mentioned that none of them could return to their hometowns.

Maybe Madame Hela is observing and testing me… Lumian reassured himself and resumed studying Aurore's grimoire.

As for Aurore's original family, he was at a loss for where to begin.

…

Wednesday, 7:50 p.m., 20 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Lumian rapped on Osta Trul's door, dressed in a grayish-blue worker's uniform and a dark-blue, almost black cap.

Osta, clad in black robes and a hood, opened the wooden door and glanced around. He grinned and remarked, "You're more punctual than I anticipated."

"I honor my promises better than you might think." Lumian strode into the room and handed Osta banknotes and coins worth 80 verl d'or.

Osta accepted it, counting twice with an even broader smile.

As he guided Lumian downstairs, he rambled, "The market district's been somewhat chaotic lately. Baron Brignais didn't even come to me for money."

"A gang leader died," Lumian commented nonchalantly.

Realizing the connection, Osta said regretfully, "Why couldn't Baron Brignais have died?"

"Even if Baron Brignais were dead, there'd still be Baron Guillaume and Baron Pierre. As long as the Savoie Mob exists, you'd have to repay the loan you owe," Lumian taunted.

Osta's expression soured.

Before long, he and Lumian boarded a public carriage. They each paid 30 coppet and found seats.

In about an hour, the carriage arrived at Avenue du Boulevard on the Srenzo River's north bank, Quartier 8, from the Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman on the river's south bank.

This was the heart of the entire Intis Republic. The presidential Pavilion of Pleasure, the Grand Palace where Emperor Roselle once resided, and various newspaper headquarters were all here, encircled by upscale residences.

Lumian had previously read in newspapers that the average rent in this district was 4,000 verl d'or annually, roughly 74 verl d'or weekly. The priciest ones could even reach tens of thousands.

Noticing the empty carriage, Lumian lowered his voice and inquired of Osta, "Is Mr. K hosting a gathering on Avenue du Boulevard?"

Osta smirked and replied, "Always. Psychic and Arcane have their headquarters on Avenue du Boulevard as well."

You guys sure know how to hide… Lumian gazed at the broad, flat avenue outside the window, the orderly Intis parasol trees lining the street, and the elegant, light-colored buildings behind them.

Just before 8:50 p.m., Osta led Lumian into the six-story beige luxury house at 19 Rue Scheer.

"This is Psychic magazine's headquarters, but they only occupy the top three floors." Osta didn't ascend the stairs but turned right into a corridor on the ground floor.

Only then did he inform Lumian, "Mr. K wants to see you beforehand."

"Alright." Lumian dipped his head and adjusted his hat, seemingly preoccupied with something.

Osta produced an iron-colored mask and grinned.

"It's time to disguise yourself. You can't let everyone see your true appearance."

In the next instant, Lumian looked up.

His face was shrouded in layers of white bandages, leaving only his eyes, nostrils, and ears exposed.

Upon seeing this, Osta's heart nearly skipped a beat.

-x-X-x-

Within moments, Osta, who had been on the verge of a complaint, managed to force a smile and said, "You're quite the menacing sight like this."

"It's a classic look in literature," Lumian replied with a deliberately smug tone.

Osta said nothing, opting instead to don his iron mask, concealing his expression.

Taking a few steps forward, he halted and rapped on the door to the right.

Two long pauses, one short pause, and one long pause… Lumian watched Osta Trul's actions with the keen eye of a Hunter.

!!

Within seconds, the dark-red wooden door creaked open.

The first thing Lumian saw was a plush, pale-yellow carpet, followed by classical-styled tables, chairs, sofas, and display shelves.

A figure stood in the shadows cast by gas wall lamps near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Like Osta Trul, he wore the black robe of an ancient warlock, complete with a large hood. Lumian couldn't help but think, Can you even see the person standing in front of you clearly when you're dressed like this?

"Mr. K, Ciel has arrived," Osta announced respectfully to the nearly six-foot-tall figure as he stepped inside.

Lumian followed closely.

With a clang, the door shut behind him.

Mr. K turned to face Lumian. "Why do you want to attend our gathering?"

His voice was low and gravelly.

"For potion formulas, Beyonder characteristics, mystical items, and mysticism knowledge. It's not like it's for love or faith, right?" Lumian replied with intentional cynicism.

He then chuckled.

"I know that's not what you want to hear, but it doesn't matter. I don't mind telling you about me."

Lumian's voice deepened.

"In a catastrophe brought on by Beyonder powers, I lost my entire family.

"Not only did it cause me immense pain, but it made me realize that those so-called orthodox gods can't save us!

"From that day on, I sought Beyonder power and a way to forget all pain. I wanted to become powerful enough. I wanted those who brought me misfortune to experience the same torture."

