192 Verification
Boss? Lumian was alarmed. He hadn’t anticipated the connection to Gardner Martin, but now things were starting to make sense.
Why did the smuggling caravan vanish on a known route that had been used before?
And why was “Rat” Christo so eager to seek their help? If he had only lost a shipment, he would have made more confirmations. It would have taken time for him to reveal his vulnerabilities and mistakes to his peers, who might be eyeing his position.
Lumian’s mind raced with thoughts.
Gardner Martin might be a Sequence 6 or 5 on the Hunter pathway.
Both Franca and I entered the special mirror world, and we’re a Hunter and a Demoness, respectively, on similar and neighboring paths.
Mr. K instructed me to approach Gardner Martin and gain his trust.
Franca, as a member of the secret organization Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, has quite a high Sequence. It’s surprising that she’s willing to be the mistress of a mob boss like Gardner Martin.
The boss of the Savoie Mob must be hiding a major secret or involved in something significant…
Why does he want Christo to smuggle an item related to the Hunter or Demoness pathway into Trier? And why go through the risks of underground smuggling? Is he afraid of the tax collectors? Instead, why doesn’t the boss retrieve the item himself outside the city and have Christo get a smuggler lead the way? It would be safer and more discreet. Could it be that he knows the item might cause trouble and wants to avoid the risk? Lumian shifted his gaze from “Rat” Christo to Franca’s face.
To Lumian’s surprise, the Witch seemed unprepared for such an answer. Her initial shock was swiftly followed by a hint of excitement and joy.
She stared intently at “Rat” Christo and sneered, “Are you trying to f*cking deceive me? How come I haven’t heard about Gardner asking you to bring something into Trier? Where is that thing?”
Excitement… Joy… Lumian grew increasingly certain that Franca had ulterior motives for joining the Savoie Mob and approaching Gardner Martin.
Christo forced a smile and responded, “It’s in an iron box. I’ve already sent it to Rue des Fontaines. Perhaps the boss hasn’t informed you yet.”
As a seasoned member of the Savoie Mob, he knew the power Franca possessed. She could easily dispatch him, especially since he wasn’t prepared and hadn’t brought any assistance. Moreover, she excelled in divination and could detect falsehoods.
“You better not be lying to me!” Franca recoiled, produced her makeup mirror, and began performing a divination in front of “Rat” Christo.
Lumian cooperatively stood up and walked to Christo’s side. He reached out and firmly grasped Christo’s shoulder.
Once Franca confirmed the truth through her divination, Lumian patted the “Rat” on the back with a smile.
“If anything similar happens in the future, make sure to remind me of any potential issues with the merchandise. I must be prepared for any unexpected incidents.
“Otherwise, I might just chop you into pieces and feed you to your beloved kids.”
He had heard from Louis that “Rat” Christo had numerous pets and had a special fondness for dogs.
Fueled by the threat, Christo grew angry.
Franca may be the boss’s mistress, and she’s stronger than me. I can tolerate her treatment, but what right does a newbie like you have?
“The boss asked me to keep it a secret this time.”
Franca stowed away her makeup box and cursed, “You son of a bitch! You could have at least given us a clue!”
Christo sheepishly smiled and replied, “Alright, alright.”
Surprisingly, he wasn’t at all offended by the insults. To him, dogs were cherished family members, so how could their mention be taken as an offense?
He often warned his lecherous subordinates that laying a hand on his wife was akin to touching his dog!
Observing Franca and Ciel’s softened attitudes, Christo curiously asked, “Is that strange world really as Erkin described?”
Before Franca could respond, Lumian patted Christo’s shoulder with a smile.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? Has a dog eaten your brain? We were just bluffing you!
“We didn’t enter any strange world at all. We simply suspected something was amiss with your goods, considering the previous smooth smuggling operations and the sudden involvement of a Beyonder incident. So, we decided to deceive you!”
“…” “Rat” Christo couldn’t help but feel vexed.
Indeed, if Franca and Ciel had truly entered a strange world, they wouldn’t have returned so swiftly!
Erkin and the others had been missing for hours!
How could he have been so foolish?
Why did he fall for their ruse?
Suppressing his emotions, Christo looked at Franca with a fawning smile.
“Please don’t tell the boss that I revealed the existence of that item. He will not be pleased with me.”
Franca cast a strange glance at Lumian and said to “Rat” Christo, “Fine. From now on, you owe me a favor.”
“Alright!” Christo hastily agreed.
After bidding farewell to the leader of the smuggling operation, Lumian and Franca exited the warehouse and turned onto the narrow street of Avenue du Marché.
“I realized today that Christo is a complete fool. He’s incredibly gullible,” Franca remarked, breaking the silence as she glanced at Lumian beside her. There was a hint of a smile on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re quite skilled at deceiving others.”
Lumian assumed a composed demeanor.
