395 Progress on the Other Side
Anthony Reid, the middle-aged psychiatrist, observed Lumianâs smile and mused, âYour performance suggests that this matter is personal to you.â
Anthony Reid continued, âYour smile and actions betrayed a sense of smugness.
âAnd your reaction tells me this matter is deeply intertwined with you.â
Could it be discerned even without mind reading? It wasnât 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, âIâm telling you directly how Iâve interpreted your cues. In the future, when you find yourself facing a Psychiatrist and wish to deceive them, itâs best to prepare your emotions in advance and mentally rehearse your narrative as if it were genuine.
âIf youâd rather not discuss the strange aura on Rue des Blouses Blanches, thatâs perfectly fine. I donât have the energy to gather information and trade it for money.â
Lumian contemplated Anthonyâs words and nodded gently. He then inquired, âHowâs your investigation into General Philip going? Do you require our assistance?â
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, âGeneral Philipâs widow, child, and his closest friends during his lifetime donât seem to be a concern. They are leading normal lives.
âHowever, Iâve discovered that General Philipâs 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.â
Lumian pondered for a moment and asked, âQuite generous. What can you tell me about the Dreamseekers charity?â
Anthony Reid replied, âThatâs 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. Itâs a private charity primarily funded by donations from high society.â
Lumian smiled and issued a warning with a hint of mockery, âBe cautious when delving into the Dreamseekers. Of course, if you happen to be reckless, it wonât matter. At the very least, Iâm 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.â
Anthony Reid stroked his light-yellow hair.
âDonât worry, Iâm timid and value my life. I duck for cover at the sound of gunfire. If I ever sense danger, I wonât be too proud to seek your assistance. Besides, this is what you promised me.â
Without waiting for a reply, he continued, âGuillaume BĂ©netâs wife has been residing at 20 Rue des Terraces in the library district and hasnât attempted to relocate.
âIâve bribed some ordinary folks around her. Recently, theyâve informed me that a mysterious man occasionally visits her late at night, raising suspicions of an affair.â
Condiment Beauty Paulina⊠Her decision to stay put on Rue des Terraces likely means she feels more secure now. Combined with the neighborhood rumors, thereâs a strong likelihood that she has reestablished contact with Bouvard Pont-PĂ©ro of the Sinners organization⊠Lumian smiled once more.
âInstruct your informants to compile a summary of the mysterious manâs visitation patterns. This way, we can catch them in the act more precisely.â
It was imperative to apprehend the Sinnersâ liaison, Bouvard Pont-PĂ©ro!
Only then could Lumian hope to trace the Sinners organization and locate Roche Louise Sansonâs 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 Sansonâs 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 couldnât 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 Foolâs teamâs 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 Sansonâs 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 Foolâs 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 Lumianâs patience in waiting for the mysterious man who had visited Guillaume BĂ©netâs wife to provide more clues.
âŠ
Avenue du Marché, Salle de Bal Brise.
Just as Lumian reached the staircase, he spotted Sarkota waiting there.
âThe Boss is upstairs,â Sarkota whispered.
He had been a part of Baron Brignaisâ 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!
Whatâs the Boss doing here? Lumianâs 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, âWhere did you go?â
Lumian responded with candor.
âI had a chat with Anthony Reid, the information broker. I assigned him a mission: keeping tabs on the widow of Guillaume BĂ©net, the enemy I just dispatched, and observing her associates.
âI suspect that Guillaume BĂ©net might be backed by a secret organization that worships an evil deity.â
Gardner Martin chuckled and remarked, âYouâre not leaving any room for mercy, are you? Youâre even more ruthless than I thought. Yes, we can enlist the authoritiesâ assistance to deal with these secret organizations of evil gods.â
Without allowing Lumian a chance to reply, he inquired further, âDid you sense that menacing and terrifying presence last night?â
Lumian nodded honestly.
âI felt it.â
I was present at the sceneâŠ
Recalling the sensation coursing through his veins when he resonated with the Blood Emperorâs aura, he added,
âBack then, my blood seemed to be on fire.
âI wanted to investigate the origin of that aura, but the official Beyonders were quicker and sealed off Rue des Blouses Blanches.â
âWhen the official Beyonders are less vigilant, pay a visit to 6 Rue des Blouses Blanches and do some digging. You might stumble upon something.â
âAlright,â Lumian agreed readily.
A return to the crime scene promised its own brand of intrigue.
âŠ
Late at night, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches, Apartment 601, Francaâs room.
Sitting beside the typewriter and radio transceiver, the Demoness of Pleasure perused the information before turning to Jenna, who sat by her bedside.
âThe 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. Heâs sinister and powerful. Not only did he detect our surveillance, but he also traced us back and launched an ambushâŠâ
Franca skipped over the part about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and recounted the entire incident.
In this narrative, Helaâs identity had been that of a formidable Beyonder hired through a mysticism gathering.
Franca spread her hands and said, âI 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.â
Jenna was astounded by the capabilities and performance of a Marionettist. She tensed, feeling the summer night grow colder.
Seeing Jennaâs reaction, Franca seized the moment to add, âBut thereâs something even more chilling!â
She proceeded to recount everything she knew, sending shivers down Jennaâs spine. Jenna involuntarily took a few steps closer to Franca.
âDammit, what else have you guys been up to that I donât know about?â Jenna mustered her courage, spewing out a few choice expletives.
âItâs not us, itâs Ciel!â 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.
âHidden Blade, do you have any information about the terrifying aura in the market district last night?â
Franca typed out her response,
âI donât reside in the market district. Why would I know anything about it?â
007 quickly replied, âMost 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 havenât set foot there in the past six months, Iâll eat my own hat!â
Franca chuckled dryly and responded, under Jennaâs watchful gaze. âI do have some knowledge about this incident.
âBut I canât spill the beans right now. Youâll get the scoop at our next gathering.â
âŠ
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 âconfessionsâ from the April Foolâs team members.
Just before midnight, the pure silver skull emerged from the shadows, its teeth gripping a thick stack of papers.