22 COI

Lumian had always believed that the tenant, like Charlie, had been enchanted by Susanna Mattise in his dreams. His vitality had been gradually drained, until he met a sudden demise in the room. Monsieur Ive, the hotel owner, had secretly transported the lifeless body to a secluded spot in Underground Trier. Little did he expect that the tenant would transform into a pervert with Beyonder powers. He now roamed Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman, preying on attractive women.

Lumian was convinced that Hedsey's newfound abilities stemmed from a boon granted due to the absence of Beyonder characteristics after death. It was clear that these powers originated from the same source as Susanna Mattise and Monsieur Ive.

In essence, not long after Susanna Mattise's portrait was plastered, something extraordinary had occurred to Hedsey. He had become a devout follower of the Mother Tree of Desire and received two to three boons within a few short months. As a result, he had gained significant strength and mastery over various mystical techniques.

For Beyonders who progressed by consuming potions, such speed was unimaginable, unless they possessed profound understanding and were at a remarkably low level.

However, Hedsey's boons also came with a downside. The recipient would be influenced by the power and gradually deviate from their true self. In certain aspects, they would become increasingly extreme, often engaging in actions that seemed irrational to ordinary individuals and inviting disaster upon themselves.

Both Monsieur Ive's miserliness and Hedsey's insatiable lust for women fell into this category.

Lumian suspected that nearly all boons had similar repercussions to some extent. Over time, they would inexorably draw the recipient closer to the bestower and induce corresponding mutations.

The reason Lumian remained unaffected by the powers of the Dancer and Alms Monk was that they didn't directly come from the hidden entity known as Inevitability, but rather the corruption within his body that had been filtered through the seal. Additionally, Lumian had always maintained a vigilant stance in such matters. He not only refrained from altering his style and way of life to exploit the traits of the Dancer and Alms Monk for greater control over his strength but at times even went against their influence.

Furthermore, Lumian would advance in Sequence and have a preliminarily digestion before obtaining the corresponding boon. He sought to preserve the balance of power within his body.

Lowering his head, Lumian whispered to Jenna in a hushed voice, "How did you discover this?"

As Jenna swayed to the rhythm, she pursed her lips and replied, "It's quite evident that the pervert cannot exist without women. Kidnapping a woman every day and dragging her underground simply isn't feasible, or else he would have been apprehended long ago. Damn it, there must have been several victims. Do those incompetent black-skinned dogs even notice?

"Then how does he usually solve his problem? Clearly, relying on himself isn't sufficient to satiate his desires. So, I enlisted Franca's help and inquired with the dancers and street girls from the Savoie Mob. I swiftly obtained an answer."

"How can that pervert, who deserves to be f*cked by a donkey, possess such virility? He can perform multiple times a day!"

"Why doesn't he pursue those wealthy old ladies? Both parties would be satisfied!"

Jenna recounted her investigation with a sense of pride, showcasing her intellect.

Throughout the afternoon, she had been brooding over Lumian's earlier prank, which had made her appear foolish.

Before embracing the beliefs of the Mother Tree of Desire and receiving the boon, Hedsey was a regular visitor to Rue de la Muraille, Rue de Breda, and Rue du Rossignol. However, after obtaining the boon, his mind became consumed with thoughts of women… Lumian couldn't help but acknowledge that Jenna occasionally demonstrated some intelligence.

With that in mind, Lumian decided to share some information.

"That abnormal desire must be a result of his Beyonder powers' influence."

"Beyonder powers…" Jenna glanced up at Lumian.

She had expected him to feign ignorance, just as they did in Underground Trier, where neither side openly acknowledged Hedsey's displayed Beyonder powers. To her surprise, he spoke candidly.

After a brief pause, Jenna, who was dancing closely with Lumian, whispered in confusion, "Why do Beyonder powers make him so perverse?"

Lumian smirked once again. "It's an abnormal Beyonder power."

"Do you think I can't tell that it's abnormal?" Jenna grew infuriated once more.

Lumian chuckled.

"As for why it's abnormal, go back and ask Franca. If Franca doesn't know either, have her inquire with the Boss."

He shared this information with Jenna because he was concerned that there might be more to the issues surrounding Monsieur Ive, Susanna Mattise, Hedsey, and the others.

If the official Beyonders failed to uncover the truth, his only hope lay with Mr. K's finger and the Beyonders associated with the Savoie Mob.

Jenna snorted and dropped the matter. She refocused on dancing with Lumian.

As the music neared its end, she suddenly reached out and touched Lumian's chest.

"Haha, nice bod!" Jenna grinned, then retreated, heading towards the half-height wooden platform in front of the dance floor.

It seemed as though she had finally exacted her revenge for what had transpired underground. She was filled with elation.

Lumian scoffed and left the dance floor, once again picking up his glass of rye beer.

As he listened to the music, he swayed his body gently, all the while observing the situation within Salle de Gristmill.

As Lumian surveyed the area, his attention was drawn to a group of mobsters congregating near the stage. They wore a mishmash of outfits, surrounding a towering man who stood at a staggering height of nearly 1.9 meters.

The burly man bore a striking resemblance to "Giant" Simon. His black shirt and formal attire emphasized his bulging muscles, but the dark-blue canvas pants and strapless black leather boots seemed out of place, creating a peculiar ensemble.

With his tousled brown hair and slightly set-apart brown eyes, his ordinary facial features were complemented by a chiseled jawline. His hands and legs were longer than those of an average person.

"Hammer" Ait… Lumian averted his gaze, suspecting that this man was one of his targets.

In Trier, there weren't many individuals towering at nearly 1.9 meters

Lumian wasn't concerned about "Hammer" Ait and his subordinates recognizing him from this distance. The ballroom was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of gas wall lamps and a chandelier above, providing enough illumination for dancing and discreet conversations. Unless someone was intimately familiar with Lumian or had just seen him, they wouldn't be able to identify him.

Furthermore, Lumian had taken precautions to disguise himself. He hadn't anticipated Jenna recognizing him at first glance either.

After Jenna finished singing another song, "Hammer" Ait led his subordinates off the dance floor and ascended to the second floor.

Lumian continued his observations when he suddenly spotted a familiar figure entering the room.

It was Monsieur Ive, the proprietor of Auberge du Coq Doré, his attire slightly faded from washing.

His anxious and worried expression was evident as his blue eyes scanned the surroundings.

Is he searching for Hedsey? The pervert didn't return after leaving in the afternoon. They suspect something happened to him, so they're scouring the dance halls, seeking clues with the street girls? Lumian withdrew his gaze thoughtfully and shifted his attention back to the dancers on the floor.

Based on the characteristics exhibited by Hedsey's Spirit Body, Lumian sensed that Monsieur Ive was much weaker in comparison. He likely possessed the power of a Sequence 9 boon, focused on greed, possibly with elements of appetite.

As for Hedsey, he was likely on the level of Sequence 8, with a slim chance of being a Sequence 7. Lumian leaned more towards the former, as the few Sequence 7 individuals he had encountered before were formidable adversaries, difficult to overcome even with preparations and traps.

Of course, had Lumian not carefully observed and realized that Hedsey had the ability to trigger others' desires, he might have been swiftly dealt with.

In that environment, without Jenna's presence, Lumian would have relied on his own strength to resist the influence and not completely forget the existence of the enemy. With Showy Diva, it was challenging for him to restrain himself. He had to rely on pain to awaken his senses.

From the corner of his eye, Lumian observed Monsieur Ive engaging in conversation with the part-time street girl dancers. The way they scolded him, wearing expressions of disdain, struck Lumian as amusing.

Is he pretending to negotiate a price in order to gather information about Hedsey's whereabouts?

In the end, he's just too stingy, always bargaining down the other party's offer by half or more, resulting in their scolding?

Heh heh, Charlie was worried that Monsieur Ive, an old widower, wouldn't be willing to spend money on a licensed prostitute and risk contracting a disease. It seems he's overthinking it. Monsieur Ive can't even bring himself to spend money on an unlicensed street girl!

The negative effects of a boon are truly potent…

Hmm, if there are women in that group who possess the same boons as Hedsey and are on the same level, they should be in a constant state of hunger and thirst. Monsieur Ive wouldn't need to seek out another street girl. Heh heh, he would only end up despising himself for being a man. He would be on the verge of being drained dry, with his desires forcibly aroused.

The best disguises for those women would be dancers and street girls?

Something doesn't add up. If there really were such women, Hedsey wouldn't need to come out and harm others… Could it be that everyone at this level has advanced or died, with no replacements? Or is there an imbalance in the number of men and women? Is Hedsey the one being ostracized?

As Lumian contemplated these thoughts, the band struck up another lively dance tune.

After finishing her song, Jenna leaped off the half-height wooden stage once again and approached Lumian, inviting him to dance.

This elicited boos from the surrounding crowd.

Knowing that Jenna had something else to say, Lumian deliberately maneuvered to provoke those who were jeering.

He stepped onto the dance floor, drew closer to Jenna, and began swaying his hips.

Jenna looked up at him, smiling, and asked, "What brings a Savoie mobster like you to the Salle de Gristmill?"

Lumian clicked his tongue and chuckled.

"Don't you think I'm fond of you? Of course, I'm here to listen to your singing."

Jenna scoffed.

"Your target is 'Hammer' Ait, isn't it? You want to repeat what happened with Margot?"

"You're quite clever," Lumian praised in a taunting tone.

Jenna smirked confidently. "I can assist you and provide important information."

Lumian suppressed his nonchalance and asked thoughtfully, "What do you desire in return?"

Jenna snorted and cursed, "Are you f*cking underestimating me?

"Although I didn't thank you this afternoon, I won't forget that you saved me. Coincidentally, I'm familiar with all the dance halls in the market district. Moreover, I just had a chat with Ait about some matters after the performance. I should be able to help you."