The hooded Mr. K seemed to stare at Lumian without interruption. As for Osta Trul, he was visibly shocked. Ciel's words revealed raw, unmasked pain. His desire for the Samaritan Women's Spring was genuine!

Once Lumian finished speaking, Mr. K nodded and said, "There are two rules for participating in our gathering:

"Second, don't attempt to follow other participants."

Only these two? Lumian hadn't expected so few constraints.

He didn't need to think hard to spot several loopholes immediately.

Not attacking directly? Does that mean I can use Provoke to incite the other party to death?

Just because I don't attempt to follow doesn't mean I can't do anything else to the target…

Is selling fake ingredients, fake formulas, fake Beyonder characteristics, and fake mystical items also allowed?

Lumian suppressed his urge to retort and nodded.

"No problem."

As he responded, he felt Mr. K's gaze on him, scrutinizing every inch of his flesh and skin.

It made him feel like he was in the sights of a venomous snake.

After a few seconds, Mr. K continued, "If you prefer not to disclose what you have and what you're after, you can write down your desired transaction in advance, and my attendant will copy it onto a portable blackboard for all participants to see. If you don't think it matters, you can make your request on the spot.

"Likewise, at the gathering, you can complete transactions through my attendant or directly with the other party.

"Remember, transactions carry risks. I can't guarantee the authenticity of all items, materials, or information. Of course, you can opt to pay me to notarize them, effectively reducing the risk."

A Notary's power? Lumian recalled Aurore's grimoire.

This was Sequence 6 of the Sun pathway, and most Beyonders in this pathway belonged to the Eternal Blazing Sun Church.

Given this, Lumian suspected Mr. K might not be a Notary, but rather possess a related mystical item.

Lumian quickly collected himself and asked Mr. K, "May I write down my requirements now?"

Mr. K nodded and gestured towards a desk on the right side of the room.

"Write them there. My attendant will collect them."

Lumian approached the brown desk, adorned with Psychic, Lotus, Arcane, and other magazines. He unfolded a fragrant letter and picked up a dark-red fountain pen. After some thought, he wrote:

"1. I possess a damaged Beyonder weapon. Seeking someone capable of repairing it. Price negotiable.

"2. Buying information on a peculiar creature. This female-looking entity is suspected to be a Spirit Body. It has long turquoise hair that envelops its body and exudes an alluring aura. It can induce erotic dreams with itself as the central figure. Additional details unknown. Reward depends on the value of information provided, ranging from 10 to 100 verl d'or."

Lumian considered adding a third point about a Provoker's acting experience but decided against it after some thought.

He remembered Aurore mentioning acting techniques, the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Conservation, and other mysticism knowledge in his nightmare. Such knowledge wasn't common among ordinary Beyonders. And he was currently impersonating a newcomer who had just entered the Beyonder world due to a disaster, seeking more knowledge and resources.

If he were to write the word "acting," Mr. K would surely grow suspicious.

Of course, Lumian didn't think of it as a pretense. He genuinely was a novice who had entered the Beyonder world following a disaster and sought more knowledge and resources. However, his involvement in the original disaster was quite high-level, allowing him to encounter powerful figures like Madam Magician. As a result, he possessed extensive high-end knowledge but lacked common sense, relying on Aurore's grimoire to fill the gaps.

Having set down the letter and pen, Lumian left with Osta and entered a room at the end of the corridor.

The room appeared to be a salon. Sofas, chairs, a round table, a coffee table, barstools, and other furnishings were arranged casually, creating a relaxed atmosphere.

Several gathering attendees had already arrived. Some wore black robes and hoods that nearly covered their faces. Others donned clown or devil makeup, while a few wore crude or intricate masks.

For a moment, Lumian felt as if he had entered a masquerade ball.

He and Osta Trul took separate seats after entering separately.

Lumian chose a barstool, almost tempted to order a glass of absinthe to complete the look.

Soon enough, Mr. K entered and settled into the armchair reserved for the organizer. His masked and gloved attendants brought in a portable blackboard filled with transaction requests.

The first thing Lumian noticed was a request for Beyonder characteristics.

"Warrior pathway Sequence 8 Pugilist Beyonder characteristic, 15,000 verl d'or. Negotiable."

A Sequence 8 Beyonder characteristic selling for 15,000 verl d'or or more? Lumian was initially stunned, then overwhelmed by heartache and regret, as if he longed to drink from the Fountain of Oblivion.

He had just killed Margot, a Sequence 8 Provoker of the Hunter pathway!

Playing it safe, Lumian hadn't harassed Margot until the Montsouris ghost attacked, leaving the battlefield early.

While he had gained over 1,000 verl d'or from Margot through the fate exchange, it paled in comparison to the worth of the Provoker Beyonder characteristics.

Moments later, Lumian barely pulled himself together.

