221 Venting
Jenna’s gaze fixated on Lumian’s retreating figure as she inquired, “Where are you off to?”
“Getting some shut-eye,” Lumian replied without glancing back.
Pursing her lips, Jenna pondered for a brief moment before deciding to follow him.
She wanted to ascertain his final destination and see if he truly intended to return to the Auberge du Coq Doré to sleep. Otherwise, with his current state, she couldn’t fathom the trouble he might stir up.
Ignoring Jenna’s presence, Lumian ambled slowly back towards the Auberge du Coq Doré.
As he reached the motel’s entrance, he discovered the main door firmly locked. Rather than scaling the pipes, he retrieved a small wire from his person and deftly inserted it into the brass keyhole, skillfully manipulating it.
The door swung open, revealing the murky interior. The only source of illumination emanated from the staircase leading down to the basement bar.
Lumian cast a fleeting glance and chose to descend in that direction.
Dammit! Didn’t he claim he was going to bed? Jenna cursed inwardly and let out a resigned sigh. She trailed after him into the Auberge du Coq Doré’s basement bar.
The bar wasn’t bustling with patrons. Two or three inebriated men occupied a small round table, sporadically bellowing, but they lacked any significant strength.
The sole customer at the bar counter happened to be Lumian’s neighbor, Gabriel, the playwright residing in Room 206.
Garbed in a faded linen shirt, brown trousers, and oversized black-framed glasses, Gabriel’s hair appeared unkempt and greasy.
“You’re still drinking at this hour?” Lumian settled beside Gabriel, his gaze fixed upon the glass of green absinthe clasped in the playwright’s hand, shimmering with a psychedelic allure.
Has he returned to normal? Jenna appraised Lumian, sensing that his condition wasn’t as dire as before.
Suppressing a yawn with her hand, she pulled a barstool over and took a seat, resolute in her intent to observe for another thirty minutes.
Gabriel forced a bitter smile and responded, “I just finished a manuscript and came down for a drink.”
“Are all authors the same? Do you prefer to toil at night and slumber during the day?” Lumian rapped on the bar counter, beckoning for a glass of absinthe.
Pausing for a moment, Gabriel replied, “Many authors are like that. Tranquil nights grant us greater inspiration.
“But that’s not why I stay up late. I must visit various theaters during the day, persuading managers to peruse and accept my manuscript.
“Today, I went to the Théatre de la Renaissance in Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative. Their manager, Nathan Lopp, is renowned as the most astute theater manager. He possesses the highest likelihood of recognizing the value of my script. Yet, he refused to see me. I failed to meet him both at his office and during my visit to his apartment.”
Upon hearing words like “theater” and “manager,” Jenna inwardly gasped, a vague sense of trepidation creeping over her.
The fact that many individuals around her worshiped an evil god had left a lasting scar on her psyche.
Furthermore, their abilities were repulsive and twisted, evoking deep-rooted revulsion within her.
“Do you happen to know where the theater manager lives?”
“Yes, I’ve visited him at his apartment before, along with other playwrights. He’s still unmarried and often changes mistresses,” Gabriel rambled on.
A grin crept across Lumian’s face.
“I have a way to get that fellow to read your script, but I can’t guarantee he will accept it.”
“Really?” Gabriel was taken aback and perplexed.
There’s actually a way? Jenna wondered, her mind filled with bewilderment.
Lumian swiftly finished his absinthe and rose to his feet.
“Let’s go at once. Bring your script!”
“…” Gabriel had never encountered such a man of action.
It was already midnight!
With no remaining hope, he resolved to give it a try. Downing the last of his absinthe, he ascended to the second floor to retrieve the script for his three-act play.
Standing at the entrance of Auberge du Coq Doré, Jenna studied Lumian with a mix of puzzlement and curiosity. “Do you truly have a solution?”
Lumian scoffed dismissively. “You need not believe me.”
“Heh!” Jenna expressed her disdain.
Uncertain if this was a consequence of his troubled state, she felt a twinge of curiosity and decided to follow Lumian to prevent him from engaging in any rash actions.
Before long, Gabriel returned to the ground floor.
He had changed into a clean and respectable formal suit, complete with a crimson bow tie.
“Address,” Lumian inquired calmly.
“Room 702, 15 Rue Defoe, Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative.” Gabriel gazed at the poorly lit Rue Anarchie, observing only a few inebriated individuals and wanderers.
He tentatively asked, “Shall we walk there?”
There were no public carriages available at this hour, and Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative was adjacent to the market district.
