335 Another World
Lumian withdrew his focus from the grimoire and turned his attention to Franca.
“Is there a problem with that?”
He had meticulously studied the Soul Summoning Spell on numerous occasions. If there had been a problem, he should have uncovered it sooner.
His limitation lay in his inability to learn the spell and discern its ultimate effects. However, as a Pyromaniac, he didn’t possess the necessary capacity for such learnings, being incompatible with the corresponding Sequence.
Franca remained silent for a few seconds before speaking up, “What happens when the Soul Summoning Spell is used on others?”
“It enables a spirit to reunite with the body from which it was separated, providing a means to call back Astral Projections lost in the spirit world, thus offering an opportunity for reconnection with their physical forms,” Lumian began, describing the spell based on Aurore’s grimoire before offering a personal example for clarity. “In the previous battle, if I had been afflicted by Guillaume Bénet’s Soul Assimilation Mystic Spell, resulting in severe disorientation, the Soul Summoning Spell might have roused me from unconsciousness. Naturally, the premise here is that there exist Beyonders with the ability to learn and employ this spell.”
Franca disregarded Lumian’s answer and inquired with gravitas, “What if one were to employ it on oneself?”
What kind of question is that? Lumian pondered for a moment and asked, “It would be ineffective. If no signs of separation between spirit and body are evident, the spell would have no impact when cast on oneself. If there’s already a problem resembling such a condition, then one wouldn’t be able to employ any spells at all.”
“But what if, hypothetically…” Franca began before her words trailed off.
Jenna, observant and quick-witted, glanced at Franca, then at Lumian before rising from her seat and flashing a smile.
“We’ve been engrossed in discussion for quite a while. Aren’t you both feeling hungry? How about I get some afternoon tea?”
“Sure,” Lumian agreed on Franca’s behalf.
He sensed that Franca was on the brink of revealing something that might be problematic if Jenna caught wind of it. This was why she stopped short in the midst of speaking.
Lumian had already contemplated introducing Jenna to Mr. Fool’s faith. They were comrades now, destined for numerous joint endeavors. In such scenarios, certain secrets couldn’t be concealed, and in constantly doing so, would inevitably hinder collaboration.
As for whether to share information about the Tarot Club and Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, Lumian hadn’t reached a conclusion.
After careful consideration, he determined that preaching to Jenna would be more fitting once she became a Witch. Her Sequence was still too low, and she lacked the strength to shoulder the weight of such knowledge. Too much information could make her vulnerable and inadvertently divulge secrets. However, Sequence 7 Witches of the Assassin pathway represented a qualitative transformation below the demigod tier, empowering Jenna to fend for herself.
While Lumian remained unfamiliar with the Sequence 5 of this particular pathway—its name and the Beyonder powers it encompassed—he believed that a Sequence 6 Demoness of Pleasure didn’t manifest a drastic metamorphosis compared to a Witch. The latter could even alter an individual’s gender, illustrating the considerable gap in their capabilities.
Franca’s gaze followed Jenna’s retreating figure until the sound of her gradually fading footsteps reached her ears. She settled into a cross-legged position on the recliner, emitting a soft sigh.
“It’s not that Jenna couldn’t know about this, but I’m concerned that it might make her fearful of me, that she’ll distance herself and view me in a different way.”
Lumian didn’t pose the question: “Aren’t you worried I might react similarly?” He retook his seat, patience etched on his features as he awaited Franca’s explanation about the Soul Summoning Spell.
Franca’s lips pursed, her demeanor wavering between hesitation and apprehension. After a beat, she chuckled self-mockingly.
“It’s also why I sensed a dangerous aura in this matter—otherwise, I wouldn’t have even thought about sharing this with you. I would have kept it to my grave. Uh, there’s another reason too—your Spell of Harrumph’s origins are of great significance to me. I hope you’ll lay bare all the details with me, just as I’m about to disclose my secret to you.
“Sigh, we, members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, share one commonality—we all come from another world!”
With that, Franca slouched further into the recliner, seemingly drained of energy.
Observing a Demoness of Pleasure adopt such a posture inadvertently fueled a subtle warmth within Lumian, despite his thoughts being directed elsewhere.
“Another world?” Lumian echoed, genuine surprise coloring his voice.
This was an outcome that hadn’t even crossed his mind.
Such a possibility was one that ordinary individuals would scarcely contemplate and a rarity even within the confines of fiction.
In a fleeting moment, he sensed an odd alignment with this notion.
With a conscious effort to rein in his emotions, he inquired thoughtfully, “Is this the ‘home’ my sister often speaks of—the place she claims she can never return to?”
Initially, Lumian had surmised that his sister’s homeland had been ravaged by conflict or catastrophe, hence her assertion of being unable to return. Otherwise, armed with her Warlock strength, she could have surreptitiously revisited, even if she was being pursued by the entire world.
Subsequently, Lumian discovered Aurore’s status as a Trierien, causing him to find her references to an enigmatic “home” perplexing.
Franca’s expression shifted into one of complex emotions upon hearing Lumian’s question. Her countenance was a blend of wistfulness, melancholy, and sorrow.