His actions had been the best course. If he had continued to pester Margot, something might have gone awry or drawn the authorities' attention. While Margot would still be dead, he could have landed in another crisis.

Lumian then examined the other transaction details.

"One Elf's Dark Leaf, 180 verl d'or."

"Two pages of Emperor Roselle's original diary. 300 verl d'or."

"Sequence 6 Baron of Corruption potion formula, 65,000 verl d'or."

"…"

As Lumian scanned the list, he understood why his sister Aurore was so extravagant with her spending.

"Let's begin," Mr. K rasped, scanning the room.

His attendants read the entries aloud one by one. Some went unanswered, while others were discreetly finalized through the attendants.

Lumian observed quietly, intent on familiarizing himself with these situations and gathering intel.

As the gathering neared its end, the attendant by the portable blackboard finally announced Lumian's first request.

Silence ensued.

After more than ten seconds, a man lounging in a corner divan snickered.

"Most of those skilled in restoring mystical items and Beyonder weapons are found in the God of Steam and Machinery Church. Try looking there."

His face was smeared with oil paint, as if he were masquerading as a savage from the Southern Continent's forests.

Ignoring the unfunny remark, Mr. K's attendant relayed Lumian's second request.

The gathering's attendees exchanged bewildered glances, as if this strange creature was news to them.

Just a bunch of clueless Low-Sequence Beyonders… Lumian inwardly scoffed in disappointment.

Just then, the man who had joked earlier shared, "This brings something to mind. Heh heh, here's a freebie.

"Where the Srenzo River meets the Ryan River downstream, there's a town called Aunett. Many middle-class Trier folks enjoy sailing and swimming there.

"Early last year, or maybe earlier, three consecutive female deaths occurred. They died of weakness from overindulgence, with no known partners, secret or otherwise. Their only shared trait was telling friends about the vivid, alluring dreams they'd been having recently."

-x-X-x-

The situation bears a resemblance to Charlie's case, but with a crucial difference: these victims are all women, while Charlie is a man…

Could it be that the strange entity believed to be Susanna Mattise isn't constrained by gender? Or is there another, male counterpart to the creature?

The latter seems more probable, given that all three victims in Aunett were female and no males had been targeted.

Yes, there are distinctions between the three women and Charlie. None of them had a partner, either openly or secretly, and Charlie had become Madame Alice's lover not long after invoking Susanna Mattise. If that hadn't happened, would he have met the same fate as the three victims, drained of life by overindulgence?

Had Madame Alice been a sacrificial substitute? Or had that been merely the beginning?

Lumian pieced together a theory based on the information provided by the man with the painted face.

He hoped the authorities would take this case seriously and not rest until Susanna Mattise had been utterly vanquished.

As for whether the authorities would suspect Beyonders hiding among Charlie's friends due to the letter, Lumian wasn't too concerned. He had intentionally obscured Charlie's information and circumstances in the letter, even inserting a small mistake in a seemingly insignificant detail. The writer appeared to harbor a deep grudge against Susanna Mattise, having tracked her for an extended period, and sought to use Charlie's situation to enlist the help of the authorities for revenge. As a result, the focus was more on Susanna Mattise's issue, with a limited understanding of Charlie.

After the assembled participants discussed the strange case in Aunett, Mr. K's attendant unveiled an object shrouded in a black cloth.

Another attendant introduced, "This is a painting from a friend of one of our participants.

"He was a fellow Beyonder who met an untimely and bizarre end two months ago. Before his death, he created this painting."

With a swift motion, the attendant removed the black cloth, revealing the deceased Beyonder's final masterpiece.

The oil painting was a riot of vivid colors, weaving a surreal and mesmerizing scene.

Towering green weeds reached for the heavens, a golden sun lay hidden in a well, a blood-red river cascaded from the sky, a shadowy figure danced, and white skulls coalesced into clouds…

Merely glancing at the painting left Lumian feeling disoriented.

The attendant who had introduced the painting elaborated, "This artwork bears a potent psychic imprint. It affects the minds of all who view it, inducing confusion and vertigo to varying degrees. Prolonged exposure could even result in mental illness.

"According to the letters and diary entries left by the painting's creator, it may hold clues to the essence of reality and the origins of mysticism.

"This could also be the key to understanding the true nature of his strange demise.

"Any participant interested in studying the painting can negotiate a price."

You want to sell something like this for money? I wouldn't take it even if you offered it for free! Lumian grumbled internally, tearing his gaze away.

He wanted nothing to do with anything that concealed the truth, essence, or origin of the world. As Aurore had once said, one shouldn't look at or study things one shouldn't see or understand.

It was apparent that most of the gathering's participants were reluctant to spend money on such a foreboding painting shrouded in mystery. Ultimately, Mr. K's attendant put it away, once again veiling it with the black cloth.

