496 Sin
Lumian commented nonchalantly towards Franca’s suggestion, “That works too. In the future, if anyone wants to use this armor, I’ll ‘teleport’ it to you. What’s this called? It’s called Ciel Postal Service. It’ll be delivered immediately!”
After joking, he approached the Pride Armor standing beside the coffee table and began stuffing its silver-white glove into the opening of the Traveler’s Bag.
With this motion, the towering full-body armor shrank into the small black cloth bag.
As long as one part of an item could enter a Traveler’s Bag, it could pass through the opening regardless of its size, as long as it didn’t exceed the space within. Typically, flesh and blood infused with vitality couldn’t be stored in a Traveler’s Bag.
Considering these factors, Lumian’s initial thought upon obtaining the Beyonder item and its “explanation manual” was that it could be used to conceal a corpse.
“How magical…” Jenna watched the scene unfold with envy.
Despite attending numerous mysticism gatherings, she had never encountered such an item. The closest thing she knew was the world inside a painting.
Lumian concealed his Traveler’s Bag beneath his clothes, a smile playing on his lips. Addressing Anthony and Jenna, he remarked, “After this incident, you ought to know Franca and I are backed by a secret organization. It’s not the Iron and Blood Cross Order or the Demoness Sect. So, what do you say? Interested in joining? If not, I’ll need you to sign a confidentiality agreement or swear a binding oath of secrecy.”
Having heard Lumian and Franca discuss the secret organization and knowing that they genuinely believed in Mr. Fool, Jenna was familiar with the tarot card code name. Having received The Fool’s response, her decision was swift.
“I’m in.”
Anthony Reid pondered in silence for a moment before inquiring, “Does your organization follow some hidden entity?”
“It’s an orthodox god,” Lumian responded, addressing Anthony’s unspoken concerns. “If you doubt me, I can show you the cathedral.”
Observing Lumian’s expression, Anthony confirmed the sincerity.
The Psychiatrist let out a bitter laugh and admitted, “Then I don’t have an issue. My past experiences and this incident have taught me that I’m still too feeble to prevent such a catastrophe. Even if it stands right beside me, I can only watch as myself and those around me plummet into the abyss.”
For Anthony, joining a secret organization seemed like a pragmatic choice to strengthen himself—especially one that followed an orthodox god.
As a believer of the God of Steam and Machinery, Anthony had carefully considered it. He realized that the Church’s scriptures lacked any mention of animosity between orthodox gods, unlike the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, which perpetually preached hatred towards the Lord of Storms and the God of Knowledge and Wisdom.
In other words, his faith wouldn’t hinder Anthony from joining such a secret organization.
Without waiting for Lumian and Franca’s response, Anthony grinned self-deprecatingly and admitted, “I originally planned to head back to the West Midseashire Coast, live in the countryside, but now I’m worried I can’t escape the looming catastrophe. Just like those in the market district, who’d willingly dance on the edge of life and death amidst repeated abnormalities? Yet, their wills and desires are futile.
“From what I’ve seen, catastrophes are becoming more frequent.”
Lumian mocked his companion.
“You’ve turned into a nag after your mental illness got sorted.”
He continued, “We’ll hash out the details once you confirm your Major Arcana card and get your mission assignment.”
Jenna pursed her lips, a dark expression crossing her face.
“I actually kinda like living in the market district…”
It seemed like she needed to leave this place.
A soft chuckle escaped Lumian’s lips.
“This is, in fact, protection for the market district. Hunters and Demonesses always bring catastrophe.”
Always bring catastrophe, even if they don’t do anything? Jenna’s eyes narrowed as she sank into deep thought.
“F*ck off! You’re the only one like this!” Franca cursed, a mix of irritation and amusement.
In the past few months, most catastrophes in the market district had orbited around Ciel. What did it have to do with Jenna and me?
Wouldn’t that prove that 007 was right?
After discussing other matters, Lumian and Franca stepped out of 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches into the morning sun. One headed for Psychic’s headquarters on Rue Scheer in Avenue du Boulevard, while the other made her way to Trocadéro.
Lumian opted for a four-wheeled, two-seater rental carriage instead of the usual public carriage.
Outside the carriage window, street vendors hawked Whiskey Sour, meatloaf, freshwater fish, onion bread, spicy sauce, soybean paste, and various other items. Passersby either paused to make a purchase or briskly moved on. Some were clad as clerks, others in an array of differently colored workers’ uniforms.
After the riot of the previous night and the apocalyptic downpour, this place was once again alive with activity.
For Lumian, it was reminiscent of the market district of the past, but now, he was a wanted criminal again—in his identity as Ciel Dubois, a member of the Iron and Blood Cross Order and a leader of the Savoie Mob.
