395 Progress on the Other Side
Anthony Reid, the middle-aged psychiatrist, observed Lumian’s smile and mused, “Your performance suggests that this matter is personal to you.”
Anthony Reid continued, “Your smile and actions betrayed a sense of smugness.
“And your reaction tells me this matter is deeply intertwined with you.”
Could it be discerned even without mind reading? It wasn’t until that moment that Lumian realized his seemingly ordinary expressions and actions might conceal hidden information in the eyes of a Psychiatrist.
Anthony Reid calmly advised, “I’m telling you directly how I’ve interpreted your cues. In the future, when you find yourself facing a Psychiatrist and wish to deceive them, it’s best to prepare your emotions in advance and mentally rehearse your narrative as if it were genuine.
“If you’d rather not discuss the strange aura on Rue des Blouses Blanches, that’s perfectly fine. I don’t have the energy to gather information and trade it for money.”
Lumian contemplated Anthony’s words and nodded gently. He then inquired, “How’s your investigation into General Philip going? Do you require our assistance?”
Anthony Reid glanced around, confirming there were no passersby in the hall at this late hour, and Madame Fels was at a considerable distance. He whispered, “General Philip’s widow, child, and his closest friends during his lifetime don’t seem to be a concern. They are leading normal lives.
“However, I’ve discovered that General Philip’s widow donates a substantial sum to a charitable organization called Dreamseekers every quarter. The total donation amounts to nearly half of their apparent family assets.”
Lumian pondered for a moment and asked, “Quite generous. What can you tell me about the Dreamseekers charity?”
Anthony Reid replied, “That’s the subject of my next investigation. At present, I only know that their mission is to assist talented young individuals who have come to Trier to pursue their dreams but have encountered temporary hardships. They are not affiliated with the two Churches or established by government entities. It’s a private charity primarily funded by donations from high society.”
Lumian smiled and issued a warning with a hint of mockery, “Be cautious when delving into the Dreamseekers. Of course, if you happen to be reckless, it won’t matter. At the very least, I’m already aware that if you were to suddenly vanish or meet an untimely demise, the source of the trouble likely stems from that charitable organization.”
Anthony Reid stroked his light-yellow hair.
“Don’t worry, I’m timid and value my life. I duck for cover at the sound of gunfire. If I ever sense danger, I won’t be too proud to seek your assistance. Besides, this is what you promised me.”
Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “Guillaume Bénet’s wife has been residing at 20 Rue des Terraces in the library district and hasn’t attempted to relocate.
“I’ve bribed some ordinary folks around her. Recently, they’ve informed me that a mysterious man occasionally visits her late at night, raising suspicions of an affair.”
Condiment Beauty Paulina… Her decision to stay put on Rue des Terraces likely means she feels more secure now. Combined with the neighborhood rumors, there’s a strong likelihood that she has reestablished contact with Bouvard Pont-Péro of the Sinners organization… Lumian smiled once more.
“Instruct your informants to compile a summary of the mysterious man’s visitation patterns. This way, we can catch them in the act more precisely.”
It was imperative to apprehend the Sinners’ liaison, Bouvard Pont-Péro!
Only then could Lumian hope to trace the Sinners organization and locate Roche Louise Sanson’s family.
Initially, he had hoped to start his investigation with the Sanson family name, possibly targeting Jacques Sanson, who had once run for parliament in the market district. However, he soon realized that Sanson was a common surname in Intis, and Jacques Sanson’s family connections appeared straightforward. There were no apparent issues on the surface, and there were no reports of disappearances involving his sister, daughter, or other relatives.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that there were still mysteries surrounding Loki and the others who had targeted Aurore. It was impossible that the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings had directly sent a revelation instructing Loki and the others to guide Muggle into using the Soul Summoning Spell on herself, right?
Moreover, Aurore had never participated in the April Fool’s team’s real-life gatherings. How then could Loki determine that her original body was a follower of an evil god?
Lumian contemplated two possibilities. Either Aurore had long been tormented by Roche Louise Sanson’s lingering will and sought help from I Know Someone, inadvertently revealing her secret and drawing their attention, or one of the core members of the April Fool’s team had a close connection to the Sinners organization and stumbled upon the matters related to Roche Louise Sanson.
Anthony Reid nodded in approval as he observed Lumian’s patience in waiting for the mysterious man who had visited Guillaume Bénet’s wife to provide more clues.
…
Avenue du Marché, Salle de Bal Brise.