Following that, the gathering transitioned into an open discussion stage. Attendees engaged in casual conversation about rumors and legends, careful to hide any details of their true identities.

At 10:15, Mr. K declared the gathering over, and the participants dispersed in groups.

As he departed, Lumian detected the organizer sizing him up, scrutinizing his every move.

Will he send someone to follow and investigate me? Lumian couldn't help but wonder.

Rather than being concerned, he was eager for it to happen.

Aside from occasionally summoning a messenger, his behavior was unremarkable. He could withstand any scrutiny!

As long as he refrained from contacting Madam Magician, Lumian believed Mr. K would soon receive an almost entirely truthful report—Ciel, a wild Beyonder lacking common sense in many areas, was suspected to hail from Cordu and sought Guillaume Bénet and his associates. He was also a wanted man.

In this scenario, if Lumian demonstrated his skills and extreme attitude, it wouldn't be long before he received an invitation from Mr. K to join his ranks and become a part of the organization behind him.

Sometimes, "inadvertently" revealing one's vulnerabilities and true circumstances was an effective means of gaining trust.

With that, Lumian and Osta found a concealed corner at 19 Rue Scheer, where they removed their disguises before returning to Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

As he made his way towards Rue Anarchie, Lumian's brow furrowed in confusion.

He hadn't noticed anyone tailing him.

Is it because Mr. K has no plans to investigate me, or had the person shadowing me been so skilled and uniquely gifted that I had failed to detect their presence? Lumian pondered the possibilities but ultimately pushed them to the back of his mind.

In any case, he wouldn't fear an investigation, unless Mr. K was in league with the Poison Spur Mob.

Upon entering Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian noted that he was still early. He crossed the now pristine lobby and descended into the basement bar.

Before he could take in the scene, Charlie's exuberant voice reached his ears.

"Can you believe it? Just three hours ago, I was at police headquarters, accused of murder. Now, here I am, drinking and singing with all of you!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I've had an incredible experience like no other. I bet none of you can top it…"

The apprentice attendant leaped onto a small round table, beer bottle in hand, and addressed the surrounding patrons.

His short brown hair was disheveled, as if it hadn't been tended to in days, and stubble was evident around his mouth.

Already? Lumian had anticipated it would take Charlie another two or three days to be released.

Spotting Lumian from the table, Charlie waved his short arm and called out to the crowd, "I'll share that even stranger encounter with you all later!"

Donning a linen shirt and black pants, he hopped off the table and jogged to the bar counter, beer bottle in hand. He took a seat beside Lumian and said to the ponytailed bartender, Pavard Neeson, "A glass of absinthe! Thank you."

Turning to Lumian, he said, "This one's on me."

Lumian accepted the offer with a calm smile.

"You're looking pretty good."

"Of course. At least I don't have to worry about being hanged. I'd hate for thousands to gather around me as I die, considering how nobody cares about me when I'm alive," Charlie said, relief evident on his face.

Trier's citizens reveled in witnessing the execution of death row inmates.

Whenever someone faced the gallows or a firing squad, the streets would overflow with onlookers.

In the classical era before Emperor Roselle, there even existed a custom centered around this fascination: En route from the prison to the gallows, if any bystander agreed to marry the condemned, their sentence would be commuted, reduced, or even entirely absolved.

"Are you completely fine?" Lumian inquired further.

Charlie took a swig of beer and scanned the room. Lowering his voice, he said, "I can't divulge the specifics. I signed a pledge, a notarized pledge. You can't imagine how powerful that is…"

Charlie caught himself and continued, "The only downside is that I've lost my job again. That blasted foreman thinks I've tarnished the hotel's image. No matter. I'll pawn the diamond necklace tomorrow. The officers have already returned it to me. That money will tide me over for quite some time. I can treat the café waiters on Rue des Blouses Blanches to drinks. I'll surely find a better job!"

He wanted to add, "Let's go together when the time comes," but recalling Ciel's nerve and capabilities, he quietly discarded the idea.

Lumian sipped the absinthe the bartender had slid his way and gestured for Charlie to join him in an empty corner.

Once certain that the noise around them was sufficient to drown out their conversation and that no one was eavesdropping, Lumian asked, "Has the situation with Susanna Matisse been resolved?"

"I don't know." Charlie shook his head. "They did a lot of things, but I can't tell you."

"Did they promise to provide protection for a period of time?" Lumian asked thoughtfully.

Charlie replied awkwardly, "I can't tell you."

Lumian grinned, retorting, "Seems like there is."

If they hadn't promised protection, the corresponding words wouldn't exist and wouldn't be restricted by the confidentiality pledge.

"Uh…" Charlie hadn't expected Ciel to guess so accurately.

Lumian inquired, "Did they tell you anything? Share what you can."

