438 Ghost Ship
Mr. Hanged Man is ready… Lumian took out his golden pocket watch and opened it to take a look.
He could summon the Armored Shadow at any moment. His only concern was that it might pose a danger. Summoning it without a good reason could lead to an attack or a curse. However, with The Hanged Man—the Major Arcana card holder of the Tarot Club—present, there was no need to worry about such matters.
The uncertainty now lay in Franca’s availability. After all, she had to translate.
Lumian burned the letter and left Auberge du Coq Doré, heading straight for Apartment 601 at 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.
“Why are you here so late?” Franca clearly wasn’t the early-to-bed type.
Lumian glanced at Jenna, who had just finished removing her heavy makeup, and smiled at Franca.
“Do you have time tonight? We can summon the Armored Shadow again and ask it questions.”
Summon the Armored Shadow again… Franca’s eyes lit up as she blurted out, “I’m free!”
The Armored Shadow was most likely from her homeland, involving the secret of their transmigration and their way back. Even at 6 a.m., she would say she had time to be a translator, let alone just midnight!
Noticing Jenna’s confusion and curiosity, Franca explained excitedly, “Didn’t Ciel ask us to gather information on spirit world creatures that fulfill the summoning conditions? One of the summoning targets he chose had a directional ambiguity when designing the summoning incantation, attracting a very peculiar spirit world creature. The ability to snort and spit you saw earlier came from a contract with that spirit world creature.”
Out of jealousy and envy, Franca described the Spell of Harrumph as snorting and spitting.
Jenna had a deep impression of the Spell of Harrumph and found its effects potent and mystical. Her initial reaction was to ask, “Is it possible for us to sign a contract with similar spirit world creatures?”
“Sigh, I wish I had a similar contracted creature, but I can’t obtain such a special contract,” Franca expressed her regret and resentment sincerely. “In short, that spirit world creature is very unique and involves many secrets. A big shot of the organization backing us—uh, a demigod—is very interested. And now, only Ciel can accurately summon the target creature through the contract’s connection.”
Franca asked Lumian, “Is that person here?”
“Yes.” Lumian nodded gently.
Jenna looked at them thoughtfully and asked, “Is it Justice, Magician, or have The Star or The Moon arrived?”
Franca’s expression froze, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes filled with disbelief. Lumian was taken aback. He didn’t expect Jenna to reveal the code names of the Major Arcana card holders and make the connection that her two companions were related to them.
Amidst the indescribable silence, Jenna’s brows relaxed, and she smiled.
“I guessed right! You guys belong to the secret organization that uses tarot cards as their code names!”
“H-how did you know?” Franca asked in surprise.
Jenna pursed her lips and sneered.
“You have nearly ten decks of tarot cards in this room, and you don’t usually use them for divination. Then, Ciel told me that the Mr. Fool you believe in is roughly equivalent to The Fool in tarot cards. As for me, I’ve been attending mysticism gatherings recently and heard about the legend of Justice and the other Major Arcana card holders, as well as the existence of Minor Arcana cards.
“With so much information placed before me, if I don’t make any connections and probe, won’t I appear stupid?”
The more she spoke, the more pleased she became.
Franca was taken aback for a moment before saying, “Your Instigator potion wasn’t wasted…”
“Excellent,” Lumian praised reluctantly. “You’re prepared to drink the Witch potion.”
Without further ado, he left Apartment 601 with Franca. He planned to write a letter to Madam Magician at Auberge du Coq Doré, informing her that he could summon the Armored Shadow now.
Jenna watched them leave and muttered to herself, Witch… What would happen if a man drinks the Witch potion…
…
Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 207.
After Lumian sent the letter, he didn’t extinguish the candle’s flame and waited for a reply under the dual illumination.
Franca paced back and forth in the cramped room, feeling excited and a little nervous.
She yearned for clues about returning home via the Armored Shadow, but she feared that even her last hope would be obliterated.
Time ticked by. Just as the Demoness of Pleasure felt as if a year had passed, the candlelight in the room suddenly surged.
In the dim yellow flames the size of a human head, resplendent starlight flew out, enveloping Lumian and Franca.
It was as if they had arrived in the boundless cosmos, becoming abnormally insignificant.
After a brief moment of dizziness, Lumian and Franca realized that they had left Room 207 of Auberge du Coq Doré and arrived on a pitch-black deck.
The first thing they saw was an ancient triple mast, its grayish-white sails curled up like an open door.
The crimson moonlight fell from the sky, but it couldn’t completely illuminate the area where Lumian and Franca were. It was dark, and the wooden planks were mottled, like an ancient haunted building.
Franca quickly surveyed the area and sighed with relief.
“Wow, an ancient sailboat.
“It’s perfect for horror films!”
“What’s a horror film?” Lumian asked casually.