Salle de Bal Brise and the other establishments had undoubtedly been seized by the police headquarters. The Iron and Blood Cross Order’s grip on the market district had almost been eradicated.
Lumian found it regrettable as it meant losing a stable source of income.
However, after taking Ludwig in the previous night and informing Madam Magician about the information, he intentionally returned to Salle de Bal Brise before the chaos settled. He secured 30,000 verl d’or from the safe, bringing his total to 75,000 verl d’or and 1,000 gold.
Lumian’s mind wandered as he observed the passersby and listened to the vendors’ pitches.
After “reporting” the previous night’s matters to Mr. K and obtaining the Aurora Order Oracle’s approval, he planned to leave Trier for the Feynapotter Kingdom.
Before embarking on his journey, he had three priorities:
Firstly, he needed to locate Lugano Toscano, who had lost his job again, and inquire if he was willing to accompany him to the Feynapotter Kingdom’s Port Santa. This Sequence 8 Doctor, often journeying to the Feynapotter Kingdom, was fluent in highlander. Lumian, knowing only Intisian and ancient Feysac, risked communication challenges without him—having to resort to body language.
Secondly, he awaited Jenna and Anthony’s Major Arcana card missions to see if they could collaborate and assist each other.
Thirdly, he planned to use the messenger-related spirit world creature information that came with the Reaper formula from Madam Magician to attempt gaining a messenger. This would make future communication with Franca and others more convenient. Additionally, he had to perform a ritual to acquire one or two more contractual abilities.
…
On Avenue du Boulevard, at 19 Rue Scheer, beneath the luxurious beige house, Lumian met Mr. K once again in the basement.
The Oracle, his face concealed in hooded shadows, occupied a red armchair, his profound gaze fixed on Lumian.
“Last night, I entered Fourth Epoch’s Trier,” Lumian got straight to the point, hoping to capture Mr. K’s attention.
Mr. K’s hooded head nodded. “I know. Tell me the whole story.”
You know? Lumian was surprised. He recounted capturing Bouvard Pont-Péro during his revenge, and the subsequent events of how he, Franca, and company defeated Mirror Gardner, using the special mirror world to escape Fourth Epoch Trier.
Throughout the entire narrative, he shared only his experiences, avoiding any mention of Jenna and the others’ encounters or his speculations. For instance, he omitted details like the fortunate gold coin or Jenna’s prayer to Mr. Fool, stating only that he had inexplicably entered the world in the painting.
Similarly, he left out many specifics.
Mr. K listened attentively without interrupting Lumian’s account.
After Lumian mentioned the elimination of the Iron and Blood Cross Order’s market division and his exposed identity, Mr. K stood up and spoke in a hoarse voice, “No problem. Feel free to seek my assistance at any time.”
Without awaiting Lumian’s response, the Aurora Order Oracle turned around, knelt, and prostrated himself on the ground.
Mr. K’s face pressed tightly against the floor tiles as he muttered to himself, his thoughts incomprehensible.
Lumian waited in silence, refraining from interrupting Mr. K. The shadows around him deepened, as if unseen eyes were fixed on him, sending shivers down his spine.
Yet, he remained unfazed. It seemed normal for individuals from the Aurora Order to suddenly exhibit erratic behavior.
After an indeterminate period, Mr. K coughed violently, and blood spurted from the ground.
He looked up and spoke in a deep, frenzied voice, “Oh, merciful Father, I implore your mercy for my transgressions.”
After repeating this three times, Mr. K’s face pressed against the ground again, emitting sounds of chewing and devouring.
After performing these peculiar actions, he stood up and tapped four times—top, down, left, right—on his chest.
“What happened? Why the repentance?” Lumian asked curiously.
Mr. K rasped, “Our Aurora Order failed to react in time to last night’s catastrophe. Failing to cooperate with you in destroying the ritual was my dereliction of duty.”
“It’s not your responsibility,” Lumian replied, his lips twitching.
The Tarot Club’s actions had primarily propelled the Hostel’s plan forward. It was already commendable for the Aurora Order to swiftly discern what had occurred. There was no need for Mr. K to repent and shoulder the blame for the lapse.
Mr. K shook his head. “No matter the reason, failure to act is a sin.”
Do you have to be so responsible… You’re just a secret organization, not fanatical believers of the Eternal Blazing Sun… Lumian muttered silently.
As if sensing Lumian’s thoughts, Mr. K spread his arms wide and spoke with abnormal fanaticism, “Because our Aurora Order is born to bear all sin.”
I think you’re being too extreme… Lumian struggled to control his expression.
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