Charlie pondered for a moment and said, "They told me not to panic if I had that dream again. I'm to head to the nearest cathedral after dawn. You don't know about the Eternal Blazing Sun's cathedral, do you? I'm now a true believer of the Eternal Blazing Sun!"

Lumian expressionlessly raised his right hand and traced a triangle on his chest.

"…" Charlie fell silent.

After drinking with Charlie, Lumian returned to Room 207 and continued studying Aurore's grimoire.

He washed up before midnight, lay on the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lumian was jolted awake by an insistent knocking on the door.

Who could it be? Frowning, he gripped Fallen Mercury and cautiously approached the door, cracking it open.

Charlie stood outside.

Still clad in a linen shirt, black pants, and strapless leather shoes, his face was ashen and fear-stricken.

Upon seeing Lumian, he appeared to regain his composure. Nearly losing control of his voice, he stammered in terror, "I dreamed of that woman again!"

-x-X-x-

In the dimly lit corridor, bathed in the eerie glow of the crimson moon, Charlie's voice echoed, sending shivers down one's spine.

Dreaming of Susanna Mattise again? Lumian's alarm gave way to surging anger.

Are you out of your damn mind? If you had that dream again, go to the nearest Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral and find a clergyman! I'm not your father to have you report your wet dreams to me!

Casting a glance at Charlie, whose face was a mask of terror, Lumian reined in his emotions and spoke in a low voice, "Relax. This was bound to happen. For now, get some sleep and seek help from the nearest cathedral at dawn."

Charlie appeared on the verge of tears.

!!

"B-but, in my dream, she said if I dared to seek help from the Church, she'd kill me on my way to the cathedral!"

"You communicated in the dream?" Lumian was taken aback.

Charlie nodded frantically.

"Yes. Before, she never spoke in my dreams. She only satisfied me, warm and gentle. This time, she warned me. She warned me!"

Could it be that Susanna Mattise hasn't fully transformed into a monstrous creature and still possesses some level of intelligence? Lumian's thoughts raced, and he felt a pang of sympathy for Charlie.

If Charlie couldn't get help from official Beyonders, he'd likely end up like the three female victims in Aunett Town, lost in dreams until drained of life.

Hold on, are the official Beyonders handling Charlie's situation so carelessly? Didn't they consider the possibility of Charlie being killed by Susanna Mattise? Lumian instantly thought of Ryan, Leah, and Valentine.

None of them would dismiss the case so casually, merely instructing the victim to rush to a cathedral if he faced any issues.

Remembering how the clergyman from the Church stayed with the lunatic upstairs and protected him after encountering the Montsouris ghost, Lumian grew suspicious.

The official Beyonders overseeing Charlie's case intentionally downplayed the threat posed by Susanna Mattise, allowing him to return to the motel. They claimed the situation was mostly resolved and instructed him to seek help from the cathedral if any issues arose—all to lure Susanna Mattise into revealing herself again!

Realizing this, Lumian looked at Charlie and said coolly, "If you trust me, return to your room, lie down, close your eyes, and sleep until dawn. Don't worry, it'll all be sorted out."

Lumian appeared unruffled, but inwardly, he was cursing.

Get your ass back to the fifth floor! By now, the official Beyonders monitoring the area should've detected the anomaly and be preparing to act. Why are you standing in front of my door? Are you trying to get me caught?

"I, I…" Charlie hesitated, his eyes filled with terror.

Will everything truly be resolved if I do nothing?

Lumian exhaled and forced a smile.

Lumian resorted to coaxing and deception, desperate for Charlie to leave the second floor.

Charlie's face brightened, and he exclaimed excitedly, "Thank you, thank you!"

The moment he spoke, Lumian caught the scent of vegetation, tainted with an unsettling aroma.

In an instant, greenish-brown vines and branches unfurled from the walls, ceiling, and floor. They sealed the windows and doors of the other rooms.

At the staircase, a woman's voice, both beguiling and unnerving, rang out.

"Charlie, are you really going to betray me?"

Charlie's eyes widened in shock as he turned toward the sound.

He saw the woman from his dreams, her turquoise hair cascading from her head to the floor, reaching out to the surrounding walls and ceiling above, melding with vines and branches.

Without her turquoise hair shrouding her body, Susanna Mattise stood entirely exposed, her beautiful curves on display. Scattered among her flesh were flower buds and tree warts—some red, some white, some green, and some brown.

As she spoke, the vivid flower buds and bluish tree warts opened and closed, oozing a foul-smelling, viscous liquid.

The repulsive scene left Charlie feeling as if he'd plunged into a nightmare. He stood there, trembling, his mind a haze.

Susanna Mattise looked at Charlie, her eyes brimming with affection.

