447 Association and Speculation
Lumian’s body tensed, then he quickly relaxed.
“What’s the matter?” Anthony Reid inquired of Lumian.
Lumian chuckled. “Nothing.”
Franca, seated across from him, remarked, “Your smile and your responses always make me suspect you’re up to no good!”
Lumian’s lips curved into a smile.
“When you assume I’m up to no good, only to discover I haven’t done anything, could it be seen as a conspiracy?”
“Why does your sister always teach you such things?” Franca critiqued, sounding “severe.”
Jenna glanced at Lumian but didn’t press for more information. She remained on guard.
The four-wheeled rental carriage returned to Rue des Blouses Blanches in the market district. The team didn’t immediately go their separate ways. Following Lumian’s suggestion, they gathered in Franca’s apartment to discuss Bouvard’s “confession” and prophecy.
As Lumian closed the door, he suddenly spoke, “I need to use a bedroom.”
“Now?” Franca’s smile faded.
She sensed the seriousness in Lumian’s tone and, considering the earlier events, realized that something had indeed occurred.
“Yes,” Lumian replied, heading toward Franca’s bedroom and closing the door behind him.
Jenna, Franca, and Anthony Reid exchanged glances but remained standing. They each took positions beneath the glow of the gas wall lamp, neither too close nor too far from one another.
In just three to four minutes, Lumian reemerged from the master bedroom.
Franca peeked inside and noticed that the curtains in her bedroom were drawn.
Lumian surveyed the area and smiled before Franca could voice her question.
“Let me introduce you to a friend, but I need you to turn off the lamps first.”
“What friend? You’re acting all strange. You can’t even speak properly after becoming a Conspirer,” Franca muttered as she turned the knob valve at the bottom of the black gas wall lamp.
Jenna murmured, “He didn’t like to talk nicely before either. It always felt like a Provocation…”
Soon, the lamps were extinguished, plunging the living room into darkness. Only the crimson moonlight and dim starlight near the window provided some visibility.
Franca, experienced, asked thoughtfully, “Do we need to activate Spirit Vision?”
“I don’t think so…” Just as Lumian finished speaking, he saw a face reflected in the dark glass window.
The skin on the face was puffy, pale, and moist. The eyes were empty, save for two black holes that were dyed red!
Bouvard Pont-Péro’s vanished corpse reappeared!
Jenna, who had little experience with such situations, took a step back in fear, and black flames ignited in her palm.
“Has… has it been following us?” Franca had already taken out a mirror.
“That’s right,” Lumian said with a relaxed smile. “According to my observations, it only appears in a very dark environment. As for when it will attack us, I’m not sure yet.”
“Aren’t you worried or nervous? This thing is a severely corrupted mutated corpse. No one knows what terrifying abilities it possesses.” Franca was affected by Lumian’s relaxed attitude and didn’t rush to deal with Bouvard Pont-Péro’s corpse, which had its face pressed against the glass window.
Lumian chuckled.
“Shouldn’t you be happy to see an old friend again?”
He paused for a moment and explained simply, “I regretted not being able to prevent Bouvard’s corpse from vanishing.
“Although its prophecy has been interrupted, the source of the corruption and the backlash it suffered, as well as its traits, can point to many problems and some hidden entities.
“Isn’t this also a clue?”
Just as Lumian finished speaking, Bouvard Pont-Péro’s bloated corpse, as if drowned, suddenly fell backward. It was as if someone had grabbed his collar and yanked him out of the living room window.
Behind him, the darkness intensified, as if a strange tunnel had opened, leading to an unknown destination.
In the depths of the tunnel, specks of starlight flickered in the distance.
Bouvard Pont-Péro’s eyeless corpse plummeted into the tunnel, accelerating and shrinking until it vanished entirely, swallowed by darkness.
“I just found a helper.” Lumian’s smile persisted.
Even if the four of them could easily deal with Bouvard’s mutated corpse, Lumian didn’t think anyone present could carefully investigate and determine the source of the problem while ensuring their safety. They had to seek help. In that case, it was better to seek help from someone capable from the beginning.
Entering the room to write to Madam Magician… Franca came to a realization and didn’t probe further.
Jenna also guessed that the secret organization that used tarot cards as their code name had taken action.
Their members were connected by messengers!