Lumian paid no attention to the query, instead strolling towards Avenue du Marché at a steady pace. He halted before a late-night-operating rental carriage, a four-wheeled two-seater, and addressed the driver, who sported the uniform of the Empire Carriage Company.
“To 15 Rue Defoe, Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative.”
The carriage driver, donning a waxed hat and a blue gown adorned with yellow buttons, scrutinized Lumian and his two companions before stating, “Two verl d’or.”
In Trier, daytime travel in a rental carriage lasting less than an hour cost 1.25 verl d’or, with an additional 1.75 verl d’or per hour. After midnight until 6 a.m., short journeys were priced at 2 verl d’or, while longer trips incurred a charge of 2.5 verl d’or per hour.
Lumian remained silent, producing two silver coins worth 1 verl d’or each and tossing them to the carriage driver.
Showing no courtesy, he boarded the carriage and took a seat.
This left Gabriel in a predicament. Unsure whether he should act chivalrously and jostle with Ciel or allow the singer, Jenna, to make her own choice.
Eventually, realizing she hadn’t been invited, Jenna grumbled and settled herself beside Lumian, striving to secure some personal space.
The rental carriage set off, embarking on its journey towards Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative.
During the ride, Lumian maintained an unsettling silence, leaving Gabriel hesitant to inquire about his solution. The atmosphere inside the carriage grew somewhat uncomfortable.
Having grown accustomed to Lumian’s peculiar state that night, Jenna cleared her mind and focused on her own thoughts.
After an indeterminate period, the rental carriage came to a halt at 15 Rue Defoe.
Lumian wasted no time and headed straight for the apartment building. Upon entering the lobby, he was intercepted by a vigilant guard.
“Which floor and room are you residing in?” the dutiful guard inquired. “If you’re not a resident here, you need…”
Before the guard could finish his sentence, a chilling object was pressed against his temple.
Lumian had swiftly produced a revolver from under his armpit and pressed the barrel firmly against the guard’s forehead.
“W-What do you think you’re doing?” the guard, who appeared to be almost fifty, stammered.
Gabriel stood frozen, his mind filled with doubt regarding Ciel’s supposed solution.
Amused and eager to witness the unfolding events, Jenna observed Lumian silently guide the guard to a secluded corner of the lobby. Using the rope and various items he had with him, he proceeded to bind the guard’s hands and feet, effectively rendering him immobile. A gag was placed over the guard’s mouth to ensure his silence.
With the task completed, Lumian shut the apartment door behind him and secured the lock before ascending the staircase.
As if awakening from a dream, Gabriel hastened after him, his voice filled with anxiety.
“Is that really okay?”
“What do you think?” Lumian replied with a grin.
Gabriel faltered, lost for words. He hesitated, contemplating whether he should abandon his pursuit of having Nathan Lopp, the manager of Théatre de la Renaissance, read his script.
If I were to express my doubts and return now, would Ciel become furious and resort to violence? After all, he is a mob leader… Gabriel gaped, incapable of uttering anything that might dissuade Lumian.
Soon, the trio reached the top floor and stopped outside Room 702.
Gabriel, poised to knock, witnessed Lumian deftly employ the short wire to open the vermilion wooden door.
“…” Gabriel couldn’t make sense of Lumian’s intentions in the slightest.
Observing this, Jenna swiftly removed her light-colored shawl and draped it over her face, exposing only her forehead and eyes.
She harbored suspicions that Ciel was about to cause trouble. To avoid being implicated by him, it was prudent to conceal her identity. At the very least, she couldn’t allow anyone to remember her appearance.
Lumian stepped into the living room, awash with the glow of the crimson moonlight. Producing a bandage, he wrapped it around his face, leaving only his eyes and nostrils visible.
“… ” Though Gabriel failed to comprehend why Jenna and Ciel were veiling their faces, he instinctively found a cloth and covered the lower portion of his own face.
Enveloped in a white bandage, Lumian surveyed the surroundings before proceeding towards the master bedroom. He turned the handle and gently pushed open the door.
The living room was bathed in the luminosity of the crimson moon, illuminating the figures reclining in the bed.
There lay a man and a woman. The man boasted disheveled black hair, appearing to be in his early forties. His countenance was gaunt, with a prominent nose bridge. The woman possessed curly blond hair, seemingly in her twenties. Her complexion was flawless, and her features were strikingly beautiful.
Beneath the velvet blanket, they appeared to be unclothed.
“He’s the theater manager?” Lumian didn’t restrain his voice at all.