"Have you forgotten our blissful moments in the dream? Charlie, I'm your wife."

Snapping out of his stupor, Charlie nearly crumbled.

"No! No!"

You idiot! Just say something to placate Susanna! Lumian cursed himself for not reacting quickly enough to silence Charlie.

Susanna's expression frosted over.

"Then stay with me forever."

At her words, the terror in Charlie's eyes vanished, replaced by infatuation as he eagerly moved toward the monstrous being.

A moist flower bud on Susanna's lower abdomen opened unnaturally wide, unlike the other flower buds and tree warts that closed slowly.

It seemed to await Charlie.

Simultaneously, Susanna glared at Lumian, her voice seething with hatred, "It's all your fault. You incited Charlie to betray me!"

"Why don't you take a look in the mirror and see how horrifying and repulsive you've become? If I were Charlie, I would've kicked you out of my dream from the start!" Lumian's instincts told him pleading for mercy was futile. Instead, he chose to retaliate and provoke Susanna, hoping to uncover her weakness.

Merely standing near the bizarre creature, Lumian felt a mix of exhilaration and dread. He longed for her, yet resisted, as if caught in a whirlpool of desire, consumed by an overpowering sense of helplessness.

This proved she was far stronger than him!

Lumian cursed inwardly as his thoughts raced, searching for a way to buy time.

He was sure the official Beyonders would arrive soon!

What in the world is this monster?

Why does she believe she's Charlie's wife?

Wife…

In that instant, as Susanna Mattise screeched, incensed by his words, an idea struck Lumian.

As her scream filled the air, vines and branches surged toward Lumian, amplifying the fear lurking in his heart to the point of near-collapse.

His legs weakened, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

Summoning his ruthlessness, Lumian managed to extend his right hand, grabbing Charlie, who was about to rush toward the creature.

With Fallen Mercury in his left hand, he pressed the sinister dirk to Charlie's throat.

Susanna Mattise looked bewildered, her anger palpable.

"What are you doing?"

Lumian smirked menacingly.

"I forgot to mention, my Beyonder weapon is called Cursed Blade.

"A single cut drawing blood will curse his entire family to death, including his wife.

"And you're Charlie's wife!"

Recalling the lunatic upstairs, Lumian suspected that the Montsouris ghost would target not only one's immediate family but also their spouse.

Although he didn't understand how a spouse was determined in mysticism, since Susanna Mattise claimed to be Charlie's wife, he treated her as such!

Of course, Lumian knew allowing Fallen Mercury to curse Charlie with the fate of the Montsouris ghost wouldn't immediately impact Susanna Mattise. It wouldn't affect the present situation at all.

He gambled that Susanna Mattise didn't know this, and that she could sense the danger in Fallen Mercury.

It was a bluff!

Susanna Mattise's expression froze, and the attacking vines and branches halted midair.

Her jade-green eyes radiated menace.

Lumian's vision shifted. He saw Guillaume Bénet, the hawk-nosed padre clad in a white robe adorned with golden threads.

Suppressed hatred erupted like a volcano.

Lumian released Charlie and advanced toward the "Guillaume Bénet" he had locked onto.

But before him stood only Susanna Mattise.

In that instant, Charlie, his face awash with infatuation, saw Lumian approaching his "wife" with a dirk. He lunged at the assailant, shouting, "Don't hurt her!"

Lumian snapped to his senses, realizing Guillaume Bénet had morphed into Susanna Mattise, her flower buds and tree warts blossoming one by one!

She controlled my emotions? In his shock, Lumian twisted violently, seizing Charlie again and pressing Fallen Mercury to his throat.

Susanna Mattise didn't conceal her disappointment. After a moment's silence, she parted her red lips.

Suddenly, the creature halted, staring solemnly at the wall near Rue Anarchie in Auberge du Coq Doré.

In the next second, her turquoise hair retracted, and the vines and branches disintegrated, vanishing.

Wh— The official Beyonders are here? Lumian watched Susanna Mattise's figure burrow through the wall and disappear from the corridor.

He released Charlie and shook him, urging him to wake up. He quickly instructed,

"Lie down on the second-floor stairs and keep your eyes closed until someone wakes you!"

With that, Lumian pushed Charlie and retreated to his room, closing the wooden door and feigning sleep, like the other tenants.

As Susanna departed, the obsession faded from Charlie's eyes. When Lumian jolted him back to reality, he had no choice but to follow Lumian's directions. He jogged to the staircase leading to the ground floor, lay down, and closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness.

Almost simultaneously, a red hue filled Charlie and Lumian's vision, as though the sun had risen prematurely, heralding the day.

…

Minutes later, a golden sword formed from light stabbed into the ground of Rue Anarchie, skewering a writhing turquoise vine.