Franca smiled awkwardly.
“A play depicting a ghost story.”
As she spoke, she touched the dark flaxen rope resting on the shipboard, as if trying to discern its exact era.
Suddenly, the rope came alive and nimbly wrapped around Franca’s right hand, attempting to bind the Demoness of Pleasure.
A layer of black flames erupted, scorching the dark linen rope that seemed to possess a life of its own.
The rope snapped back, as if in pain.
Simultaneously, a rope that had been lying silently on the deck swung towards Lumian.
Lumian raised his slightly scorching right palm and grabbed the front of the rope.
The rope suddenly turned still, as if all its vitality had been drained.
All the ropes that had come back to life in this area returned to normal. They landed with a thud and stopped wriggling.
Lumian looked down at his right palm and muttered silently, The Blood Emperor’s remnant aura on me faintly resonates with this ship…
These strange ropes became obedient when they felt the heat in my right palm…
Is this the ancient sailboat I saw at Lavigny Docks this morning?
Lavigny Docks… The Fool cathedral… Is this Mr. Hanged Man’s ship?
Lumian’s thoughts raced as he quickly made a guess.
Franca spun around and said excitedly, “This is a ghost ship, a ghost ship!
“It’s alive to begin with!”
As the Demoness of Pleasure’s voice reverberated across the deck, Lumian heard Madam Magician’s words: “Mr. Hanged Man’s ghost ship is a relic from the Tudor Empire. There are many unsolved secrets. When he rewards you, you can choose to explore this ship. As for when to embark on the exploration, it’s up to you.”
As expected, it has something to do with the Tudor Empire… Lumian’s resolve grew as he walked towards the cabin.
As Franca followed, she looked around curiously, touching and tapping here and there. Occasionally, she whispered, as if she wanted to communicate with Mr. Hanged Man’s ghost ship.
Amidst the creaking sounds, a door in the cabin opened on its own.
A thick, dark-brown carpet covered the area, flanked by bookshelves and a liquor cabinet. Yellow-covered books and dark-red bottles of wine filled the space.
In front of the bookshelf stood a wide wooden table. On it were a variety of items—an ink bottle, a quill, a brass sextant, a black metallic telescope, and white candles.
Leaning against the desk stood a middle-aged man of average stature. His dark-blue hair was disheveled, and his skin was bronze and rough. He wore a linen shirt, a brown jacket, and loose dark pantaloons. He exuded a dignified aura. He was the supplicant Lumian had seen at The Fool cathedral that morning.
“Are you Mr. Hanged Man?” Lumian inquired.
The man in his prime nodded slightly.
“I’m The Hanged Man.”
Franca scrutinized the man and recalled that they were on a ghost ship. She immediately recalled something.
“Y-you’re Stormbringer Alger? Is this the Blue Avenger?” Franca blurted out in surprise and delight.
The Hanged Man glanced at her and replied expressionlessly, “You’ve heard of me?”
“Of course!” Franca praised sincerely. “You’re a maritime king without the title of a Pirate King. If you hadn’t fought the King of the Five Seas in the Fog Sea and caused the surrounding ships to experience a terrifying storm, no one would have known you were a demigod.
“Furthermore, you’re different from those pirates. You’re a genuine, unadulterated treasure hunter with lofty aspirations. You never plunder proper ships. You’ve been exploring the western borders of the Fog Sea, searching for the Lost City of Newins and the Solomon Empire’s inheritance.”
It wasn’t easy for her to hold back the words “you’re my idol.” She felt that it would appear to transcend the times. Franca had once dreamed of being a pure treasure hunter and sailing the Five Seas.
Stormbringer Alger… After Lumian discovered that Church of The Fool’s power center was at sea, he had consciously shared information about the Pirate Kings and Pirate Admirals with Franca. He knew that Alger, nicknamed Stormbringer, was a demigod captain, but he wasn’t a Pirate King. Therefore, his nickname didn’t include the term “king.” However, Vice Admiral Ailment, who had become a Pirate King, was now known as the Queen of Ailment.
As for the Lost City of Newins and the Solomon Empire’s legacy, they were treasure legends that had been popular in the Five Seas for many years.
At times, Lumian couldn’t help but admire Fors Wall, the author of The Adventurer series. She had the audacity to write erotic stories about the Pirate Kings.
Aren’t you afraid of being found and executed?
Or was she under the protection of the Church of The Fool?
In the face of Franca’s enthusiastic praise, The Hanged Man Alger fell silent for two seconds before saying,
“Maintaining a certain level of purity is both a good and a bad thing.
“Can we begin the summoning ritual?”
Franca muttered under her breath, “A man still has a youthful side even in death…”
Lumian responded to Mr. Hanged Man’s question, “Anytime.”
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