“In Cordu, you must have heard about Cordu, right? They call me the Prankster King.”
Franca, familiar with Cordu due to the wanted poster, smiled at Lumian and responded,
“Did you lie to me earlier then? Heh heh, Jenna’s assessment of you wasn’t entirely off. You possess cunning and trickery.”
“You’re my sister’s companion. I’ve been telling you the truth,” Lumian said sincerely, maintaining an honest expression.
However, he didn’t divulge the complete truth. Even if Franca were to confirm it through divination, she wouldn’t detect any signs of deception.
Franca observed his expression and nodded in satisfaction.
“I am willing to trust Muggle’s brother. Hmm… Let’s pretend you don’t know about Gardner’s item. There are certain things that can be harmful if you were to uncover the truth. I won’t inquire about it either.”
“Alright,” Lumian acquiesced, obediently playing the role he had assumed in front of Aurore.
The two then went their separate ways on Avenue du Marché. One headed towards Salle de Bal Brise, while the other turned onto Rue des Blouses Blanches.
It was already past 8 p.m., and the sky had darkened. Gas wall lamps embedded in the walls illuminated the dance hall, casting a yellowish glow on the entire first floor. As they approached the dance floor, the ambiance grew dimmer.
Amidst greetings, Lumian took a seat at the bar counter and ordered a glass of fennel and mint absinthe, known as Parrot.
The drink was rather invigorating, and with just one sip, it cleared his mind as if he had been slapped awake.
Lumian sat for a while, enjoying Jenna’s risqué songs. Eventually, he noticed Charlie approaching the bar counter with a tray in hand.
“Ciel… Boss!” Charlie swiftly altered the way he addressed Lumian upon realizing it was the bartender looking at him.
Lumian took a sip of the psychedelic green liquid and asked with a smile,
“Do you prefer the dance hall or the underground bar in the motel?”
Charlie glanced at the bartender and the other waiters before lowering his voice.
“I still prefer the motel bar. Over there, I’m the center of attention!”
I can tell… Lumian chuckled and nodded towards the young female singer who had taken over from Jenna.
“Is she your friend’s daughter?”
Charlie had previously mentioned a friend who had fallen victim to a loan shark. Pressured by Baron Brignais, the friend tragically committed suicide by jumping off a building, and now his daughter was forced to sing at Salle de Bal Brise.
“Yes,” Charlie replied with a sorrowful expression.
The female singer, dressed glamorously in a revealing blouse and skirt, was around Jenna’s age but lacked the same allure.
Upon closer observation, Lumian noticed the key distinction between the two:
Jenna’s eyes radiated a certain spark, whereas despite her fake smile, the light in the other singer’s eyes was absent.
Charlie opened his mouth, seemingly hesitant to ask for something, but in the end, he decided against it and remained silent.
Lumian took another sip of the Parrot and immersed himself in deep thought, the song playing in the background.
Approaching 10:30 p.m., he stood up and made his way back upstairs. He changed into a worn linen shirt, an old jacket, brown pants, and topped it off with a dark blue cap.
With this appearance, he resembled a vagabond.
Without hesitation, Lumian pushed open the window and leaped into the alley behind the dance hall.
His intention was to pay a visit to Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons.
His Prophecy Spell had revealed that Monsieur Ive, the landlord of Auberge du Coq Doré, would be present at Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons between 11 p.m. and 12 p.m. this Friday, i.e., tonight.
Lumian wasn’t expecting to confront the matter involving the evil god, the Mother Tree of Desire, single-handedly. He had no intention of facing them head-on. Instead, he aimed to gather valuable information and uncover more problems through observation.
To him, the most crucial objective was to utilize Monsieur Ive and the others to locate the place where Susanna Mattise had resided during her lifetime and obtain an item she had carried for a significant period. This would lay the groundwork for the Exorcism Spell when she eventually launched an attack.
Although completing the ritualistic magic in time might prove challenging, being prepared was preferable to being caught off guard.
After taking a few detours, Lumian arrived outside Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons.
Since it was not yet 11 p.m., he saw no need to rush inside. Instead, he found a corner and settled down, observing Monsieur Ive’s beige six-story apartment with the demeanor of a genuine tramp.
Before long, Lumian spotted the landlord.
Monsieur Ive returned from Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman, holding a black cane. He wore a faded dark suit, chestnut pants, and an aged half top hat.
A few minutes later, a dim light emanated from one of the windows of his apartment.
Lumian patiently waited.
As he waited, his brow gradually furrowed.
Why hasn’t Monsieur Ive made his way to Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons? It’s already past 11 p.m.
The window continued to emit a yellowish glow, and occasional figures passed by.
Fifteen minutes elapsed, yet Monsieur Ive had not left his apartment, crossed Avenue du Marché, and entered Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons.
Lumian couldn’t help but mutter to himself, Could there be an error in my Prophecy Spell?