"Is it resolved?" A young man with the Sun Sacred Emblem pinned to his chest asked the one brandishing the sword.

He was a rugged man with blond hair, golden eyebrows, and a golden beard, wearing a brown coat adorned with two rows of golden buttons.

He exhaled and declared, "We've resolved it for now, but unless we find the origin of this evil spirit, it's only a matter of time before she regenerates there."

-x-X-x-

"Evil spirits can reform again?" The young man bearing the Sun Sacred Emblem on his chest inquired, astonished.

From his mysticism knowledge and experience gained through case files, he knew that unless an evil spirit possessed unique abilities, purification equated to total annihilation.

Such soul-type entities were either the offspring of powerful Beyonders' deaths or vengeful spirits that managed to break through various constraints. The mightiest could even wield a degree of godhood, but resurrection and rebirth were not among their traits.

The blond man, clad in a double-breasted brown coat, straightened up and eyed the dissipating, writhing vines. After some thought, he said, "Evil spirits can have unique distinctions. Under specific conditions, they rely on an object to be born. This object often lies at the heart of their territory.

"As long as this object remains intact, the evil spirit, even if not entirely purified, will gradually reform within the corresponding area."

Evil spirits would assimilate their birthplaces, merging with the spirit world and the Underworld to obtain the power necessary to maintain their existence. Otherwise, they would slowly weaken until they vanished completely.

In essence, evil spirits had a fixed range of activity and couldn't wander far from their birthplaces. This was their "territory."

The young man donned in the Sun Sacred Emblem and a white robe adorned with golden threads roughly grasped the reasoning. He furrowed his brow and said, "We've been searching for days, yet we haven't found the birthplace of the evil spirit, Susanna Matisse."

Logically, Susanna Matisse couldn't stray far from her territory. If official Beyonders carefully searched Rue Anarchie and its vicinity, they would surely locate the evil spirit's birthplace and destroy the object it depended on.

However, this was Trier, a city with not only an above-ground area but also an underground section. Another Rue Anarchie and Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman mirrored the area above, with numerous obscure paths and empty spaces.

More crucially, deeper underground, lay Trier from the Fourth Epoch. Even for official Beyonders, it was a perilous place they scarcely comprehended.

As a deacon of Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman's Inquisition, Angoulême de Fran?ois had never understood why Trier had been rebuilt atop the original site, right above the sunken Trier of the Fourth Epoch, in the late era.

Although geographically ideal, this decision had spawned countless troubles over the ensuing thousand years.

The Purifiers weren't incapable of resolving the Beyonder incidents; they just couldn't get to the root of the problem, hidden within the underground ruins of the Fourth Epoch's Trier.

Rumor had it that not even Demigods dared or were willing to venture into those depths.

Angoulême sheathed his golden longsword, which seemed to be condensed light, into a grayish-white, steam-powered humanoid head contraption, allowing it to sink into the corresponding "vertebrae."

Dark liquid seemed to fill the device.

A man in a white suit, yellow vest, and light-colored shirt, adorned with the Sun Sacred Emblem, emerged from Auberge du Coq Doré.

His light-yellow hair was neatly combed, skin-colored tape covered the bridge of his nose, and his lips were thick. A hint of a Southern Continent ancestry showed through his slightly brown skin.

"Deacon, I've spoken to Charlie Collent," he reported to Angoulême de Fran?ois.

Angoulême touched the golden button on his brown coat, asking, "Is he alright?"

The brown-skinned man shook his head, replying, "We arrived just in time. He wasn't physically harmed.

"According to him, after he dreamed of Susanna Matisse again, although she warned him, he still chose to seek help. He was intercepted by Susanna Matisse on the second floor of the motel and almost became one with her forever. At least, that's what she said.

This development seemed normal and reasonable, aligning with the details provided by the Purifier elite team led by Angoulême. Neither Angoulême nor the other two Purifiers had any doubts.

In their understanding, Charlie's request for help was in accordance with their instructions to head to the nearest Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral.

Angoulême surveyed the unusually quiet Rue Anarchie and nodded slightly.

"For now, let's put Charlie Collent aside. But if we don't find Susanna Mattise's birthplace in two weeks, consider arranging a civilian job for him and telling him the truth."

This was the standard procedure used by official Beyonders to protect ordinary people who had yet to fully escape the influence of Beyonder events.

Of course, it often appeared they had resolved the problem and informed the victim to live peacefully, only for the person to die mysteriously weeks, months, or years later.

Angoulême continued, "We have two priorities. First, investigate this area, including the underground, to find Susanna Mattise's birthplace. Second, locate the person who warned us with the letter. He seems to have deep knowledge of Susanna Mattise."

Before releasing Charlie, Angoulême and his team had secretly investigated Auberge du Coq Doré but found no suspicious areas that could be the birthplace of the evil spirit.

