Hugues Artois? Lumian never anticipated such a response.

Did the competing Savoie Mob and the Poison Spur Mob really endorse the same candidate?

If Hugues Artois succeeded, would he assist the Poison Spur Mob in dealing with the Savoie Mob? Or would he aid the Savoie Mob in completely overthrowing the Poison Spur Mob? Or would he demand peace between the two factions?

The more Lumian pondered it, the more he sensed that something was amiss.

If the influential figure behind both the Savoie Mob and the Poison Spur Mob was none other than Hugues Artois, then the two sides wouldn’t have become bitter enemies to this extent!

Though Lumian played his part, wasn’t he acting under the blessings of the Boss and Baron Brignais?

Furthermore, Hugues Artois wasn’t an elected member of parliament. What authority did he have to protect both the Savoie Mob and the Poison Spur Mob?

The only plausible explanation was the machinations of the Enlightenment Party, but it made no sense for them to incite two rival mobs to fight each other to the death.

Lumian, lacking experience in this area, failed to find an answer even after considerable thought. All he could do was sigh with regret.

I can’t employ the Savoie Mob’s men to secretly intimidate voters into not supporting Hugues Artois!

He glanced at Louis, his confusion evident as he asked, “Why was I unaware that our Savoie Mob is backing Hugues Artois?”

Louis immediately grew tense.

“I assumed the baron had apprised you, Boss.”

Wasn’t that the purpose of the handover?

Baron Brignais was in a foul mood after losing the Salle de Bal Brise, so he couldn’t be bothered to inform me about many things. In any case, I’ll find out when I need to know? Lumian mumbled inwardly as he departed from Salle de Bal Brise and returned to Auberge du Coq Doré.

He proceeded directly to the third floor and made his way to Room 5, the dwelling of Anthony Reid, the information broker. Extending his hand, Lumian knocked on the wooden door.

Knocks reverberated, yet no response came.

He must not be present… That makes sense. How can an information broker stay holed up at home all the time… Lumian retrieved a note and fountain pen he carried with him and wrote on the note, using Anthony Reid’s door as a surface:

“I’ve received intel that Louis Lund will be seen on Avenue du Marché from Saturday to Sunday. Keep a close watch on him. As soon as you spot him, notify me without delay. You can find me either in Room 207 at the motel or at Salle de Bal Brise. The agreed payment will be made promptly when the time comes.

“Ciel.”

After sliding the note through the crevice of Room 305’s door, Lumian returned to Salle de Bal Brise and settled in the café, patiently awaiting feedback.

As twilight descended, a gangster positioned near 126 Avenue du Marché dashed back to the dance hall, racing up to the second floor.

Has Louis Lund been discovered? Lumian rose from his seat, eyeing his subordinate.

The mobster appeared inexplicably anxious, as if a famished lion had set its sights on him.

Without waiting for Lumian to inquire, he stammered in haste, “Boss, th-this is bad! I saw, I saw a group of police officers heading toward the depot!”

The depot? Isn’t that under the boss’s ownership? Ah, near the depot lies the warehouse belonging to “Rat” Christo… Could Franca’s “report” have taken effect? Lumian swiftly contemplated a possibility.

This left him disheartened.

In his eyes, the mirror people and any potential harm they might bring couldn’t hold a candle to a single strand of Louis Lund’s hair!

Suppressing his emotions and residual excitement, Lumian spoke to his subordinate, “Understood. I’ll handle it. Return to your original post and remain vigilant for the person depicted in the wanted poster. In half an hour, I’ll send four others to relieve you.”

“Yes, Boss.” The gangster heaved a sigh of relief and made his way downstairs.

As Lumian watched him disappear, he gazed down at his trembling hands.

They still quivered slightly.

It was a result of the sudden surge of exhilaration he experienced when he thought his subordinate had brought news of Louis Lund.

At times, my emotional stability wavers… Fortunately, I have another psychiatric session scheduled for this Sunday… Lumian sighed inwardly, taking a seat and savoring his coffee.

In order to welcome Louis Lund in his finest state, he had refrained from ordering alcohol.

…

Outside the warehouses belonging to “Rat” Christo.

He, along with his subordinates and the porters, had gathered together, encircled by 20 to 30 armed police officers donning black uniforms.

Christo forced a fawning smile and addressed Superintendent Travis Everett, saying, “Monsieur Superintendent, why have you suddenly surrounded the warehouses? I’m a legitimate businessman!”