Without waiting for Lumian's response, she gritted her teeth and continued, "'Hammer' resides in the innermost room on the second floor, towards Auberge du Coq Doré. He has ten thugs by his side. Four stationed at the door—two inside and two outside. Two by the window, two near the sofa, and two always behind him. They're all armed.

"The security wasn't this tight before, and there weren't as many people. It's all because of what you did to Margot.

"That room has an attached washroom. It's currently unoccupied. If the window is fully opened, it can just about accommodate a person.

"From the ventilation pipe in the ballroom kitchen, you can climb up to the second floor and bypass the guards stationed at the stairs. Then, enter the adjacent room and leap from the windowsill onto a narrow ledge outside the washroom. It requires considerable skill to pull off successfully."

-x-X-x-

Upon hearing Jenna's account, Lumian instinctively twirled and spun, his surprise evident as he asked, "How do you know all this?"

It made sense that Jenna would have a basic understanding of the room layout and the thugs' positions after venturing to the second-floor room and conferring with "Hammer" Ait. However, how did she know about the ventilation pipe in the ballroom kitchen leading to the second floor? Or jumping from the neighboring windowsill to the washroom? And what about the ledge on the outer wall of that specific room? Were these details within the grasp of an underground singer, known for her bawdy songs and exaggerated performances?

She shouldn't possess such knowledge!

Jenna, her face adorned with black eye shadow and a fake mole, sported a smug expression.

"Don't fret about how I know. I avoid seeing what I shouldn't, hearing what I shouldn't, and asking questions I shouldn't," she retorted, cleverly turning Lumian's words back on him.

This brought her considerable satisfaction.

Only those planning an assassination or devising an escape in dire circumstances would pay attention to such particulars and observe with a purpose… Which category does Jenna fall into? Her powers of observation in this environment are nearly on par with a Hunter's. Sequences leaning toward assassination required gathering environmental information. Assassination… Lumian's mind raced, concocting a plan to bluff Jenna.

Grinning mischievously, he uttered, "So you're an Assassin."

He stressed the word "Assassin."

Jenna's expression changed, her smile freezing.

"How did you figure it out?" she blurted out, shocked.

"By using my brain," Lumian replied, his smile unwavering.

There were still a few Sequences that excelled at environmental observation. Lumian had taken a bold guess, considering Jenna as an Assassin. He recalled Ryan and his companions mentioning that Demoness was a relatively common pathway in the central and northern regions of Intis, especially Trier. In any case, he had nothing to lose if he was wrong.

Meanwhile, Lumian pondered to himself, Not long after arriving in Trier, I encountered an Assassin and came to her aid. Can this be seen as a manifestation of the convergence of Beyonder characteristics?

Jenna can't have reached Sequence 7; she isn't a Witch. Otherwise, even if weakened by the sedative on the paper, she could have effortlessly overpowered Hedsey with her mystical abilities. The term Witch clearly indicates proficiency in spells and curses, as Aurore's notebook had mentioned.

She is unlikely to be a Sequence 8 Instigator. How could an Instigator be fooled by me repeatedly?

But it isn't out of the question. Perhaps Jenna had been more foolish in the past and relied on the Instigator path to enhance her intelligence? Furthermore, her willingness to provide information on "Hammer" Ait could be interpreted as a form of instigation.

Heh heh, Jenna is a woman, so there's no need to worry about her gender changing after consuming the Witch potion.

Where had Jenna obtained the potion? Had Franca given it to her? Could Franca also be a Beyonder following the Demoness pathway?

If Franca is only a Sequence 8, that would be fine. But what if she were a Sequence 7 Witch? Who knows if Franca had been male or female before? Well, her behavior towards women is certainly peculiar. She is in a romantic relationship with Jenna. Hmm…

Jenna quietly contemplated her recent words, but she didn't uncover any information that might have revealed her own Sequence.

"Although you can fight, I believe there's a high chance you'll be killed on the spot if you engage him in a place like the washroom, which isn't spacious enough."

"Madame, are you persuading me or taunting me? It seems you still possess some potential as an Instigator," Lumian candidly voiced his thoughts, not holding back his criticisms.

He realized that Franca knew "Hammer" Ait better than Baron Brignais. She had mentioned a crucial point that the latter had omitted.

Setting aside the possibility that Franca had a personal grudge against "Hammer" Ait, Franca either had a formidable background or had earned the trust of the boss of the Savoie Mob, gaining access to more mysticism knowledge and Sequence information than Baron Brignais.

Jenna was taken aback. "You know about Instigators?"

Is this still a country bumpkin from the countryside? How does he possess such extensive knowledge about the Beyonder pathways?

Franca had mentioned that he's wanted by the authorities. It seemed he had been involved in a Beyonder incident?

"I know more than you think," Lumian replied, smiling.

As he spoke, he suddenly recalled a title that had recently belonged to him: "Mysticism Illiterate."

Lumian swiftly pushed aside his melancholy and earnestly considered Jenna's warning.

Indeed, while Hunters were also skilled in combat and killing as Sequences, if traps and abilities like Provocation were excluded, they still couldn't match the prowess of Pugilists in close combat. Especially in a confined and cramped environment, they couldn't employ their combat intelligence effectively. It would be difficult for them to achieve the feat of the weak defeating the strong.

Taking into account the modifications to his Dancer abilities and the utilization of various unorthodox tactics, Lumian felt he could just about hold his ground. He wouldn't fail immediately. If he wanted to eliminate "Hammer" Ait, he could only rely on Fallen Mercury and escape after a successful strike.

But what set this apart from killing "Baldy" Harman? There was no need to factor in the presence of ten thugs and ten revolvers.

Lumian assessed his possessions to see if anything could be useful in such a battle.

Over 1,700 verl d'or… Fallen Mercury… Blood from the aquatic monster… Poisonous scales from the aquatic monster… A vial of the sedative that rendered Jenna powerless… A bottle of stimulating gas to counteract the effects of the sedative… A bottle of liquid with unknown properties… A dagger left behind by that pervert… A ritual silver dagger… Several white bandages…

As he contemplated, a plan gradually took shape.

As he swayed to the rhythm, he cast a sidelong glance at Jenna and posed his question.

"Is that washroom spacious?"

Jenna made confirmation. "No, it's not. Besides the bathtub, toilet, and sink, it can only accommodate four to five people."

In other words, if Lumian and "Hammer" Ait engaged in close combat, there wouldn't be room for anyone else.

"Is there a curtain outside the bathtub?" Lumian inquired further.

"Yes," Jenna pondered for a moment. "Do you have a gun with you? I believe it would be better to use a gun. It's safer and gives you a higher chance of success."

"I don't," Lumian replied, shaking his head.

Jenna sneered, "You intend to carry out the plan tonight with just that?"

She paused briefly before continuing, "If you truly wish to kill 'Hammer' Ait tonight, I can lend you my revolver."

"You still have a revolver on you?" Lumian was surprised this time.

He hadn't suspected that Jenna had a concealed revolver.

The Showy Diva wore a short white blouse with a wide collar that allowed her bra to peek out. Her beige fluffy short skirt and black boots that didn't reach her knees added to her attire. Moreover, she kept raising her legs as she danced. It seemed impossible for her to have a gun holster strapped to her inner thigh.

Lumian speculated that the only possible place for her to hide the revolver was within her pair of boots.

Jenna assumed Ciel was questioning why she carried a revolver, so she responded with a disdainful sigh.

"I perform in dance halls in places like the market district. Do you think all those monsters are upstanding citizens? Do you think they won't act impulsively and try something on me? Those pieces of filth have twisted minds all day. When their thoughts are controlled by their desires, they won't consider that I have a connection with Franca and a good relationship with her. Damn it, if deterrence always worked, there wouldn't be so many criminals!"

While speaking, Jenna followed the rhythm of the drums and crouched down, searching inside her boots.

Swiftly standing up, she pressed herself against Lumian. Twisting her body, she slipped her hand into his naturally lowered and swaying palm.

Lumian immediately felt the cold metal texture and the solid wood.

Without missing a beat, Lumian withdrew his hand and discreetly tucked the gun into his pocket.

Afterward, Jenna continued, "I bought it with most of my savings when I first arrived in the market district, before meeting Franca. That blasted black market merchant even tried to bed me, but I kicked his shin, making him scream in pain."

Carrying a gun for self-defense at all times… You're quite vigilant. Otherwise, those mobsters could have controlled you before meeting Franca. You might have even become a part-time dancer or a street girl… Lumian replied with a smile, "Well done!"

As the accompanying music reached its end, Jenna fell silent.

With the drumbeats fading away, Lumian observed Jenna as she walked toward the stage. He left the dance floor and returned to the outer circle.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to visit the washroom, he carefully examined and familiarized himself with the revolver Jenna had given him.

It was a compact revolver with a short barrel, ideal for concealed carry.

Its color was a dark iron-black, and the grip was crafted from walnut wood. It held a total of six bullets.

After tinkering with the revolver for a while, Lumian realized a predicament.

His shooting experience was lacking. Previously, he had primarily relied on the shotgun's wide spray of pellets.

Oh well. I don't expect to kill Hammer Ait with a single shot. Injuring and weakening him will suffice. At such close range, with my grip and some shooting experience, I can't miss by much…

In an environment like the washroom, there's only one opportunity for a shot. "Hammer" Ait won't provide me with a chance for a second shot… Lumian swiftly made up his mind.

Exiting the washroom, he headed toward the kitchen of the Salle de Gristmill, taking advantage of the absence of people in the vicinity.

-x-X-x-

As Lumian made his way, his nimbleness served him well in evading servers bustling with trays of food and busboys returning used utensils.