Just as Lumian reached the staircase, he spotted Sarkota waiting there.
“The Boss is upstairs,” Sarkota whispered.
He had been a part of Baron Brignais’ operation for a long time, but he had no inkling about the true identity of the elusive Boss of the Savoie Mob. By the time Ciel had taken over Salle de Bal Brise, the Boss had made two visits!
What’s the Boss doing here? Lumian’s mind raced as he quickly recalled the events of the past two days. A rough idea began to form.
Ascending the staircase to the second floor, he spotted Gardner Martin, impeccably dressed in formal attire, sans bow tie, leisurely savoring his coffee.
Gardner Martin put down his cup and asked with a smile, “Where did you go?”
Lumian responded with candor.
“I had a chat with Anthony Reid, the information broker. I assigned him a mission: keeping tabs on the widow of Guillaume Bénet, the enemy I just dispatched, and observing her associates.
“I suspect that Guillaume Bénet might be backed by a secret organization that worships an evil deity.”
Gardner Martin chuckled and remarked, “You’re not leaving any room for mercy, are you? You’re even more ruthless than I thought. Yes, we can enlist the authorities’ assistance to deal with these secret organizations of evil gods.”
Without allowing Lumian a chance to reply, he inquired further, “Did you sense that menacing and terrifying presence last night?”
Lumian nodded honestly.
“I felt it.”
I was present at the scene…
Recalling the sensation coursing through his veins when he resonated with the Blood Emperor’s aura, he added,
“Back then, my blood seemed to be on fire.
“I wanted to investigate the origin of that aura, but the official Beyonders were quicker and sealed off Rue des Blouses Blanches.”
“When the official Beyonders are less vigilant, pay a visit to 6 Rue des Blouses Blanches and do some digging. You might stumble upon something.”
“Alright,” Lumian agreed readily.
A return to the crime scene promised its own brand of intrigue.
…
Late at night, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches, Apartment 601, Franca’s room.
Sitting beside the typewriter and radio transceiver, the Demoness of Pleasure perused the information before turning to Jenna, who sat by her bedside.
“The gist of the matter is that Ciel has stumbled upon a new enemy. This guy is a Sequence 5 Marionettist of the Seer pathway, a member of Bureau 8. He’s sinister and powerful. Not only did he detect our surveillance, but he also traced us back and launched an ambush…”
Franca skipped over the part about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and recounted the entire incident.
In this narrative, Hela’s identity had been that of a formidable Beyonder hired through a mysticism gathering.
Franca spread her hands and said, “I was out cold and unaware of the terrifying and violent aura that permeated the scene. When I came to, we were all underground. The Marionettist, who went by the code name Loki, was already dead. Ciel was incinerating his body, and that woman was watching.”
Jenna was astounded by the capabilities and performance of a Marionettist. She tensed, feeling the summer night grow colder.
Seeing Jenna’s reaction, Franca seized the moment to add, “But there’s something even more chilling!”
She proceeded to recount everything she knew, sending shivers down Jenna’s spine. Jenna involuntarily took a few steps closer to Franca.
“Dammit, what else have you guys been up to that I don’t know about?” Jenna mustered her courage, spewing out a few choice expletives.
“It’s not us, it’s Ciel!” Franca was about to delve into the horror when a message crackled through the radio transceiver.
The intricate analyzer automatically translated it, spitting out a piece of paper through a connected mechanical typewriter.
Franca picked it up and saw it was from 007.
“Hidden Blade, do you have any information about the terrifying aura in the market district last night?”
Franca typed out her response,
“I don’t reside in the market district. Why would I know anything about it?”
007 quickly replied, “Most of the information you provide and the favors you ask from me are related to or within the vicinity of the market district. If you haven’t set foot there in the past six months, I’ll eat my own hat!”
Franca chuckled dryly and responded, under Jenna’s watchful gaze. “I do have some knowledge about this incident.
“But I can’t spill the beans right now. You’ll get the scoop at our next gathering.”
…
As Franca conversed with 007, Lumian was resting in Room 207 of the Auberge du Coq Doré.
For the moment, he refrained from finding any acting possibilities. Despite having received treatment from Madame Hela and no longer teetering on the brink of losing control, as well as the auto-recovery at 6 a.m., there were lingering mental issues that required time and rest to slowly mend. Additionally, he needed to wait for Madame Hela to extract “confessions” from the April Fool’s team members.
Just before midnight, the pure silver skull emerged from the shadows, its teeth gripping a thick stack of papers.
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