Chapter 180 - 180 Lazy

180 Lazy

Gabriel took a sip of absinthe and spoke, “Maipú Meyer. He’s a theater manager with big ambitions. He aims to make Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons the most renowned theater in Trier. His ultimate goal is to be awarded the prestigious Intis Legion of Honor medal.”

The Intis Legion of Honor medal originated during the time of Emperor Roselle when he was still a Consul. It was created to replace the nobility system of the old royal family. However, when Roselle declared himself Caesar, the medal was abolished, and titles like dukes, counts, barons, and knights were reintroduced.

Later, when the Intis Republic was established, the Legion of Honor Medal was reinstated. It was given to both military personnel and civilians who made remarkable contributions to the Republic. It wasn’t limited to the military but included individuals from various industries. It was the highest honor in the current Intis Republic and being a recipient equated to being a knight from the past.

In the past, painters, authors, actors, journalists, and sculptors had been honored with the Intis Legion of Honor medal, serving as inspirations for future generations.

In the stories he crafted in his dream, he deceived the villagers of Cordu by claiming that Aurore was headed to Trier to receive the Legion of Honor medal. It wasn’t entirely implausible. If Aurore could become Intis’s renowned Fors Wall and the best-selling author on the Northern Continent, gaining recognition from L’Institut de Intis for her artistic achievements, she might have a genuine chance at obtaining the Legion of Honor medal.

Lumian chuckled and remarked, “If a person lacks dreams, they’re no different from salted fish.” He found Maipú Meyer, the theater manager, to be quite ordinary.

This led him to believe that the issues with Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons extended beyond the majority of the people. There were only a few individuals closely associated with the landlord of Auberge du Coq Doré, Monsieur Ive, who were peculiar.

After conversing with Gabriel for a while, Lumian guided Louis and Sarkota to the second floor and asked them to wait outside Room 207.

He closed the door behind him, took off his holster from under his left armpit, and stashed away the bullet bag. Then, he put on a dark jacket.

Without delay, Lumian retrieved Mr. K’s finger from beneath the pillow and slipped it into his right pocket.

As for Fallen Mercury, the dagger from Hedsey, the awakening gas, and the unidentified liquid, he always carried them with him. However, the bayonet served no immediate purpose, so he left it in a drawer of the wooden table.

Once he completed these actions, Lumian bent down and retrieved a brown suitcase from under the bed. He carefully placed Aurore’s grimoires inside.

Given his altered identity and the increased hostility from the Poison Spur Mob, he felt the need to secure these grimoires in a safer and more secluded location—the rented safe house on Rue des Blouses Blanches.

To Lumian, these items held precious clues and knowledge left behind by Aurore. They also possessed an irreplaceable sentimental value that required protection.

As for his daily studies, he would pre-copy a portion of the material and leave it at Auberge du Coq Doré or Salle de Bal Brise. Once he mastered it and ensured there were no issues, he would copy a few more pages at the safe house.

After turning down Louis’s offer to assist with his luggage, Lumian made his way back to Salle de Bal Brise and entered a room near the office.

He retrieved the grimoire he had been perusing recently and laid it out on the desk. Taking hold of a dark-red fountain pen, he commenced copying its contents onto a thick stack of white paper.

As he transcribed, Lumian found the task dreadfully dull. Ideas on how to avoid the monotony began to creep into his mind.

Soon enough, an idea struck him.

Why not summon that rabbit-shaped creature from the spirit world, the one who had previously written the report for him, and have it copy his notebook?

Though that creature was dim-witted and lacking in intellect, it proved obedient. It possessed a remarkable speed for copying and could imitate the original handwriting… In that case, all I need to do is provide spirituality while I indulge in reading newspapers and magazines, waiting for my homework to be completed. No, not homework… rather, copying notes… Lumian pondered momentarily before setting his fountain pen down and preparing for the summoning ritual.

Back in Cordu, upon finishing his sister’s daily assignments, Lumian often contemplated ways to slack off.

He had been teaching Reimund, Ava, and the others to comprehend words, hoping they could assist him with his homework as they improved.

Alas, the disparity in knowledge between them was too vast. It couldn’t be bridged without several years of effort.

Before long, Lumian arranged the altar, consecrated the ritual silver dagger, and erected a wall of spirituality.

As the fragrance of citrus and lavender wafted through the air, he gazed at the candle flame’s yellow hue and uttered in ancient Hermes:

“I!”

In the next second, Lumian switched to Hermes.

“I summon in my name:

“Spirit wandering in the void, a friendly creature that can be communicated with, weakling who can write Intisian…”

The candle flame swiftly transformed into a deep shade of green, expanding to the size of a human head.

Completing the remaining incantation, Lumian witnessed the emergence of a translucent and hazy figure from within the candle flame.

Standing at nearly 1.9 meters tall, it possessed the head of an ox atop a human body, garbed in brown fur clothing.

Not the rabbit… That’s right. There must be numerous spirit world creatures that fit the description of my summoning incantation. The one who responds to the summons is entirely random… Lumian experienced a mix of disappointment and anticipation as he pointed toward the grimoire.

“Copy it for me.”