He pressed forward until he reached the kitchen, only to find it in complete disarray.

Stacks of unwashed utensils lay haphazardly in the sink, coated in layers of greasy oil. Two dishwashing maids stood by, tirelessly scrubbing away at the never-ending pile of dishes.

The stoves emitted fierce yellow flames, turning the small space into a sweltering inferno. Sweat poured down everyone's faces as they toiled away.

Three chefs, adorned in white aprons, each prepared their own dishes. They would occasionally taste their concoctions by dipping their fingers in the sauces or sampling a morsel, wiping their hands casually on their aprons before moving on to the next dish.

Once the chefs approved, the servers would whisk the plates away, oblivious to the fact that their thumbs often grazed the food and thick soups. They paid no mind to it whatsoever.

The kitchen helpers scurried around the chefs, chopping vegetables, handling fish, tidying up ingredients, taking out the trash, and fetching various seasonings and supplies. They never ceased their efforts, yet the kitchen remained in disarray. Vegetable leaves, fish scales, and fruit peels were strewn about, oily and scattered across the floor, near the stoves, and close to the sink.

The clamor of the chefs and kitchen helpers filled the air with shouts and curses, creating a chaotic symphony.

Lumian could easily mistake it for a battlefield if he closed his eyes and listened closely.

Taking advantage of the chaotic scene, Lumian deftly navigated through the busy crowd and reached the cabinet brimming with ingredients. Using partitions, handles, and the grayish-white gas and water pipes, he skillfully ascended to the ceiling and slipped into the ventilation shaft.

The overpowering smell of oil and smoke assailed Lumian's senses, nearly overwhelming him.

But with the tolerance of an Alms Monk toward extreme environments, he pushed himself forward, crawling through the ventilation shaft and occasionally climbing higher.

After about ten seconds, he poked his head out from above a second-floor washroom.

Ensuring the coast was clear, Lumian agilely leaped down and swiftly made his way to the door, carefully scanning both ends of the corridor in secrecy.

The area was eerily silent, with only two henchmen guarding the stairs, their focus solely on the first floor. They paid no mind to what lay behind them.

Relieved, Lumian let out a sigh and pinpointed his target. Crouching down, he leaped to the adjacent room.

Although the door was locked, Lumian encountered no obstacle he couldn't overcome. Utilizing a half-broken wire he had brought along, he managed to pry open the wooden door after a few attempts.

Just as Jenna had described, the washroom attached to "Hammer" Ait's room lacked a protruding window sill. It only had a decorative ledge, barely providing enough space to stand on its side.

Even for a Hunter, leaping from the window sill to the narrow ledge posed a significant challenge, demanding perfect balance.

Fortunately, Lumian possessed the extraordinary flexibility of a Dancer, almost surpassing human limits.

After careful observation, he jumped up and landed precisely on the ledge with his right foot. His left side wavered, threatening to tip him over.

Squatting down, he revealed only half of his head, peering silently into the room.

The washroom door stood ajar, and occasional mobsters passed by.

Lumian exercised patience, studying their movements until he discerned a pattern. Seizing the opportune gap when the washroom door was momentarily unattended, he skillfully pried open the window using Hedsey's dagger and clambered inside.

Maintaining composure and confidence, he swiftly closed the glass window before hurrying to the space beneath the bathtub, concealing himself with the undrawn curtains.

Lumian, having successfully infiltrated the premises, arranged his few essential items in easily accessible positions. He took a moment to double-check their locations, ensuring he wouldn't fumble in a state of panic.

Standing there motionless, he strained his ears to catch the activities in the adjacent room.

"Hammer" Ait occasionally inquired about their recent earnings to the dance hall manager, scolded his subordinates with anger, or engaged in flirtatious exchanges with the star dancer, accompanied by seemingly intimate gestures.

After a while, when the dance hall manager and the star dancer departed, Ait seemed to rise from his seat and began pacing slowly.

He addressed the mobsters in the room, saying, "In the following days, send out all your boys and have them 'visit' every individual within our territory. I want you to ensure that we know who can be elected as the market district's member of parliament in next week's election!"

Oh, so your mob is meddling in the parliamentary elections? Lumian felt a mixture of surprise and lack thereof.

The growth of Trier's mobs was impossible without some form of backing. They either maintained favorable relations with the police department and influential figures within it, enjoyed protection from powerful political figures, or acted as the black-gloved enforcers for influential merchants. The latter undoubtedly had connections to high-ranking government officials, upper echelons of the Churches, and military generals.

Lumian had never anticipated that the mastermind behind the Poison Spur Mob possessed the audacity to vie for a parliamentary seat. He had initially assumed their ambitions would extend no further than becoming the market district's police commissioner or a member of the Trier City Council.

Intis functioned as a parliamentary republic, where members of parliament represented various constituencies and formed the National Convention. This Convention held the authority to appoint the president, prime minister, who in turn appointed ministers—although their decisions required approval from the Convention.

The National Convention also possessed the power to legislate, declare war, and determine the government's budget. Each member of parliament held considerable influence and authority.

At present, the National Convention consisted of over 300 individuals, with one-tenth of them being former nobles. The Sauron family, once part of the royal lineage, served as their leaders. The remaining seats were allocated based on the economic status of different provinces and territories, particularly the prosperous Trier Greater Region.

Trier, whether in terms of population or economic prowess, stood unrivaled in Intis and the Greater Trier Region. It held nearly 40 seats in the National Convention.

These approximately 40 seats were distributed among 20 districts, accommodating as few as one member of parliament or as many as four to five. These representatives also held ex officio positions as councilors in the City Council.

The Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman, a relatively small constituency, possessed only one seat in the National Convention. The individual chosen to fill this seat would wield immense power and influence within the region.

Currently, the ruling National Party, the popular Enlightenment Party, and the Revolutionary Party, seeking to address existing flaws, were vigorously preparing for the upcoming National Convention elections.

The party that secured a simple majority in the Convention would become the new ruling party. Otherwise, they would have to negotiate, compromise, and form a coalition with another party.

In addition to the National Party, the Enlightenment Party, and the Revolutionary Party, Intis also had the Emperor Party (restorationists who advocated Roselle's rule) and the Carbonari. They voiced discontentment with the current system and sought to bring about change through force.

The mobsters replied one after another, assuring "Hammer" Ait that nothing would go awry.

However, they remained tight-lipped about which faction or candidate they supported, leaving Lumian feeling a sense of disappointment.

Tell me!

After briefing them on the election, "Hammer" Ait instructed his subordinates, saying, "Leave for a while. Return only when I summon you."

What is his plan? Lumian's eavesdropping had taken him by surprise.

Soon enough, the mobsters vacated the room, leaving "Hammer" Ait alone.

Lumian refrained from taking immediate action. After careful analysis, he believed that the confrontation between him and Hammer Ait in the washroom would have a more targeted impact than engaging outside, even without resorting to the use of Fallen Mercury.

The room beyond fell into an eerie silence. Lumian strained his ears and managed to catch faint voices.

It seemed like "Hammer" Ait was muttering to himself, "Protector of Evil People… The Lady who Births Deities…"

The Lady who Births Deities? That sounds impressive… Is Ait praying to some secret entity? There are about four or five sentences, and it's more of a description? It deviates from the usual three-stanza template… Lumian made a rough guess at what "Hammer" Ait was up to.

As for whom he was praying to, Lumian couldn't even begin to speculate based on the fragmented description he barely heard.

It lay beyond the scope of his current knowledge in mysticism.

Lumian felt a vague sense of malevolence emanating from the room outside.

Indeed, it was as if the room itself had turned wicked.

Holding his breath, Lumian composed himself, refraining from listening to the turmoil outside.

After a while, the sinister atmosphere dissipated, and everything returned to normal.

Lumian let out a slow exhale, heating up his palm.

At that moment, "Hammer" Ait summoned his subordinates, who had previously left the room, to return.

Lumian continued to bide his time.

Seconds turned into minutes until finally, he heard the heaviest footsteps approaching the washroom.

They belonged to "Hammer" Ait. Lumian had already distinguished their sound.

Swiftly, he retrieved a metal canister marked with a symbol.

Unscrewing the cap, he inserted a thin, pre-kneaded paper ball into the bottle.

Seconds before the footsteps drew near the washroom, Lumian retrieved the paper ball and twisted the cap shut.

He then tore the paper ball in two and inserted each piece into his nostrils.

The stench, reminiscent of fermented excrement, assaulted Lumian's senses, nearly bringing him to tears. His right hand instinctively moved to remove the thin paper ball.

With great resolve and the endurance of an Alms Monk accustomed to extreme environments, Lumian exercised control. His expression contorted, and his muscles twitched ever so slightly as he stood there, retrieving another metal canister filled mostly with gas. He unscrewed its cap.

Clang!

"Hammer" Ait shut the washroom door and approached the toilet bowl.

The space now became partially enclosed. Only the gaps between the door and windows allowed a hint of fresh air to seep in.

Yes, a gruesome encounter awaits him… Lumian observed the fluctuations in his target's luck, silently tossing the open metal canister into the air, allowing the colorless and odorless gas within to disperse and fill the washroom.

This was the sedative concocted by the perverted Hedsey. Even catching a whiff of it at close range could severely weaken an Assassin's strength!

It was ideal for a confined, partially enclosed space like the washroom.

This was the trap Lumian had set for "Hammer" Ait!

Of course, it would take some time for the gas to spread throughout the washroom and take effect to a certain extent. After all, Lumian himself wasn't breathing it in at close proximity.

What Lumian needed to do next was to prevent "Hammer" Ait from leaving the washroom or allow anyone outside to open the door.

He placed the open metal canister by the edge of the bathtub and retrieved Jenna's revolver, aiming it at the toilet bowl through the curtain.