“Does she frequently speak of ‘home’?” Franca inquired, her eyes briefly shuttered to mask the shifting emotions within.
Without awaiting Lumian’s reply, Franca’s lips pursed, and she continued, “Think of it as another planet or alternate dimension.”
Lumian dipped into his memories, muttering to himself, “No wonder she enjoys climbing up to the rooftop to gaze at the cosmos…”
“The cosmos…” Franca echoed with a sigh.
A hushed ambiance enshrouded Apartment 601 as Lumian and Franca delved into their introspective reveries.
After a pause, a memory resurfaced within Lumian’s mind.
Madam Magician had mentioned evil gods like the Mother Tree of Desire existing outside our world, separated by a barrier. These entities perpetually seek methods to breach that boundary.
Lumian’s gaze shifted toward Franca, and he voiced his thoughts, “Could it be that all of you are spawn of an evil god released into this world?”
“Pfft!” Franca immediately shook off her contemplative state. “Do we look anything like that to you?”
“No,” Lumian responded after a brief pondering, “You’re far too weak for the efforts of the evil gods to be expended in sending you here. They could have instead focused on sending more of Their saints. Or perhaps They are pinning Their hopes on your potential growth?”
After all, being weak had its own advantages. Infiltration through the barrier would be less likely to be detected.
Amused and slightly annoyed, Franca was tempted to refute his words, but tangible evidence eluded her grasp, leaving her with little recourse.
“In any case, I’ve come to believe in Mr. Fool. Not one member of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society whom I’ve encountered shares faith in an evil god.”
“Even if they did, they might not reveal it to you…” Lumian muttered.
Franca ignored his comment and continued, “I also remain uncertain about the why behind our transmigration. I’ve been seeking an answer for quite some time. What I do know is that we arrived in this world as spirits and found ourselves reborn within other individuals’ bodies. It’s comparable to Guillaume Bénet’s process of Rebirth.”
Drawing on this analogy, Lumian effortlessly comprehended the situation of Franca and her companions in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.
“In other words, you inhabit the bodies of other people?”
“Yes.” Franca cast a sidelong glance at Lumian, remarking, “Are you disheartened to learn that the sister you hold dear is essentially a wandering spirit occupying another’s body?”
“Why would I be disheartened?” Lumian responded casually. “Aurore Lee, the person who took me in and shared my life in Cordu for nearly six years, is my sister. I care not for the past of that body or its history.”
Franca seemed to seek Lumian’s perspective on her own behalf, “Don’t you find this situation morally dubious? Do you not consider your sister and me as thieves who appropriate the corpses and lives of others? Does this not present you with moral dilemmas or conflicts?”
“I have no morals,” Lumian replied calmly.
Expanding upon his statement, he added, “I show kindness to those who are kind to me.”
Franca’s mouth slightly agape, she struggled to find an immediate rejoinder.
Lumian glanced at her and said, “That person is already deceased. It’s a pragmatic use of available resources. If guilt weighs on you, treat her—no, his family well. Perhaps even fulfill some of his unfulfilled desires.”
“True.” Franca pressed her lips together, nodding in agreement.
Steering the conversation back to its initial trajectory, she inquired, “What might occur if individuals like us were to employ the Soul Summoning Spell on ourselves?”
“Could it summon a departed spirit? And if there’s an underlying issue with the spirit itself…” Lumian’s train of thought expanded abruptly.
Simultaneously, he recalled a line of inquiry introduced by Madame Hela, the vice president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.
“Muggle’s parents and other relatives likely remain alive in this world. For some reason, she distanced herself from them and refrains from returning to Trier. It’s unclear whether there’s something amiss with them or if they’ve come into contact with heretics…”
Did Madame Hela already harbor suspicions? Lumian’s brows furrowed as he whispered,
“Could Roche Louise Sanson be the original boyd’s spirit? Is she and some of her family members associated with Inevitability, perhaps even linked to the Sinners organization?”
“Continuing our investigation in that direction is indeed a possibility,” Franca admitted after a moment’s contemplation. “Two other questions arise. Why did Muggle resort to the Soul Summoning Spell for herself? Did the April Fool’s member who sold her the spell foresee this outcome?”
Franca had chosen to share the secret of their transmigration with Lumian, sensing that something might be awry within the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and discerning an impending threat.
Lumian offered a subdued nod, his expression void of emotion. A subtle smile played upon his lips as he ventured, “You mentioned that April Fool’s Day was formed by members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society who are disheartened by the future and seek only joy. Could it be that the individual who sold Aurore the Soul Summoning Spell hoped to experience such amusement?”
Franca fell into a brief contemplative silence before replying, “I don’t know. I’ll take charge of locating the April Fool’s member and delve into their motivations.”
Lumian offered a curt acknowledgment. “I’ll follow the trail of Roche Louise Sanson.”
With the conversation surrounding the Soul Summoning Spell concluded, an interim quiet settled within the living room of Apartment 601.
After a pause, Franca exhaled softly and told Lumian, “You can now tell me about the Spell of Harrumph.”
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