191 Suspicions
Right hand… Franca’s body jolted with a sudden shudder.
As a Witch, she was well-acquainted with the intricacies of mirrors, attuned to their peculiarities. And one thing she knew for certain was this: when a person gazed into a mirror, their reflection would be inverted from left to right.
The situation at hand was baffling. After Erkin, who habitually favored his right hand, had ventured into the enigmatic mirror world and returned, he had inexplicably switched to using his left hand. Franca and Lumian, however, had not experienced such a change.
What could this mean? Franca trembled with unease.
Just then, Christo reappeared at the warehouse’s bottom floor, bellowing instructions to Erkin on the upper level. He demanded that Erkin retrieve his prized White Elixir wine. Seizing the opportunity, Lumian leaned in close to Franca and whispered into her ear,
“Have you noticed any connections?”
“You’ve thought of it too?” Franca replied, taken aback.
It was a challenge to detect Erkin’s abnormality and grasp the underlying possibilities without extensive knowledge of mysticism and encounters with the Beyonder world.
Lumian continued in a hushed tone, “Judging by the amount of blood present in that space, I find it hard to believe that a regular person could have survived. From the start, I suspected something was amiss with Erkin and the other members of the caravan.
“Furthermore, you mentioned that the peculiar mirror world contains your past self—the reflection of who you once were.
“A mirrored image is left-right reversed in reality.
“Do you think the Erkin in the mirror has replaced the original Erkin?”
Franca fell into silence, pondering the implications.
“I dread to consider such a horrifying possibility, but the circumstances align more and more with your theory.
“I need to be certain.”
As they conversed, Erkin descended from the warehouse’s upper level, clutching a sack filled with various spices and two bottles of White Elixir wine. He made his way towards a nearby grayish-white, two-story building.
The structure served as a dining room and kitchen for “Rat” Christo’s subordinates.
On the surface, Christo presented himself as a merchant. He owned multiple companies specializing in trade and providing storage facilities.
Franca approached Christo with a solemn expression and asked, “Are you absolutely sure that is truly Erkin?”
Christo blurted out in surprise, “Why are you asking such a peculiar question? Of course, it’s Erkin. By Steam, how could I not recognize my own brother?
“My kids are also quite fond of him. They find nothing unfamiliar about him.”
Franca pondered for a moment before smiling faintly.
“I can’t help but feel that something might go awry after venturing into that bizarre realm.”
Franca chuckled.
“You’re not a Beyonder yet. Before you took over this smuggling business, didn’t you anticipate that those above you would follow certain customs and pay extra for particular matters?”
Christo fell silent, uncertain of how to respond.
Franca then said, “I’ll help you confirm whether anything is amiss with those individuals.”
Franca retrieved her makeup box and Erkin’s handkerchief, preparing to perform a divination in front of “Rat” Christo.
“Erkin’s whereabouts. Erkin’s whereabouts…”
As Franca chanted in Hermes, her eyes darkened, and she gently caressed the surface of the makeup mirror.
Lumian observed as the mirror shimmered with watery ripples of light.
Soon, a scene materialized within its depths: Erkin, dressed in a blue shirt, stood near the kitchen, engaged in conversation with the chef.
“I knew everything would go smoothly.” “Rat” Christo chuckled.
He then gestured towards the warehouse.
“I have some matters to attend to. You can explore the area on your own or wait for me in the dining room.”
Once the short-statured leader of the smugglers had entered the warehouse, Lumian turned to Franca.
“It appears that the real Erkin might be dead.”
Thus, the divination results indicated the person who originally belonged to the mirror world.
“Do you still think something is amiss with Erkin and the others?” Franca furrowed her brow.
“And if not?” Lumian laughed. “Should we cover our eyes and ears and pretend we didn’t see, hear, or discover anything?”
Franca pondered for a moment before responding, “Perhaps, because I’m using mirror divination, it will be easier to pinpoint the individual within the mirror. I shall attempt another method.”
Surveying the warehouse area, she picked up a short wooden stick and held it before her, pressing down from the top.
After uttering a similar divination statement, the wooden stick snapped, pointing directly at the grayish-white, two-story building that housed the kitchen and dining room.
Erkin was there.
Franca fell silent momentarily before declaring, “Let me see if that mirror can be of any assistance.”
She referred to the classic-styled silver mirror that served as a gateway to the peculiar realm, hoping to employ it in banishing all the monsters that had emerged from within.
Lumian eagerly trailed behind Franca as they entered the dining room.
Their eyes were immediately drawn to a woman wearing a grayish-green dress. She appeared to be in her late twenties, holding the hands of a boy and a girl. Tears of joy streamed down her face as she embraced Erkin, who had just emerged from the kitchen.