-x-X-x-

The rush of water persisted, and Lumian grew anxious, fearing that "Hammer" Ait might sense danger. He needed to calculate the height just right before pulling the trigger.

Bang!

The bullet tore through the drapes, leaving behind searing scorch marks.

"Hammer" Ait's hair stood on end before any of this happened. He paid no mind to the fact that he was mid-stream and promptly collapsed to the side.

Yellowish liquid splattered in all directions. The bullet grazed Ait's arm, striking the wall and narrowly missing Lumian on the rebound.

Lumian's revolver flew from his grip after a missed shot. He seized the edges of the curtain, yanked it off, and used it to ensnare Ait.

Before Ait could recover from the agonizing cramps, darkness enveloped his vision, and he found himself wrapped in a cream-colored shower curtain.

Unfazed, he rolled and concealed himself beside the bathtub. Then, he grasped the shower curtain with both hands, using it as an improvised weapon.

With a soft whoosh, the curtain, now wrapped around Lumian's fist, veered off course, thwarting his attempt to strike Ait's head.

Ait seized the moment and rose, inadvertently tearing his pants in the process.

He swung his heavy fist at Lumian, hammer-like.

Lumian quickly raised his arm to shield himself, realizing that his opponent possessed exceptional strength—he couldn't withstand it.

Forced to retreat a step in order to regain his balance, Lumian found himself on the backfoot. Ait wasted no time, relentlessly bombarding him with a flurry of punches from both hands.

Leveraging his height, long arms, and superior strength, Ait employed straightforward punches akin to cannonballs, neglecting any fancy techniques.

It was only then that he could clearly discern the assailant's visage.

Golden hair tinged with black, bright and light-blue eyes, nostrils stuffed with bits of white paper—creating a peculiar sight.

Ciel? The same Ciel who killed Margot and gravely injured Wilson? Ait felt initial surprise, followed swiftly by delight.

He isn't that formidable. I can take him down completely!

The washroom proved confining, with Lumian enduring the putrid stench. He suffered two blows from the towering 1.9-meter giant before finding himself forced two steps back, cornered near the door.

At that moment, the mobsters outside heard the gunshots and hurriedly approached. One of them gripped the handle and pushed open the door.

Just as Ait's leg aimed for a low kick, Lumian's left leg suddenly swung back, forcefully striking the door.

With a resounding clang, the partially opened wooden door snapped shut again, narrowly missing the mobster's nose.

Realizing they couldn't breach the door for the time being, the mobsters drew their revolvers and aimed at the wooden barrier from various heights, but they dared not open fire.

Capitalizing on his kick against the rear door, Lumian contorted his body, evading Ait's straight punch and positioning himself beside his adversary.

Delivering a series of rapid strikes—punches, elbows, knees, and kicks—Lumian sought to disrupt the enemy's assault before they could fully unleash their power.

It resembled a Pugilist, the kind who habitually expelled force with grunts of "Heh!" and "Hah!", but now capable of only a single "Heh!" Each time Ait tried to strike with force, Lumian took the initiative and forcefully blocked him.

After altering his combat strategy, Lumian managed to narrow the strength gap between them. Not only did he regain some control, but he also utilized his greater agility to shift his body and change positions.

Soon enough, the figure blocking the washroom entrance turned out to be Ait, his back against the door.

Worried that his subordinates might lack intelligence and open fire from outside, accidentally killing him, Ait quickly diverted his attention and shouted, "Do not fire!"

Despite Ciel utilizing his technique to bridge the gap, Ait remained unfazed. He exuded immense confidence.

As long as he acted in a normal manner, he was certain he could eliminate his opponent in the confined washroom environment. The only uncertainty was the duration it would take.

Nevertheless, Ait remained vigilant. He continued to unleash powerful punches and kicks, attempting to force Lumian toward the window, creating an opportunity for his subordinates to enter.

Fearing that Lumian possessed some kind of Beyonder power, Ait believed that using the threat of a revolver would expedite the process of dispatching his enemy.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Lumian faced the relentless onslaught of the Pugilist's full-powered attacks without showing any signs of surrender. However, he found it increasingly strenuous.

Throughout this ordeal, Ait's eyes darted to his surroundings, wary of potential traps or powerful allies lying in ambush.

His gaze swept across the edge of the bathtub and landed on an open metal canister.

What purpose does it serve? Before Ait could ponder further, Lumian's mocking smile appeared, accompanied by a curse as he struggled to block Ait's onslaught.

"Useless piece of junk! What are you waiting for? Those outside, come in and lend a hand!"

A buzzing anger surged within Ait.

He discarded all other concerns and launched an unusually ferocious attack.

Provocation!

Lumian had added Provocation to those two sentences!

Confronted with the raging "Hammer" Ait and his devastating blows, Lumian fought desperately to hold his ground. Occasionally, he relied on the flexibility of a Dancer to shift positions.

Unbeknownst to him, he was gradually being pushed toward the wall with the window.

This allowed the washroom door to open, but the mobsters outside hesitated, fearing they might collide with "Hammer" if they kicked it open. They cautiously pushed it inward, inch by inch.

In that moment, Lumian, nearly overcome by the putrid odor, keenly sensed Ait's waning strength and slower attacks.

The sedative took effect! Lumian swiftly dodged to the side, regaining his balance. He threw a powerful punch, channeling all the strength from his arm and waist, launching a counterattack.

Bang!

Ait's arm, which had blocked the blow, visibly trembled, and his eyes betrayed a mix of surprise and panic.

Why? Why have I grown so weak?

Why have my reflexes slowed?

As Lumian grasped the state of his opponent, he unleashed two consecutive straight punches, forcefully parting the enemy's arms.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance and adjusted his body slightly. With a swift motion, he drove his left elbow into Ait's chest.

Caught off guard, Ait failed to react in time, unable to dodge the strike. The elbow connected, cracking his sternum. His vision darkened, and he struggled to catch his breath.

Lumian didn't grant him a moment's respite. He smoothly shifted his body, allowing his poised right fist to collide with Ait's abdomen.

He hadn't harbored any lofty expectations of rendering Ait unconscious solely with the sedative. After all, the other party possessed the ability to resist the effects of certain Beyonder powers through sheer physical and mental fortitude, suggesting a high resistance to the sedative. Furthermore, despite the compactness and semi-enclosed nature of the washroom, with its bathtub, toilet bowl, and sink, the drug's potency would be greatly diminished.

Lumian aimed to exploit the drug's influence to weaken Ait's combat prowess, slowing his reactions and substantially reducing his strength.

In doing so, the tide of victory would tip towards him uncontrollably!

Pfft!

Ait, reeling from the blow to his abdomen, instinctively curled up, becoming shorter than Lumian.

Seizing the opportunity, Lumian raised his fists and swiftly hammered them behind Ait's ears.

Bang!

Amidst the cacophony, Ait's vision faded to black, and he slumped unconscious.

It was the combined effect of a potent strike and the sedative.

Lumian squatted down, using "Hammer" as a shield.

The mobsters had already held the washroom door open for several seconds, but with Ait obstructing Lumian from their view, they refrained from opening fire.

Now, they witnessed their towering boss, Hammer, being taken down by the assailant.

Lumian clasped Ait and offered a smirk to the group gathered at the door.

"Go ahead! Fire! Why aren't you firing?"

One of the mobsters caught sight of the assailant's distinctive blonde and black hair, coupled with his rather handsome face, and suddenly pieced together a series of connections.

"Ciel? You're Ciel?" he exclaimed, his surprise evident.

The same Ciel who killed Boss Margot and threw Boss Wilson off the fourth floor?

Ciel of the Savoie Mob?

He's back at it?

Lumian keenly sensed the mobsters' profound fear. He grinned and gave Ait's shoulder a friendly pat, brushing off the dust.

Then, he took hold of Ait and proceeded towards the washroom door, one step at a time.

Simultaneously, he curled his lips into a smile.

"You've got two options. One, leave this room now and seek help from your Poison Spur Mob boss. Two, meet your demise here, one by one, at my hands."

As he spoke, he advanced, a cold gaze sweeping across the faces of each mobster, as if contemplating the best way to eliminate them.

The mobsters couldn't help but tremble, as a similar thought crossed their minds: Regardless, Boss Hammer has been apprehended. If we open fire, we'll only harm him. It might be wiser to seek help from the boss!

"Well?" Lumian snorted, urging them to decide.

With a swift swoosh, the first mobster turned on his heels and fled the room. The others followed suit, abandoning any notion of confrontation.

When no one remained, Lumian let out a silent sigh of relief.

If those men had truly steeled themselves, their hearts unswayed by fear, the confined space of the washroom and their ten firearms would have posed a lethal threat.

Of course, Ait could forget about survival as well.

They have no more than four minutes to reach Avenue du Marché from here… I must conclude the interrogation before "Black Scorpion" Roger and his comrades depart, granting me ample time to escape the scene and locate Baron Brignais at Salle de Bal Brise… Just four minutes… As Lumian assessed the current situation, he squatted down and propped Ait against the washroom's door panel.

Then, he dislocated his captive's shoulder joints and bound his legs together using a shower curtain. Opening the window, he allowed the breeze to circulate from both sides.

With these tasks completed, Lumian removed the paper balls from his own nose, retrieved the metal canister containing the pungent gas, and held it to Ait's nostrils.

Achoo!

Ait sneezed, his eyes fluttering open.

Lumian promptly stowed away the metal canister, capping it, ensuring the other party remained in a weakened state.

"What do you want?" Ait asked, fear and anxiety evident in his eyes as he recognized the person before him.

-x-X-x-

Lumian brandished Hedsey's dagger, a sly grin forming on his face.

"I've got a question for you."

"You could've come straight to me. No need for all this," Ait instinctively tried to stall for time.

