Lumian quickly scanned Madam Magician's message, committing the essential points to memory.
It was evident that the first and third solutions to the Montsouris ghost dilemma were jokes. The only viable option was the second: using Fallen Mercury to swap his fate of encountering the Montsouris ghost.
In all honesty, Lumian hadn't considered stabbing himself with Fallen Mercury to proactively change his destiny. Only when he was cornered by the Montsouris ghost, teetering on the brink of death, did this desperate strategy surface in his mind.
Time was of the essence, and Lumian had to act fast. He'd only managed to exchange his fate of being attacked by the Montsouris ghost, not completely avoiding one. He'd narrowly escaped the first crisis but still lingered in death's shadow.
Given the choice, Lumian would have still opted to exchange the fate of being attacked by the Montsouris ghost instead of just encountering one. The attack had already occurred, and he couldn't be sure it would cease with a mere fate swap. He needed the most reliable plan to save himself.
In simpler terms, what if the Montsouris ghost killed him and realized it had never met him and targeted the wrong person?
I need to find someone to trade the fate stored in Fallen Mercury for a better one. Then, I'll prepare thoroughly, and when I'm ready, I'll stab myself to complete the exchange. I'll seal the Montsouris ghost encounter inside Fallen Mercury... Lumian combined his experience with Madam Magician's advice and quickly devised a way to escape his predicament.
When the time came, Fallen Mercury, also known as the Cursed Blade, would cause whoever was stabbed to suffer the fate of their entire family dying, including themselves.
The drawback was the time it would take for the effect to occur.
Lumian drew Fallen Mercury from his waist, eyeing the blade wrapped in black cloth. He felt the Beyonder weapon's potential more acutely than ever.
He seriously contemplated finding experts to repair Fallen Mercury. Otherwise, the enchanted dirk would only last until year's end.
Maybe Mr. K's Beyonder Gathering could provide the resources he needed.
My suspicion is correct. Madam Magician's intention for me to meet Osta Trul is to use him to attend Mr. K's Gathering and join the secret organization behind it… Lumian donned a wide-brimmed hat and a black shirt resembling formal attire before leaving Room 207 and descending the stairs.
As a Hunter, he needed to start his search for prey.
Upon exiting Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian spotted Charlie sitting on the three-story staircase leading to the street. Pale-faced, he gazed at the sky, melancholic, with a lit cigarette in his right hand.
"What's wrong?" Lumian asked, casually sitting beside Charlie.
Charlie didn't look back. He inhaled from his cigarette and sighed.
"I feel like I've lost my soul. It's gone."
He wore a white shirt, red vest, and a black suit jacket draped over his left arm—a hotel uniform.
Lumian grinned and got to the point.
"Did you sleep with that older woman?"
Charlie turned to Lumian and emphasized, "Please call her Madame. She's only in her fifties."
He took another drag and exhaled a smoke ring.
"Did you know? She gave me a diamond necklace worth at least 1,500 verl d'or. I couldn't resist. She was so dazzling and seductive that she went straight to my heart."
"It," Lumian corrected.
Charlie smiled sheepishly.
"Madame Alice is captivating too. It's quite a feat to maintain her elegance at her age. She mentioned she'll stay in Trier for six months and can offer me 500 verl d'or a month…"
As he spoke, Charlie's voice grew somber, and his eyes took on a melancholic hue.
Just as Lumian thought Charlie would sigh over his lost soul, a long exhale escaped him.
"Why can she only stay for half a year…"
Lumian patted Charlie's shoulder, saying earnestly, "Take care of yourself."
Charlie's eyelids twitched.
"There's a need for moderation. Madame Alice is far too enthusiastic. I was so exhausted last night that I didn't even have that beautiful dream."
Lumian chuckled and said, "You openly mentioned obtaining a diamond necklace worth 1,500 verl d'or. In Rue Anarchie, that's enough wealth to make many people go mad. Aren't you afraid I'll steal it?"
Charlie laughed.
"I had to share it with someone, or I'd feel awful.
"I've noticed you don't seem short on money. You're even quite generous. You wouldn't commit a crime for a mere 1,000 to 2,000 verl d'or."
Lumian grinned, retorting, "Is there a chance I'm pretending not to lack money to lure someone like you into lowering your guard?"