“You’re finally back!”
“Pépé!”
“Pépé, play with me!”
Amidst the clamor of excited voices, Erkin’s face radiated sheer happiness. His brows and eyes reflected pure joy.
“…” Franca paused in her steps, silently observing the heartwarming family reunion for a long while.
Eventually, she let out a sigh and remarked, “Let’s give it a little more time.”
Lumian maintained his smile.
“Are you finding it hard to bear?”
Franca sighed.
“The real Erkin might already be dead. After all, this is his reflection.
“If I were to expose his true nature now, kill him, or force him back into the mirror, not only would his wife and children fail to show gratitude, but they would also despise me.”
“You’re right.” Lumian chuckled. “In any case, if anything untoward happens in the future, whether someone lives or dies is not our concern. We simply need to exercise caution. Why should we appear as the ‘villains’? No one will thank you for it. Yes, let’s avoid ‘Rat’ Christo and the others for the time being. If we don’t encounter them, it’s as if nothing has occurred.”
Franca’s inner conflict grew.
She didn’t know what the mirror’s reflection would do after replacing the person in reality.
What if his kindness morphed into cruelty, and his affection transformed into hatred?
Franca, unable to reach a decision, could only gaze at Lumian and sigh. “Your words are rather cold-hearted…”
She began to think that Jenna’s assessment of Ciel held some truth.
“Madame, am I not merely following your inclinations to help you convince yourself?” Lumian responded, a mix of annoyance and amusement evident in his tone.
Franca offered a sheepish smile.
“How do you propose we handle this situation?”
Lumian glanced at Erkin, who was recounting his strange encounter to his wife and children as if it were someone else’s story.
“We should have someone write a letter and report this matter to the police headquarters or a cathedral.
“The letter should merely state that ‘Rat’ Christo’s brother, Erkin, ventured into an underground realm with a group of individuals and remained absent for the majority of the day. Upon resurfacing, their dominant hand had changed.
“Official Beyonders have encountered numerous anomalies, so they should be familiar with the underground. They will likely deduce what has befallen Erkin and his companions.
“As for how they handle it, that’s their responsibility. We need not worry. If they refrain from harming Erkin and the others, the mirror person poses no threat. They can serve as replacements for the deceased originals. And if those monsters are eliminated, we won’t have to confront pain and animosity, let alone compensate anyone.
“In short, we must trust the officials and the Church.
“Emperor Roselle once mentioned that a gentleman wouldn’t feel inclined to dine on an animal they were familiar with after it had been slaughtered. However, if they remained unaware, it wouldn’t be an issue. They could enjoy their meal blissfully. The same principle applies in this case.”
Lumian couldn’t recall the exact words, so he did his best to convey the sentiment in his own words.
Franca pondered deeply for a few moments before being convinced.
“You’re right…”
She glanced at Lumian.
“You don’t sound like a mob leader at all.”
“A true mob leader knows how to manipulate the authorities.” Lumian grinned.
Franca chuckled and remarked, “Do I have to address you as ‘Godfather’ from now on?”
Without giving Lumian a chance to inquire further, she swiftly added, “A mob’s godfather. Yes, for now, you don’t have the means. I’ll take responsibility for leaking the information to the officials.”
Mob’s godfather… Lumian had heard his sister mention this as the subject of her next book. He grasped the general idea, but couldn’t help feeling a tad disheartened.
In the ensuing hours, he and Franca joyously attended a banquet hosted by “Rat” Christo, engaging in lively conversations with Erkin and the other smugglers.
Lumian couldn’t stop raving about the delectable Savoie roasted chicken. It was seasoned with an array of spices, its surface glistening with a similar concoction. The golden skin boasted juiciness, tenderness, and an aromatic essence.
He sliced a piece of the crispy skin-covered meat and let it soak in the succulent juices for a moment before savoring it. The experience was pure bliss, rendering it impossible for him to cease indulging.
As the banquet drew to a close, Franca noticed only a handful of people remained at the dining table. She turned to “Rat” Christo, a smile playing on her lips.
“Come closer. I have something to ask you.”
Christo, momentarily taken aback, shifted his chair nearer to Franca and responded with a smile, “And what’s the matter?”
Franca smiled and whispered, “In truth, Ciel and I also ventured into that peculiar world. Fortunately, we managed to escape…”
With that, she swiftly produced the roast chicken’s knife and drove it into the table in front of “Rat” Christo. Her voice turned icy as she interrogated him, “What’s concealed within that shipment? You nearly got us killed!”
“I-I don’t know!” Christo glanced around, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
Realizing that only he, Franca, and Cield remained at the table, he hastily explained, “I genuinely don’t know. The boss instructed me to bring it to Trier!”