With a quick glance, he scanned the room from the corner of his eye, but there were no lifeless bodies to be found.

Based on his combat with Ciel, Ait knew it was impossible for the other party to eliminate ten armed thugs without a single one escaping.

In fact, even Ait himself wouldn't dare to face the encirclement of ten revolvers in such a confined space. He might take down three or four of them, but he would surely meet his demise.

If Ait, with his abilities, couldn't pull it off, there was no way Ciel—who he believed to be somewhat weaker and reliant on cunning strategies—could achieve such a feat.

Given the circumstances, Ait assumed most of his ten subordinates had fled, while a few might have sought assistance from the Black Scorpion.

With this realization, a strong desire to survive surged within Ait.

As long as I don't anger Ciel and can buy myself six to seven minutes, there's a good chance I'll be saved!

"If I hadn't done this, how else could I have crossed paths with you, considering my relationship with your Poison Spur Mob?" Lumian deliberately created the illusion that he didn't intend to spill blood.

He raised the dagger, emphasizing his point.

"Enough with the games. Answer my questions. You know I'm not a patient person. If you refuse or lie, I'll end your life right here. I can always ask 'Baldy' Harman later. After all, there are plenty of folks in your Poison Spur Mob who know about those matters."

Lumian had compelled the mobsters to depart, not only due to the situation but also to seize control of the situation.

If he didn't make Ait believe he still had a fighting chance, prying answers from him in a short amount of time without employing mystical means would be futile.

A person who clung to hope would fear death all the more!

Ait promptly responded, "Alright!"

He resolved to divulge some information, delving into the details, hoping to hold out for those crucial six to seven minutes.

Naturally, he contemplated whether Ciel might abandon the inquiry at the last moment and execute him. Yet, aside from cooperating, Ait had no other choice. He could only hope the information he shared would be valuable enough to captivate Ciel's interest and prevent an untimely demise.

About three minutes… Lumian silently counted the seconds and posed his next question.

"Have you encountered Louis Lund?"

Ait hesitated.

In a swift motion, Lumian swung the dagger, piercing Ait's shoulder and eliciting a gush of crimson blood.

Ait, his expression contorted, felt the unyielding ruthlessness emanating from Lumian and sensed the specter of impending death drawing near. Fear gripped his heart.

He blurted out, "Yes! Wanted posters for Louis Lund can be found in Salle de Gristmill and many other places. The moment I laid eyes on him at the Boss's hideout, I recognized him."

Ait realized he couldn't rely on silence and hesitation to gain more time. That would only lead to uncontrollable consequences.

Lying was also risky since he couldn't be certain which questions Ciel was using to test his honesty.

In comparison, offering convoluted yet seemingly valuable information would be more likely to appease the other party.

As expected… Lumian was delighted.

Having confirmed the connection between Louis Lund and the Poison Spur Mob's "Black Scorpion" Roger, Lumian had achieved his objective for this operation. The remaining questions were just an added bonus. It would be nice to get answers, but it wouldn't be a deal-breaker if he didn't.

"Why did he go to 'Black Scorpion' Roger?" Lumian inquired further.

Ait shook his head.

"I'm not aware of the specifics, but I've heard that the lady Louis Lund is loyal to has arrived in Trier. She wants our Poison Spur Mob and their respective spheres of influence to coordinate efforts and avoid conflicts.

"Our boss, with the approval of Madame Moon, took charge of the liaison."

"Madame Moon?" Lumian never expected another Madame Moon to enter the picture.

He didn't even know what was happening with Madame Night.

"Madame Moon is the one the Poison Spur Mob swears loyalty to. Well, our boss has mentioned that she's not just a Madame anymore, but a Lady who Births Deities. We often offer prayers to her. I haven't seen her myself; only the Boss and Baldy have."

Not Madame… From Madame Moon to Lady who Births Deities… Had she received more boons and elevated her status? Lumian nodded in understanding.

"What's the relationship between Madame Moon and Madame Night?"

"They both belong to an organization called the Nightstalkers. Madame Moon appears to be the leader, or at least a significant figure at the leadership level." Ait provided a convoluted description of what he knew.

A secret organization that believes in some hidden existence? Lumian redirected the conversation to the matter that intrigued him the most.

"Will Louis Lund visit 'Black Scorpion' Roger again?"

"He'll likely come back next week to check if everyone has followed through on their agreements and if any adjustments are needed. I don't know the exact timing," Ait honestly responded.

I'll have the chance to reunite with Louis Lund on Avenue du Marché next week? And I'll be stationed there permanently after Sunday! Lumian felt a surge of delight and excitement.

He then pressed on, asking,

"What kind of power does 'Black Scorpion' Roger possess?"

"H-he's a Heretic Spellmaster," Ait stammered instinctively. "Our boss said it himself. The essence of a Heretic Spellmaster is using their life force to cast spells. It can be their own life force or someone else's, but it seems they need to be controlled beforehand."

So he truly is a Heretic Spellmaster… Truly wicked and cruel… Lumian recalled the battle with the midwife.

Observing Lumian's lack of surprise, Ait felt a sense of relief for not lying. He continued, "I've witnessed him using a few spells. One is a peculiar curse, another involves manipulating blood, then there's a kind of black flame that weakens people, and finally, he has some effects on corpses and ghosts. I don't know much else."

There's at least one more—the ability to create a 'turf' filled with undead creatures, allowing him to share damage and mysteriously teleport… Lumian silently muttered, his gaze fixed on Ait, gesturing for him to continue.

Ait steeled himself and spoke.

"Our boss also mentioned that if we perform well, he might receive more boons and become a Sower."

Having said that, Ait regretted his decision not to choose a boon back then and instead opt for a potion. It had caused his progress to be hindered by the need for ingredients and other factors. The hope of reaching Sequence 7 seemed distant.

As long as one contributed enough and their body could withstand it, they could attain more boons.

A Sower? A symbol of abundance and life? Hmm, when Madame Pualis was still Pulitt, he had many illegitimate children. He was despised by countless people in the Dariège area, to the point that his family had to disown him and pretend he had gone missing… Could this be a manifestation of a Sower's powers? Did Pulitt lose control under the influence of the boons? And after becoming a Sower, it appears that he underwent a gender transformation. Is that the level equivalent to the Madames, or is it one Sequence higher than them? Lumian's mind raced with numerous thoughts.

Observing Lumian's expression, Ait continued speaking.

"I don't know what comes after Sower. All I know is that Wilson is a Villain, equivalent to Sequence 9. Harman is a Gardener, and his strength is similar to mine, but he possesses extensive knowledge of botany. He can create potions with magical effects. Yes, he has a potion that temporarily hardens his skin like tree bark. I tried slashing him with a knife, but he only suffered minor injuries. He also has medicines to treat various illnesses and injuries."

So, becoming a Heretic Spellmaster requires being a Gardener. No wonder the midwife used those giant scissors as a weapon… Fortunately, I obtained this information. If I had assassinated "Baldy" Harman without giving him time to react, he wouldn't have used his body to shield Fallen Mercury… Targeted intelligence is truly valuable… Lumian sighed with a mix of emotions.

Ait pondered for a moment and continued, "Harman once mentioned that the spiritual monsters born from trees and flowers become highly frightened when they see him since he is a Gardener and responsible for their pruning."

Ait, who was trying to buy more time, quickly brought up another topic.

"Our boss mentioned that among the unrecognized paramount beings, only three can bestow godhood without much difficulty. One is the Great Mother of our faith, another has 'Desire' and 'Tree' in its name, and the third appears to be a mysterious fog. As for the other beings, if they wish to grant godhood, they have to perform a very, very complex ritual that would easily be discovered and destroyed."

The Mother Tree of Desire? What sets them apart from the being with the name Inevitability? Why can they bestow godhood without the need for an extensive ritual? Heh heh, I wonder what will happen when a Gardener encounters a Fallen Tree Spirit, the latter undergoing a suppression brought about by their inherent order in the hierarchy? Lumian's thoughts raced, and he suddenly changed the subject.

"Who is the candidate for parliament you support?"

"It's Hugues Artois from the Enlightenment Party." Ait's anticipation grew as he noticed that quite some time had passed.

If those rascals hurry, they'll meet the Boss!

Ait, who was waiting for Lumian to ask about the Poison Spur Mob's recent plans, suddenly saw the other party raise his right hand and swing his dagger.

With a soft sound, the dagger pierced Ait's temples and stirred them a few times.

Ait's mouth hung open in horror, and his eyes grew desperate and unfocused.

With a thud, he collapsed, no longer drawing breath.

Lumian left the dagger lodged in Ait's head and swiftly bandaged his wounds. He then stowed away his belongings, shouldered the lifeless body, and pushed open the room's window before leaping down.

Since it was only the second floor, his landing was steady, and he broke into a run.

Instead of taking the most direct route, Lumian opted for a detour through Rue du Rossignol, making his way to Avenue du Marché.

The late-night atmosphere offered scarce street lamps, casting a pitch-black darkness that seemed to consume anyone on the road.

It took Lumian over two minutes to carry Ait's corpse to the entrance of Salle de Bal Brise.

The two mobsters guarding the entrance were about to halt him when they recognized Ciel's face.

As a result, they ceased their interference and allowed him to enter.

…

In the second-floor café, Louis approached Baron Brignais's side, carrying a stack of papers, a black revolver, a bayonet, and a bag of bullets.

"Baron, I have everything prepared for Ciel."

More information and weapons.

Baron Brignais nodded.

"Send them to Auberge du Coq Doré tomorrow morning."

After issuing the instructions, Baron Brignais spoke with anticipation, "I wonder what kind of performance he will stage for us and when he will make his move. Do you think he will choose 'Hammer' Ait, 'Baldy' Harman, or 'Short-legged Candlestick'…"

Before Baron Brignais could finish his sentence, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted him.