Gabriel felt as though he were trapped in a surreal reverie.
“Yes, that’s him.”
Lumian advanced swiftly towards the grand bed. The manager of Théatre de la Renaissance, Nathan Lopp, stirred from his slumber upon hearing the commotion.
Before he could open his eyes, Lumian grasped his shoulder and hoisted him upright.
Nathan Lopp jolted awake, his eyes confronted with the sight of a head swathed in white bandages.
His heart seemed to skip a beat, rendering him speechless and devoid of protest.
In the next instant, a revolver was pressed against his temple.
Nathan Lopp sealed his lips shut and was propelled into the living room.
As he passed by Jenna, Lumian cast a sidelong glance towards the bed and whispered, “Keep an eye on that woman.”
Jenna found herself bewildered by the unfolding events, yet it did nothing to quell her exhilaration.
Without hesitation, she lowered herself into a crouch, drew her own revolver, and trained it upon the recently awakened blonde. With a touch of cold detachment, she issued a stern warning, “I don’t want to hear a word.”
The blonde wrapped her arms tightly around the blanket, trembling on the bed.
Lumian settled Nathan Lopp into a recliner, securing his hands and feet to the sofa and floor using garments.
Perplexed, Gabriel came over. Suddenly, a thought struck him: Are we here to rob Nathan Lopp, or are we here to present him with my script?
Jenna escorted the blonde, clad in a nightgown, to the living room. Lumian, who had illuminated the crystal chandelier, took a few steps back. He retrieved his revolver and seated himself on the divan opposite the recliner.
Nathan Lopp appeared freshly awakened and uttered anxiously, “How much do you want? I’ll give it to you, everything! There’s a total of 1,100 verl d’or and a diamond necklace here. I’ll surrender them all! Just promise not to harm me!”
Lumian, his face concealed by bandages, turned towards Gabriel and stated, “Read it.”
“Read what?” Gabriel responded, his mind blank.
Lumian let out a soft chuckle.
“Read your script. Monsieur Nathan Lopp is waiting.”
Wh… Gabriel stood dumbfounded.
Is this the solution to making Nathan Lopp read my script?
Is this how a rational person thinks?
Not only Gabriel pondered this, but Jenna couldn’t help but mumble to herself.
Ciel’s mind is truly unhinged!
Won’t this result in Monsieur Playwright being taken to the police station?
Thank goodness I’ve concealed my face!
With a similar sense of relief, Gabriel approached Nathan Lopp apprehensively. He retrieved the script and began reading it aloud, as if compelled to do so.
Nathan Lopp listened in bewilderment, questioning whether he was trapped in a ludicrous dream.
Halfway through his slumber, a masked intruder invaded his abode, binding him to a chair merely to subject him to a script recital?
As he listened attentively, Nathan Lopp’s professional instincts kicked in, drawing him further into the script.
After the main dialogue of the first scene concluded, Nathan Lopp interrupted Gabriel.
“Who wrote this?”
“Me,” Gabriel replied subconsciously.
Nathan Lopp’s voice resonated deeply as he stated, “Bring it to my office tomorrow at 10 a.m. We’ll sign the contract.”
“Alright, alright.” Gabriel’s emotions swirled with surprise, happiness, and fear.
Will I find the police waiting for me at Théatre de la Renaissance tomorrow?
Lumian chuckled, rising from his seat and making his way to the door with his revolver.
Jenna and Gabriel followed closely behind, allowing the blonde woman to free Nathan Lopp from his restraints.
As they descended the stairs, Jenna flashed a smile at Gabriel and inquired, “Monsieur Playwright, your script is exceptional. Your words are captivating. What is its title?”
“It’s called ‘Lightseeker,’” Gabriel responded instinctively, unable to comprehend why an underground singer held such interest in the script.
Jenna quickened her pace to catch up with Lumian. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Is this your solution? Aren’t you concerned that the theater manager may also be a devotee of an evil god?”
In her current state of mind, all theaters seemed suspect.
Lumian removed the bandages, his expression unwavering, as he replied, “Then we would have fought.”
I knew it… Jenna silently muttered to herself.
After retrieving their belongings and ropes from the guard, the trio boarded a rental carriage and returned to Auberge du Coq Doré.
Once Gabriel expressed his gratitude and retreated to his room, a mix of worry and joy, Jenna observed Ciel as he freshened up and settled onto the bed. Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief.
She drew the curtains and carefully closed the wooden door before departing Auberge du Coq Doré.
In the nearly pitch-black darkness, Lumian’s eyes remained closed, unmoving.
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