Additionally, they had used Beyonder methods to verify Charlie's encounter and confession. They confirmed that the victim had interacted with ordinary people from the moment he prayed to Susanna Matisse until he was arrested by the police.

That was why Angoulême suggested not to worry about Charlie's situation for the time being.

As for the sender, he had impressive methods and extensive anti-divination and anti-tracking experience. He had chosen to use a spirit world creature to write and send the letter.

It was worth noting that even when using the same descriptive incantation to summon a spirit world creature, a different one would likely appear each time.

The challenge with using just a three-line description was that it could potentially match hundreds of thousands of spirit world creatures, if not more. What they could summon each time relied solely on chance.

Without a corresponding medium and a description that highlighted the subject's unique traits, it was nearly impossible to zero in on the target spirit using the incantation alone. Most spirit world creatures simply weren't distinctive enough.

Angoulême had previously sought the help of colleagues adept in such matters. Employing the letter as a medium, he tried summoning the associated spirit world creature, hoping to glean any clues from it. Alas, whether it was the letter's transcriber, author, or sender, they came up empty-handed.

The issue could have been a flaw in the descriptive statement, or perhaps the corresponding spirit world creature sensed their ill intentions and refused the summoning.

Even with a flawless summoning ritual, it could still fail if the spirit world creatures fitting the description declined to respond. Only those Sequences skilled in summoning could significantly boost the odds or even force the issue. Naturally, Beyonders rarely faced such obstacles. Their three-line descriptions cast a wide net, ensnaring numerous spirit world creatures, with a handful always eager to enter the real world and absorb some spirituality.

…

Lumian feigned sleep, poised to flee at a moment's notice.

It wasn't until the nearby cathedral clock struck six that he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

Seems like the battle between the official Beyonders and Susanna Mattise has ended. They didn't even realize I briefly confronted her… Lumian rolled out of bed and rubbed his face.

He couldn't be certain if the official Beyonders had completely neutralized Susanna Mattise or if this ordeal was truly over.

Recalling Susanna's intense hatred for him, Lumian knew he couldn't rely on hope alone.

He decided to write a letter to Madam Magician, reporting his encounter with Mr. K and inquiring about Susanna Mattise's nature and weaknesses.

For good measure, he also planned to ask Hela, the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society's vice president—after all, Madam Magician wasn't all-knowing.

After penning the two letters and tidying the room, Lumian summoned two messengers at ten-minute intervals, ensuring each took the correct letter.

By the time he finished washing up and returned to Room 207, there were already two replies waiting silently on the wooden table.

Wow, Madam Magician is quick too. Did the messengers run into each other? If so, what would they talk about? Lumian muttered, picking up one of the replies.

The letter was from Hela.

"Similar cases have occurred in the Northern and Southern Continents. Men and women often dreamed of the opposite sex and engaged in intimate acts, ultimately dying from exhaustion.

"If the victims have partners or lovers, these innocents are killed one by one by creatures like Susanna Mattise. These creatures seem to believe they're the dreamer's spouse.

"Such creatures are said to possess powerful abilities on par with Mid-Sequence Beyonders.

"Some details suggest Susanna may have already died, becoming a vengeful or evil spirit…"

It is indeed quite powerful… Lumian recalled his encounter the previous night, realizing that without Fallen Mercury's deterrence, Charlie as a "hostage," and Susanna's conviction that she was Charlie's wife, he might have been defeated within a minute.

After burning Hela's reply with a flame conjured from his spirituality, Lumian unfolded Madam Magician's letter.

"I'm unsure whether to congratulate or commiserate with you. Your chances of encountering an evil god's Blessed seem higher than those of ordinary Beyonders. This may be due to the corruption sealed within you.

"It's difficult to explain this phenomenon using the law of convergence of Beyonder characteristics. It's more like repulsive forces rejected by this world, attracting each other.

"That's my theory. I can't guarantee its accuracy. If I'm wrong, don't forget to inform me and provide the correct answer.

"Based on your account, I suspect Susanna was once a believer of an evil god, who bestowed her with strength equivalent to a Sequence 5.

"That evil god goes by the pseudonym Mother Tree of Desire in this world. Don't attempt to understand Her, let alone guess Her true and complete title.

"Susanna is likely a Fallen Tree Spirit or Spirit of Lust, also known as Baby Cupid in some regions. They can appear as men or women, engaging in intimate acts within dreams and absorbing the victim's energy. Over time, their possessiveness leads them to believe they're the victim's spouse, driving them to kill the victim's partner or lover in a fit of jealousy.

"However, Susanna also exhibited traits of a soul-type entity. It's highly plausible she met her demise in an accident or failed to endure the boon, morphing into an evil spirit. She grew increasingly paranoid, clinging to her instincts."

-x-X-x-