The mobster guarding the first-floor entrance wore a terrified expression as he addressed Baron Brignais, "C-Ciel is here! He—he's carrying someone—or rather, a corpse!"

At that moment, Lumian emerged from the staircase, a smile on his face. His steps seemed heavier than usual.

"That is?" Baron Brignais looked at the lifeless body trailing behind Ciel, a mixture of confusion and seriousness on his face.

Lumian tossed the corpse to the ground, clapped his hands, and grinned.

"'Hammer' Ait."

-x-X-x-

With a resounding thud, the lifeless body crashed to the floor, sending a shockwave through the hearts of Baron Brignais, Louis, and their comrades.

Baron Brignais rose to his feet and beheld the corpse lying at Lumian's feet. He took in the tangle of abundant, disheveled brown hair, the lengthy limbs, and the imposing, robust physique.

It was none other than "Hammer" Ait!

Louis's eyes widened in disbelief at the realization that the treacherous member of the Savoie Mob lay dead on the café floor.

The baron had entrusted the task to Ciel right after dinner, and the hour had not even struck ten.

What's more, Ciel had managed to accomplish the mission before they could deliver the comprehensive intelligence and weaponry that would have enhanced his chances of success.

Moreover, "Hammer" Ait was a true Beyonder, surpassing even Wilson from before in strength. He wasn't as vulnerable as Margot, always surrounded by a retinue of followers. Yet, he had failed to survive three hours after the baron had issued the assignment.

Was this any different from purchasing a pig at Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman and slaughtering it?

Even if the baron had taken personal action, it wouldn't have been that effortless or straightforward. It could have even ended in failure.

Louis's gaze shifted from the lifeless body to Ciel's countenance, as if only now did he truly perceive the true nature of this rural novice.

It was somewhat understandable that Margot had fallen prey to him due to carelessness and the poisoned slash. Wilson's defeat could be explained away by his own feebleness and entrapment within the room. However, "Hammer" Ait was a Beyonder whose combat prowess was not significantly inferior to the baron's, and he had always been on high alert against potential assassinations by the Savoie Mob. He wouldn't have been careless.

Yet, Ciel had managed to dispatch such a formidable adversary within a matter of hours!

Just how formidable was he?

What were his limits?

In comparison to the baron, who was the stronger one?

A cascade of questions raced through Louis's mind, and his gaze at Lumian now held a tinge of fear.

The other thugs shared the same unease.

Baron Brignais's gaze constantly shifted between "Hammer" Ait's lifeless form and Lumian's visage, as if searching for any trace of deceit.

Had Lumian Lee effortlessly completed a mission that the baron himself would have considered challenging?

If "Hammer" Ait was so easily dispatched, why had the Savoie Mob, who had long sought to punish the traitor, allowed him to live until now?

This guy is even more terrifying than I had suspected. In terms of strength, intelligence, execution, and seizing opportunities, he is no less capable than I am… He must be concealing some secrets. There's more to him than meets the eye… Baron Brignais barely contained the turmoil within his heart and reclaimed the clarity, rationality, and intelligence he typically boasted.

Baron Brignais's expression turned to stone as he locked eyes with Lumian.

"Does anyone else know that you've taken down 'Hammer' Ait?"

Lumian replied candidly, "Quite a few."

Baron Brignais's countenance underwent a dramatic shift, losing its refined and confident air.

In that moment, all he wanted was to unleash a torrent of curses upon Lumian.

Is your f*cking brain filled with shit? So many people are aware of your involvement in 'Hammer' Ait's demise, and yet you boldly bring his lifeless body to Salle de Bal Brise, right in front of me?

Do you think that these individuals won't inform 'Black Scorpion' Roger? Do you believe he won't storm into Salle de Bal Brise seeking revenge?

Do you think I can fend off 'Black Scorpion' Roger? Damn it, you're leading me to my own demise!

You better find a bloody corner to hide in at Underground Trier!

Seizing the opportunity presented by Baron Brignais's subdued breathing and silence, Lumian smiled nonchalantly and said, "'Hammer' Ait's subordinates must have found 'Black Scorpion' Roger by now. Only you, Baron, can offer me sufficient protection.

"Baron, weren't you anticipating retaliation from the Poison Spur Mob? That's why you sent me to hunt down one of the trio—Hammer, Baldy, or Short-legged Candlestick?"

Bitterness filled Baron Brignais's mouth at Lumian's question. For a brief moment, he couldn't bring himself to order Lumian to leave.

He had made two plans in preparation for the potential revenge from the Poison Spur Mob. He was confident that he would remain unscathed.

Wouldn't it be a fortuitous outcome if "Giant" Simon and "Rat" Christo met their end?

But the predicament lay in the fact that he hadn't had enough time to implement any of his plans or set them into motion!

His intention was to dispatch the intelligence and weaponry to Auberge du Coq Doré tomorrow morning, and only then would he decide on the course of action. Nonetheless, eliminating any leader of the Poison Spur Mob was no easy feat. It would likely require days of meticulous effort before he could even set foot inside their domain.

Yet, Lumian Lee, that madman, had sought out "Hammer" Ait without delay upon accepting the mission. He wasted no time, conducted no reconnaissance, made no arrangements, and didn't wait for the opportune moment to arise.

What further infuriated the baron was that the fellow had actually succeeded! In a matter of hours, he had slain "Hammer" Ait and dragged the lifeless body to Salle de Bal Brise!

F*ck, is he even human?

This caught him off guard. If "Black Scorpion" Roger were to strike, he might meet his demise alongside "Hammer" Ait.

Observing Baron Brignais's silence and darkened expression, Lumian inwardly chuckled.

He had brought "Hammer" Ait's body to Salle de Bal Brise and presented it to Baron Brignais not to boast or intimidate the gang leader and his henchmen.

His intention was to draw "Black Scorpion" Roger and the other formidable members of the Poison Spur Mob to them!

If Baron Brignais were to fall, a new opportunity would arise. A replacement with sufficient strength would be required. When the time came, Ciel, who could fight, contribute, and had aided Red Boots' lover, would undoubtedly be the most sought-after candidate!

Lumian wasn't overly concerned about whether "Black Scorpion" Roger would kill him.

Mr. K's finger was in his pocket!

Mr. K probably wouldn't mind if I repurposed the finger. After all, I'm doing it to fulfill his mission… Lumian thought casually.

Regardless, the threat from Susanna Mattise wouldn't come anytime soon. He could figure out an alternative approach later. Perhaps Mr. K would reward him with another finger once he saw how well and swiftly Lumian completed the mission?

Baron Brignais's expression underwent several changes. He pushed his chair back abruptly and hurried toward an iron-colored mechanical safe at the café bar counter.

He turned the knob and entered the password.

Lumian watched with a raised eyebrow, puzzled.

What was Baron Brignais planning to retrieve? Was he intending to take the cash and flee?

Or did he possess Sealed Artifacts that he dared not carry with him, fearing their potent negative effects, and had stowed them away in the safe?

Soon enough, Baron Brignais opened the safe and retrieved two bundles of detonators—commonly used in quarries.

Setting a trap to explode "Black Scorpion" Roger? That's quite challenging. He's a Heretic Spellmaster… Lumian refrained from inquiring as he observed Baron Brignais walk toward the wall near Avenue du Marché and push open two glass windows.

The leader of the Savoie Mob placed the bundles of detonators on the windowsill, then lit a match.

Subsequently, he ignited one of the bundles and glanced at the dimly lit Avenue du Marché. Raising his hand, he tossed the explosives into the middle of the road.

Louis and the other mobsters stood in bewilderment, unable to comprehend the baron's intentions.

Lumian's thoughts raced, and he instantly grasped the plan. He couldn't help but inwardly applaud, Very clever…

Boom!

The bundle of detonators exploded in the middle of Avenue du Marché, causing the surrounding glass to rattle.

The few pedestrians on the roadside were startled and fell to the ground, sustaining minor injuries. Some screamed, covering their ears, and frantically sought shelter in nearby locations.

Baron Brignais glanced over, lit another bundle of detonators, and hurled it into the deserted road. Causing casualties would be troublesome aftermath. He didn't wish to attract unwanted attention from authorities.

Boom!

The explosion reverberated once more. The police headquarters on Avenue du Marché, the Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral, and the God of Steam and Machinery cathedral responded to a certain extent.

Salle de Bal Brise and the occupants of nearby buildings were thrown into disarray, but they dared not venture outside.

Baron Brignais clapped his hands and returned to the wooden table. He pulled a chair over and sat down.

Resuming his usual demeanor, he smiled at Lumian.

"It's all right now."

This would surely unsettle the police and the clergymen. Some would undoubtedly investigate the cause. It was highly probable that official Beyonders would be among them.

Officers who maintained good relations with the Savoie Mob would inevitably inquire.

Under such circumstances, how could "Black Scorpion" Roger dare to launch an attack?

They couldn't risk assuming that no official Beyonders would care about the explosion. After all, if they lost that bet, they would be doomed!

Lumian hadn't expected Baron Brignais to find a way to elude "Black Scorpion" Roger's assault in such a short span of time. And he had accomplished it using only the resources at hand.

This had momentarily foiled his plan.

True to the reputation of the Savoie Mob's 'brain,' Baron Brignais displays remarkable responsiveness and quick thinking, surpassing even Margot, "Hammer" Ait, and the others in critical moments. Lumian clicked his tongue in acknowledgment, paying no mind to Hammer's lifeless body on the ground. Taking a seat across from Baron Brignais, he flashed a smile.

"I made the wise choice to seek refuge here."

Baron Brignais nearly choked, his saliva catching in his throat.