The ethereal “minotaur” nodded faintly.

“Alright.”

Without delay, it seated itself, picked up the dark-red fountain pen, and commenced copying Aurore’s grimoire.

Not bad at all, much more intelligent than that silly rabbit… Lumian thought, his delight evident.

Just as he was about to settle into the recliner and peruse the newspapers and magazines, an unsettling feeling washed over him.

Isn’t the “minotaur” too slow? More than ten seconds have passed, and it hasn’t even copied a word!

No, in fact, it had only written two letters!

“Can you work any faster?” Lumian probed.

“This is already my fastest pace,” the “minotaur” responded truthfully.

“…” Lumian was at a loss for words.

It was even worse than the silly rabbit!

That creature, at the very least, functioned like a mystical typewriter. It could complete a full page of copying in less than a minute!

Lumian unconsciously considered ending the ritual and dismissing the “minotaur” before summoning another spirit world creature. However, knowing that the subsequent ones were likely to be equally peculiar, he abandoned the idea in weariness.

By the time the summoning ritual naturally came to an end, the “minotaur” had managed to copy only half a page.

Lumian rubbed his temples and made up his mind to do it himself.

After transcribing three pages, he heard a knock on the door.

“What’s the matter?” Lumian closed his notebook, set aside his fountain pen, and walked toward the door.

It was Louis outside.

In his rugged guise, he lowered his voice and said, “Boss, ‘Giant’ Simon is here.”

What could he want? Lumian recalled that “Giant” Simon was a leader of the Savoie Mob, overseeing a number of dance halls and bars on Rue du Rossignol. He was suspected to be a Beyonder of the Warrior pathway, with a high likelihood of being a Sequence 8 Beyonder.

Louis simply shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Lumian inquired, “What did he discuss with Brignais last time? It didn’t seem pleasant.”

Louis elaborated, “‘Giant’ Simon has always held a grudge against the baron because he controls Salle de Bal Brise.”

He instinctively used the term “baron.”

Observing that Lumian didn’t take offense, Louis continued, “Salle de Bal Brise’s profits surpass those of all his dance halls and bars combined. He even has a casino in his bar!

“The last time he approached the baron, he hoped that the baron would prevent some of the more attractive dancers from coming here and instead have them transferred to Rue du Rossignol. The baron replied, ‘Red Boots is in charge of assigning the dancers. I have no objections if you discuss it with her.’

“The prices on Rue du Rossignol are very low. Beautiful dancers are reluctant to work there.”

Lumian recollected Charlie mentioning that one could find inexpensive pussies on Rue du Rossignol for as little as 52 coppet, which amounted to just half a verl d’or. On the other hand, at Salle de Bal Brise, if the dancers encountered generous patrons, they could charge up to 10 verl d’or. Typically, they fetched anywhere between 3 to 5 verl d’or.

This was despite the relatively low income in the market district. If it were Rue de la Muraille in the Red Princess district, an above-average-looking woman would cost dozens of verl d’or.

Is “Giant” Simon envious of my control over Salle de Bal Brise? Lumian nodded subtly, his brows furrowing in puzzlement, and he asked, “There’s something I find rather perplexing. Why are Salle de Bal Brise’s profits so substantial?”

Louis grinned.

“Most of our alcohol comes from ‘Rat’ Christo. It’s tax-free and incredibly cheap.

“Moreover, we don’t have to pay any rent.”

“Rat” Christo who is in charge of the smuggling business? Lumian grasped the general reasoning behind it.

He exited the room, strolled along the corridor, and entered the café.

“Giant” Simon, still clad in a snug black formal suit, had his light-yellow hair tightly plastered to his scalp.

He set his wide-brimmed round hat on the table and positioned himself by the window, puffing on a cigarette.

The mobsters trailing behind him dispersed, engaging in an intense standoff with Sarkota and the others at Salle de Bal Brise from a distance.

Spotting Lumian approaching, Simon crushed the cigarette in his hand and put on a feigned wide smile.

“Well, well, Ciel, you’ve already gained the Boss’s approval and managed to get to run Salle de Bal Brise. Why didn’t you treat us brothers to a drink?”

As Simon spoke, he strode toward Lumian.

At over 1.9 meters in height, Lumian, who was already standing at 1.8 meters, appeared rather short.

Lumian gazed up at Simon’s prominent nose and pockmarked face, returning the smile.

“I have some sort of social phobia, so I couldn’t bring myself to invite you guys.

“Hey, you’re quite tall. Just as one would expect from a ‘Giant.’ You’re even taller than ‘Hammer’ Ait.”

His words conveyed a message of maintaining their respective territories. If you don’t provoke me, I won’t provoke you. Otherwise, I’m capable of killing you, just like the Sequence 8 Warrior, ‘Hammer’ Ait.

“Giant” Simon didn’t comprehend the meaning behind the first sentence, but he discerned the provocation in the latter.

His face darkened as a result, simultaneously dispelling his disdain for “Lion” Ciel.

This wasn’t merely a brawny man. Smiles and pleasantries wouldn’t get him far!

Simon gestured toward the table where Baron Brignais often sat.

“I need to discuss something with you.”