Charlie's expression froze as the dying cigarette nearly burned his fingers.
Lumian changed the subject, asking casually, "Is there anyone you despise so much that you think they deserve to die?"
Charlie snuffed out his cigarette on the stone steps, puzzled, "Why do you ask?"
He intended to pocket the extinguished cigarette butt but decided against it, tossing it aside instead.
A nearby vagrant darted over, grabbing the warm cigarette and taking a few drags.
Without waiting for Lumian's response, Charlie continued, "The person I despise most is our head attendant. You've no idea how detestable he is. Haha, I've never thought of wanting him dead, but I just wish I could hood his face and beat him up one day.
"I don't think many people truly deserve to die. One is Baron Brignais, the market district's Savoie Mob leader. He colludes with loan sharks, driving many to bankruptcy. A friend of mine jumped off a building in desperation. But what did that accomplish? His son vanished mysteriously, and his daughter was forced into the Salle de Bal Brise. Although she's supposed to only sing, in reality, well…"
"That's right. If he had the courage to kill himself, why didn't he think of a way to kill Baron Brignais and the others?" Lumian nodded slightly.
Charlie stared at Lumian, taken aback.
"Your thoughts are a little extreme."
He added, "The second person deserving death is Margot, leader of the Poison Spur Mob. He manipulates people into swindling women new to Trier. After bleeding them dry, he forces them into prostitution. That's how Miss Ethans in Room 8 on the fourth floor ended up in the motel. Most of the money she earns is taken by Margot. She's tried to escape several times, but she's been beaten within an inch of her life before she could leave Rue Anarchie."
Market district has quite a few mobs. No wonder it's chaotic at night… Lumian glanced at Charlie, saying, "It sounds like you sympathize with Miss Ethans."
Charlie puffed out his chest.
"True Intis gentlemen empathize with ladies in tragic situations and offer help when appropriate."
Lumian tersely acknowledged.
"Do you know where Margot lives?"
"I don't know." Charlie shook his head. "But he frequents the motel in the evenings, extorting money from Miss Ethans. If you hear a woman crying, shouting, and cursing on the fourth floor, that's Margot and his thugs."
Lumian nodded pensively and inquired, "Who else do you think deserves to die?"
Charlie considered for a moment, replying with a contorted expression, "Monette, that Islander. He swindled me out of 10 verl d'or!
"Can you imagine? I'd been unemployed for some time and hadn't found a new job yet. That was my last bit of savings. I nearly starved to death because of him!"
"Where does he live?" Lumian asked nonchalantly.
"He was staying at the motel initially. But after scamming me, he moved out. I don't know where he went." Charlie's anger flared as he spoke. "I was waiting for him to hook me up with a job…"
Once he'd calmed down, Charlie eyed Lumian quizzically, "Why's your hair different?"
There were strands of varying lengths, gold mingled with black.
"Don't you think it's rather stylish?" Lumian asked earnestly.
Charlie snorted, his expression dubious.
His experience with the Idiot Instrument made him instinctively question Lumian's intentions in such matters.
After a few moments, Charlie glanced at the street vendors and waved his hand.
"I've got to head to the hotel. I'll see you tonight."
Lumian stayed put on the stone steps outside the hotel, waving at Charlie's retreating figure.
…
That afternoon, Lumian took a public carriage to Quartier du Jardin Botanique. After walking over 300 meters, he reached Mason Café.
The café occupied the ground floor of a beige four-story building near the botanical garden.
Green plants twined around the building's exterior. The ground-floor shops were set back nearly a meter, with pillars supporting an outer walkway for pedestrians.
Mason's Café boasted dark green walls and large windows. Sunlight streamed through the glass, illuminating the tables and chairs outside.
Lumian, dressed in a dark suit and wide-brimmed hat, entered the café.
The first thing he noticed were the intricate plant sculptures on the wall, interspersed with Intisian sentences:
"Who holds supreme power in the country? The president or parliament?
"It's a café!
"Who has the final say in a legal case? The Supreme Court?
"It's a café!
"Who's the authority in literature? L'Institut de Intis or the Journal des débats?
"No, it's a café—always a café[1]!"
[1] Adapted from the opening chapter of "Histoire Insolite des Cafés Parisiens" which was used in an early 21st-century bibliography. The original text was too lengthy, so it has been condensed.
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