Had it not been for his exceptional intellect, he might have been ensnared and faced a grave fate!

Exhaling slowly, Baron Brignais cast a glance at the motionless corpse and addressed Louis and the rest, "Drag it into a private room and conceal it carefully. The authorities will likely come knocking soon."

-x-X-x-

After concealing the body, Baron Brignais nonchalantly addressed Lumian, his curiosity piqued.

"I must say, I'm quite intrigued. How did you manage to eliminate 'Hammer' Ait?"

Lumian didn't hold back, revealing everything. He retrieved an empty metal canister and placed it on the table before him.

"What's this?" Baron Brignais examined it carefully for a few moments.

"Remember when I ventured underground earlier today?" Lumian grinned. "I encountered a deviant individual and, quite accidentally, dispatched him. He happened to possess this gaseous sedative and its corresponding antidote."

"After infiltrating 'Hammer' Ait's washroom, I consumed the antidote and patiently awaited his arrival. When he entered, I unscrewed the sedative and engaged him in close combat. I restrained him, preventing his escape until the sedative took effect."

Baron Brignais pondered for a brief moment, confirming the plausibility of this plan. Satisfied, he nodded and remarked, "The washroom is rather confined, and the gaseous sedative will quickly permeate the space. Moreover, there's no ventilation to speak of. Considering 'Hammer' Ait's cautious nature and his guard against our Savoie Mob, he wouldn't offer an easy opportunity for infiltration."

"The gunmen stationed outside wouldn't dare to open fire, lest they accidentally eliminate 'Hammer' Ait. They might even struggle to unlock the restroom door."

Baron Brignais spoke with such conviction that it seemed he had witnessed the scene firsthand.

Louis and the others silently acknowledged the validity of this analysis.

Having understood the intricacies, they realized that Ciel's ability to dispatch "Hammer" Ait within such a short span of time wasn't as implausible as they had initially thought.

Ciel had indeed discovered a path to success and skillfully utilized the resources at his disposal.

Under this plan, as long as his combat prowess didn't significantly pale in comparison to "Hammer" Ait's, he had a considerable chance of dealing with the traitor.

Naturally, achieving success necessitated strength, a stroke of luck, decisiveness, audacity, and adeptness in gathering intelligence.

Ciel's terror was undeniable, yet it wasn't as horrifying as they had envisioned.

Baron Brignais further commended Lumian's sagacity, albeit slightly displeased that he had transported "Hammer" Ait's lifeless body to Salle de Bal Brise after accomplishing the deed. It had nearly brought calamity upon him.

Nevertheless, Baron Brignais harbored no intention of reprimanding him.

Upon reflection, he realized that the fault lay primarily with himself.

It seems I habitually exude an excessive air of confidence and intellect. As if nothing can perplex me. No wonder he assumes that I can provide ample protection and remain unafraid of 'Black Scorpion' Roger.

I even proposed this operation. It's only natural for him to believe that I've already made all necessary preparations.

As they conversed, time slipped away. Before long, a guard from the Savoie Mob stationed at the entrance on the first floor ascended and approached Baron Brignais, conveying a message.

"Please, bring him up." Baron Brignais stood and made his way toward the staircase.

Travis Everett served as the superintendent at the police headquarters of Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman. He held one of the highest positions when it came to carrying out tasks. Above him stood a few deputy directors with the rank of chief superintendent, and overseeing everything was the police commissioner of the district.

Baron Brignais enjoyed conversing with Everett. Emperor Roselle's words described him as the epitome of a "Mr. Nice Guy." He preferred not to delve into the truth, simply hoping for harmonious interactions and a lack of trouble. He possessed a remarkable ability to resolve conflicts between the mobs in the market district.

Ten seconds later, the officer led his two subordinates into the café on the second floor.

Travis Everett appeared to be around 30 years old and stood nearly 1.75 meters tall. His black hair was cropped short, and he wore glasses with relatively large black frames that framed his blue eyes. His chin was slightly broad.

Dressed in a black police uniform, his epaulets showcased five-petaled irises in silver-white against the black background. This indicated his rank as a superintendent. If there were seven petals, he would hold the rank of chief superintendent, and above that, an off-white diamond square.

Travis Everett looked at the smiling Baron Brignais and asked with a stern expression, "What just happened? Please don't tell me there was an explosion at the entrance of Salle de Bal Brise, and you have no idea who did it!"

"Monsieur Superintendent, please have a seat." Baron Brignais guided Travis Everett to a wooden table and personally pulled out a chair for him.

Lumian, disguising himself as one of the thugs alongside Louis and the others, stood behind Baron Brignais, avoiding direct confrontation with the officers to prevent recognition as a wanted criminal.

Baron Brignais picked up his mahogany pipe and gazed at Travis Everett across from him. With a grave expression, he spoke, "'Hammer' Ait is dead. I was concerned that 'Black Scorpion' Roger would go into a frenzy, so I detonated the explosives and drew everyone's attention. Rest assured, Monsieur Superintendent, I carefully chose the location of the blast. I didn't harm or seriously injure anyone."

Travis Everett raised his right hand, adjusted his black-framed glasses, and pointed at Baron Brignais.

"Can you all refrain from causing so much trouble? The parliamentary election is taking place next week. Do you want us to embarrass ourselves in front of our future superior?

"I don't care about your intentions, nor do I wish to know your motives. All I desire is a peaceful market district.

"If something similar occurs again, I will propose to Monsieur Aymerck that Bureau 8 and the two Churches form a joint investigative team to handle your Savoie Mob!"

Aymerck served as one of Trier's police commissioners, overseeing Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

Travis Everett did not mention the death of "Hammer" Ait directly, but he employed it as a warning to Baron Brignais.

Baron Brignais responded with a smile, "Monsieur Superintendent, fear not. For the next two weeks, we shall strictly adhere to the law. I am merely concerned about the Poison Spur Mob…"

Travis Everett nodded and let out a sigh.

"Emperor Roselle proclaimed that peace brings prosperity. If you do encounter any disputes, you can seek me out for a tribunal."

He then turned to the two lower-ranking officers beside him and said, "Let us return now and find someone to keep a close watch on the leaders of the Poison Spur Mob. We must ensure they behave."

The superintendent rose from his seat and extended his arms.

"Praise the Sun!"

"Praise the Sun!" Baron Brignais also stood up, echoing the sentiment.

As Travis Everett and his companions descended the stairs, Lumian muttered quietly to himself, Do people in positions of power always enjoy quoting Emperor Roselle? We lower-class individuals are different. We curse and use crude language as needed. The sense of a sentence doesn't depend on who utters it…

Nearly half an hour later, Baron Brignais turned to Lumian and spoke, "'Black Scorpion' Roger and the others should be under surveillance. There is no immediate danger.

"You may return to Auberge du Coq Doré to rest now. Come here at 10:30 a.m. tomorrow. I will take you to meet the boss."

"Alright," Lumian replied with a smile. "Thank you, Baron."

He then inquired, "According to the rules, since I was the one who killed 'Hammer' Ait, all his belongings belong to me, correct?"

"That is correct," Baron Brignais confirmed, displaying a generous nature when it came to such matters.

He motioned for Louis to bring over the black revolver, bullet bag, bayonet, and stack of intelligence.

"These are yours as well."

Lumian fastened the holster under his left armpit and stowed away the other items before entering the room where "Hammer" Ait's lifeless body lay.

Ensuring no one was tailing him, he squatted down and unbuttoned the corpse's shirt.

There, he discovered a golden-red ball resembling the morning clouds and sunset, with a faint flickering light dancing within.

This was a Pugilist Beyonder characteristic!

Lumian happily pocketed it and proceeded to search "Hammer" Ait's pockets. He found 116 verl d'or and 17 coppet notes and coins, along with a pair of boxing gloves made of steel-like material, adorned with several sharp spikes.

For Lumian, this bounty far exceeded the satisfaction of hunting Margot.

On his way back to Auberge du Coq Doré, only sporadic gas street lamps illuminated the path. Lumian weaved through the intersecting shadows, sensing pairs of eyes fixated on him.

Is 'Black Scorpion' Roger commanding the deceased or using other Beyonder abilities to keep tabs on me? Or am I simply being overly vigilant and imagining things? Lumian muttered, raising his right hand to massage his temples.

He activated his Spirit Vision but found nothing amiss.

The unsettling feeling of being watched gradually faded away.

…

In the three-story building with a garden at 126 Avenue du Marché.

The imposing "Black Scorpion" Roger, with his piercing deep-blue eyes, and the charming "Baldy" Harman walked back through the door.

The ten members of the Poison Spur Mob, who had been waiting anxiously, felt the air grow tense and their fear heightened. None of them dared to utter a word, as if they were facing an impending storm.

After a tense silence that lasted for more than ten seconds, "Baldy" Harman gritted his teeth and spoke up,

"That Ciel doesn't take us seriously. The Savoie Mob has been provoking us repeatedly. They must pay the price!"

"Black Scorpion" Roger shared Harman's sentiment, feeling equally provoked by Ciel. He spoke in a low, commanding voice,

"We cannot let this matter go unaddressed!"

Phew… Roger exhaled heavily and motioned for the other members of the Poison Spur Mob to leave.

Only Harman remained, and Roger continued, "But we are being targeted by the police. It is highly likely that official Beyonders will be involved. We cannot seek revenge for the time being.

"Brignais is no ordinary opponent. He is cunning and intelligent.

"When Monsieur Artois is elected to parliament, Madame Moon will grant us a new boon. At that time, I will extract Brignais's brain and feed it to the stray dogs!

"However, we cannot remain idle. When the surveillance on us becomes less vigilant, I will seize the opportunity to assassinate Ciel!

"If the Savoie Mob can assassinate our men, then we can do the same to theirs!"