Anthony Reid pondered for a moment and asked, “So, the next step is to await the autopsy report?”
He looked at Anthony Reid and gestured towards the divan, signaling him to take a seat.
“Did you find anything in your investigation of the Dreamseekers charity organization?”
It was a private charitable organization that had received a substantial donation from General Philip’s widow.
Anthony Reid shook his head.
“No. In the past two months, they’ve been operating very regularly. There were no abnormalities. Perhaps, as you said, the key members of the heretics have gone somewhere. The rest have been instructed to behave themselves for the time being.”
Lumian nodded slightly and turned to Franca, who had settled into the recliner.
“Do you know what happened to the Bliss Society?”
“It’s similar to the Sinners. They’ve eliminated several key members, but the two most important ones seem to have vanished. They must have gone to that place too,” Franca recounted the information she had obtained from Browns Sauron.
‘They’ referred to the Demoness Sect.
That place… Lumian leaned back on the sofa, his mind racing as he searched for any possible clues.
Ultimately, his thoughts settled on the prophecy made by Bouvard Pont-Péro’s corpse.
“Room 7, Room 12… Where could it be?”
Anthony Reid pondered and said, “If it were a private house, there wouldn’t be such a numbering scheme.”
“Sounds like an apartment.”
“Or a hotel,” Franca added.
Hotel… Hotel… Lumian’s eyes widened as a bolt of lightning flashed through his mind, illuminating a detail he hadn’t previously found problematic.
After he and Franca killed Beatrice Incourt, a key member of the Bliss Society, they found a note on her body. It read:
“Go to the hostel and retrieve the painting within three days.”
Isn’t a hostel a lower-class hotel? Isn’t it normal to have Room 7 and Room 12? Lumian’s thoughts instantly became clear.
At the time, he had thought that the note belonged to Beatrice, disguised as Theresa, who had purchased the receipt for a painting. Now, it seemed that the note belonged to Beatrice, a key member of the Bliss Society. It was very likely sent by the Bliss Society’s high priestess, Siber, who resided in the hostel, for Beatrice to retrieve a painting!
“Hostel…” Lumian uttered the term.
Is that where Trier’s numerous evil god bestowed go?
Franca, who had overheard Lumian’s question about Theresa, remembered the note’s contents.
Her excitement was palpable as she turned to Lumian and asked, “Did Voisin Sanson, Pualis, and the others go to that place with the codename ‘hostel’?”
Lumian replied slowly, “We still need to confirm it,” before swiftly inquiring, “Has Theresa, the art dealer, returned?”
He had questioned Browns Sauron about Theresa’s whereabouts upon discovering the note. According to the member of the Demoness Sect, the art dealer had been sent to St. Millom, the capital of the Feysac Empire, for a business deal, allowing Beatrice to impersonate her without raising suspicion.
Franca responded uncertainly, “She should be back. It’s been quite some time.”
She hadn’t paid much attention to the ordinary art dealer’s activities.
Jenna, perplexed, interjected, “What’s this about a hostel and an art dealer?”
Franca briefly explained, omitting Browns Sauron’s involvement, attributing it to an operation against the Bliss Society.
Anthony Reid, after careful consideration, voiced his thoughts, “The problem now is that even if the ‘hostel’ is indeed where the heretics gather, we still don’t know what it refers to or where it is.”
Lumian sighed softly and flashed a smile. “It’s better than having no direction.”
He then turned to Franca and said, “Ask about the real art dealer, Theresa’s residence tomorrow. I want to visit and confirm if the note belongs to her or Beatrice.”
“Understood,” Franca replied enthusiastically.
She had two motives: pressing Browns Sauron to determine when the assessment period would end and contributing to averting the impending catastrophe.
Back in her gaming days, she often chose storylines that involved saving humanity. Only when she grew bored of that did she experiment with something different.
Sigh, the phrase Demoness doesn’t quite align with preventing catastrophe… Franca sighed inwardly.
Lumian shifted his attention to Anthony Reid, pondering for a moment before revealing his plan,
“Since they’ve all been behaving themselves, it’s our turn to misbehave.”
Anthony Reid, catching Lumian’s drift, asked in confirmation, “What do you mean?”
Lumian’s smile broadened.
“We’ll abduct General Philip’s widow and the true controller of the Dreamseekers Charity Organization and interrogate them!”