…

At Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian had just reached Room 207 when he sensed something. He turned his head and directed his gaze towards the nearby balcony.

"Come out," he said with a resigned sigh. "Madame Jenna."

-x-X-x-

With her hair tied up in a simple bun, Showy Diva emerged from the shadows of the balcony, her eyes adorned with dark shadows and a mole positioned neatly on her nose.

Curiosity evident in her voice, she asked, "How did you discover me? How did you know it was me?"

Being an Assassin, she had mastered the art of utilizing darkness and shadows to conceal her presence. Until now, no one had ever detected her in her previous encounters, making this the first time she had been discovered.

Lumian scoffed in response.

"Next time you plan on assassinating someone, remember not to wear perfume."

After reminding Jenna, he jokingly pointed towards the door of Room 207 and said, "I thought you would enter the room yourself, but instead, you waited so politely on the balcony. It's unlike you."

"Dammit, I've always been polite!" Jenna retorted, feeling a hint of anger at the accusation.

After a brief pause, she muttered, "You're cold, sinister, cunning, and devious. You might have set a trap in the room, waiting for someone to walk into it."

While speaking, Jenna glanced at Lumian and indignantly said, "I understand how you guessed that I'm an Assassin!

"First, you connected the dots from the perfect infiltration route I provided. Then, you deliberately probed me. F*ck, if I had been calmer, you would have said, 'Haha, I'm joking.'"

"Madame Jenna, your reflex arc is a little long," Lumian laughed.

"What 'Madame' or 'Miss.' You're not one to be polite either. Just call me Jenna," she controlled her urge to curse and curiously asked, "What's a reflex arc?"

She had a feeling it wasn't something favorable, but she couldn't quite grasp its meaning.

Miss, did you complete your compulsory education? Lumian criticized. As he opened the door, he casually explained, "For instance, you, Franca, Baron Brignais, and 'Hammer' Ait hear me telling a joke simultaneously. Franca and Baron Brignais burst into laughter instantly, but it takes you a whole day to find me and say, 'Haha, how funny.'"

"Dammit! You bastard!" Jenna finally realized she had been mocked.

Following Lumian into Room 207, she asked in confusion, "What about 'Hammer' Ait? Why isn't he laughing?"

Lumian turned his head and solemnly glanced at her.

"Dead people don't laugh."

Jenna was momentarily taken aback before she burst into laughter, her body swaying slightly.

"You, haha, you truly have a sense of humor…" She intermittently expressed amidst her laughter.

Lumian ignited the carbide lamp in the room and settled on the edge of the bed. He inquired, "What brings you to Auberge du Coq Doré?"

"I've come to retrieve my gun!" Jenna shut the door behind her and dragged over the old, worn armchair. Placing it in front of her, she sat down, resting her elbows on the backrest.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity she couldn't conceal.

"But don't tell me how you did it just yet. Let me take a guess.

"You… asked me about the size of the washroom. That means you intended to exploit the environment there.

"F*ck! I've got it, I've got it! You have that pervert's sedative on hand. It's perfect for a place like the washroom. It's like trapping a pigeon!

"Dammit, I can imagine 'Hammer' Ait's desperate expression as he struggled, realizing his strength was dwindling. The thugs outside couldn't enter, and they didn't dare to shoot randomly…"

The more Jenna spoke, the more animated she became, as if she were the one who had carried out the assassination of "Hammer" Ait.

"At least you have some wits about you," Lumian begrudgingly acknowledged.

"Heh!" Jenna waved her hand and peered at Lumian. "What I can't figure out is why you weren't affected by the sedative. Did you smell that bottle of 'shit' beforehand? Can its effects last that long?"

Lumian simply smiled.

"I recall something you once said. Avoid seeing what I shouldn't, hearing what I shouldn't, and asking questions I shouldn't."

"…" Jenna glared at Lumian in frustration and refrained from further probing.

Lumian produced her compact revolver and tossed it to her.

Jenna caught it deftly and let out a chuckle.

"You didn't even dare to come up to me and return it in person?"

She smacked her lips and clicked her tongue.

"Is there something about me that frightens you?"

In that moment, she felt as if she had returned to teasing Lumian when they first met.

Lumian appraised her.

"You're quite audacious to enter a male stranger's room dressed like this in the middle of the night."

Jenna was dressed as she typically would for her evening performances. Her white blouse revealed a generous amount of her chest, and her off-white fluffy short skirt didn't provide much coverage as her legs spread on either side of the backrest.

Jenna deliberately covered her mouth and let out a soft chuckle.

"I was defenseless down in the underground, yet you didn't make a move, let alone now.

"Do you still hold onto your virginity? Need some help? A mature and beautiful sister can show you the wonders of the adult world."

As she spoke, she intentionally lowered her body, revealing her cleavage to Lumian.

Lumian didn't flinch and observed calmly.

Who would be frightened by such a thing?

Jenna's expectation of a fleeting gaze and a flushed expression from Lumian gradually transformed into discomfort.

She sat up straight and muttered, "Lame, coward…"

In the next instant, Lumian stood up abruptly.

Jenna's expression underwent a sudden change.

"What are you planning to do?"

Lumian's lips curled into a smirk as he turned toward the wooden table.

"Just pouring some light beer. Fancy a glass?"

Auberge du Coq Doré didn't offer the option of boiling water. The tenants either drank tap water or resorted to light beer as a substitute.

"…No, thanks." Jenna let out a relieved sigh.

Lumian took a few swigs of light beer and redirected the conversation.

"How can you be so certain that you're older than me?"

"I saw your wanted poster at Franca's. Well, hello there, Lumian. You're not even 18 yet, while I've already reached 21!" Jenna's satisfaction started to surface.

"Is your mental age only 12?" Lumian taunted before inquiring, "How did you come to know the infiltration route to that room?"

Franca had long harbored the desire to carry out an assassination against the Poison Spur Mob?

Jenna pursed her lips and replied, "I've been gathering intelligence for nearly a month, awaiting the perfect opportunity to assassinate Margot. But you beat me to it."

Margot had previously overseen the Salle de Gristmill.

"Do you hold a grudge against Margot?" Lumian asked.

"He didn't do anything to me." Jenna lowered her gaze slightly. "When I first arrived in the market district, searching for singing opportunities in various dance halls, I encountered another Showy Diva singer. She was a few years older than me and took me under her wing. She even helped refine my singing and guided me towards a chance to perform. Over a month ago, Margot violated her. F*cking dammit, did he think all Showy Divas were open for his taking? Afterwards, she left the market district. I later heard she was committed to an asylum…

"That was when I pleaded with Franca to obtain Beyonder powers and assist her."

Lumian fell silent for a few moments before speaking again.

"You see, one mustn't hesitate. When I made up my mind to kill Margot that morning, I carried out the deed that very night."

Jenna found herself both enraged and entertained.

"Well, everyone has their own style!"

Lumian changed the subject.

"Tomorrow morning, Baron Brignais will take me to meet the Boss. Do you have any insights on what kind of person he is?"

Jenna pondered for a moment before responding.

"I've never met him personally, but I've heard Franca mention a few things.

"He resides in Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative. He's a bit of a pervert and has a fondness for women, but he's not twisted. His tastes are quite f*cking normal, and every one of his partners matches Franca's preferences.

"He's a merchant by trade. He owns a depot near the steam locomotive station and holds significant shares in the nearby Rist docks. He also runs a freight company and a construction firm, providing employment opportunities for many Savoyards.

"You might not know this, but when the Poison Spur Mob first gained power, they had a major conflict with the Savoie Mob. All the laborers from the depot and the dock workers took to the streets. It was like a protest!"

A considerable number of people. If armed, they could form an army… Lumian motioned for Jenna to continue.

Jenna pulled her collar up slightly.

"Franca mentioned that he's quite amiable, even with common laborers. Don't be deceived by his appearance. His goal is to make others drop their guard around him.

He's cunning and highly intelligent. He enjoys playing mind games with others. Don't provoke him, or Franca won't be able to protect you.

"He wields significant power. It seems he's adept at fire manipulation and possesses some mystical artifact."

Adept at fire manipulation… A Sequence 7 Pyromaniac of the Hunter pathway? No, Franca mentioned that he's incredibly powerful, and Franca is likely a Sequence 7 Witch of the Demoness pathway. If she made such an assessment, it's probable that the boss of the Savoie Mob is more than just a Sequence 7…

The Poison Spur Mob's "Black Scorpion" Roger is the boss with a boon equivalent to a Sequence 7. A Heretic Spellmaster might not necessarily defeat a Witch. Franca could easily be a mob boss herself, yet she willingly becomes this person's mistress. I wonder if she has ulterior motives or if his strength and background truly surpass Franca's? Lumian's thoughts raced as he analyzed the situation.

Jenna stood up.

"You better dress like a man tomorrow. Don't be like Baron Brignais. The Boss prefers aggressive subordinates who resemble wolfdogs."

"Is that so…" Lumian scoffed. "I'm afraid I'll appear overly aggressive."

Jenna rolled her eyes.

"That's right. You saved my life, yet there are times when I can't help but want to slap you!

"Anyway, don't go too far."

She reattached her holster to her calf and headed towards the door, yawning openly.

"I'm heading back now. Sigh, I won't be able to perform at the Salle de Gristmill for the time being.

"Why do you still live in such a lousy room?"

Although her own accommodations weren't great either, they were still much better than Auberge du Coq Doré.

Lumian smirked once again.

"This is my turf."

"Heh!" Jenna didn't say anything further. She entered the dimly lit corridor and vanished from sight.

Lumian freshened up and settled into bed. Thoughts of meeting the boss of the Savoie Mob the next day gradually lulled him into sleep.

-x-X-x-