Everett, a man in his thirties with black-framed glasses and a broad chin, regarded Christo and spoke in a deep voice, “Do not assume that we are unaware of your usual dealings. We are not dealing with you because you abide by the rules and know what is permissible. Your only choice now is to cooperate with us and aid us in unraveling this as swiftly as possible.”

Christo detected a glimmer of hope in Superintendent Everett’s words and nodded.

“Alright, alright, no problem!”

He had already distributed the batch of goods from yesterday. As long as the genuine account books were not discovered, there was no concrete evidence to accuse him.

With his short black hair, Everett turned to the man standing beside him and said, “Monsieur Deputy Assistant Commissioner, you may proceed.”

The man had a rugged appearance, sporting fluffy blond hair, golden eyebrows, and a beard. He wore a slightly smaller black police uniform, but his buttons were crafted from gold.

Adorning his epaulet was a silver-white seven-petal scented iris, accompanied by an off-white diamond square.

This emblem indicated the rank of Deputy Assistant Commissioner.

The police department in Trier had four ranks, in ascending order: Chief Superintendent, Deputy Assistant Commissioner, Assistant Commissioner, and Deputy Commissioner.

Of these, there was only one Deputy Commissioner—the head of Trier’s police department. Across the entire Intis Republic, the minister of the National Police Department, a Commissioner, held a higher rank.

The Assistant Commissioner and Deputy Assistant Commissioner served as Trier’s Police Department’s Deputy Minister and Police Committee members. Their epaulets displayed off-white diamond squares beside the seven-petaled irises. There were four Commissioners, three Deputy Commissioners, two Assistant Commissioners, and one Deputy Assistant Commissioner, with no Chief Superintendents.

In other words, this uncouth man with blond hair and a golden beard held an equal rank to Aymerck, the Police Committee member in charge of the entire Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman. However, Christo was entirely unfamiliar with him.

“Just call me Angoulême,” the rugged Deputy Assistant Commissioner replied succinctly.

His gaze swept across Christo, Erkin, and the others, inexplicably making them feel as if they were staring at the blinding sun, forcing them to lower their heads.

Angoulême averted his gaze and instructed the plain-clothes team behind him, “You may bring that object forward now.”

Two team members approached the nearby four-wheeled carriage and unveiled a wide, flat, and sizable object covered in a black velvet curtain.

They positioned the object beside Angoulême.

Angoulême locked eyes with “Rat” Christo and the others, subtly raising his chin, and uttered,

“Line up in front of me, one by one.”

Christo sensed the kid in his pocket trembling visibly. He surmised that Angoulême was an official Beyonder, someone of considerable power.

After a few moments of contemplation, he approached Angoulême fearfully, not daring to resist.

Suddenly, Angoulême pulled open the black velvet curtain, revealing the complete appearance of the object beside him.

It was a full-body mirror, simple and unadorned, mounted on a stand of rusted iron-black.

Christo’s reflection appeared instantly in the mirror, capturing every detail.

Christo remained unaware of anything amiss, but Erkin’s expression underwent a drastic change behind him.

Erkin abruptly turned to the left, attempting to escape.

Almost 20 others followed suit, including laborers and porters.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Angoulême’s team had already prepared, raising their arms and squeezing the triggers.

Bullets struck those fleeing, but it was as if they struck an illusion, passing through them and landing in the distance.

Angoulême calmly extended his left hand and adjusted the position of the full-body mirror beside him.

The mirror reflected Erkin’s figure against a dark background.

Erkin froze in place, maintaining his running posture.

In an instant, he was drawn towards the full-body mirror, a look of horror etched on his face.

As soon as the two collided, Erkin’s body vanished.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared in the mirror, his face stained with blood. His expression turned sinister, consumed by hatred and resentment.

He opened his mouth as if to scream, but an invisible force pulled him into the unnaturally dark backdrop of the mirror, and he vanished.

Witnessing this, Christo stood dumbfounded, forgetting to aid his brother.

One thought echoed in his mind: There’s something terribly wrong with them…

Meanwhile, Angoulême’s subordinates worked to control the fleeing individuals. The ordinary people caught in the midst of the chaos cowered on the ground, heads lowered, trembling with fear.

…

In Salle de Bal Brise, Lumian sat at the bar counter, listening to Jenna’s captivating singing. Two hours ago, he had received news that “Rat” Christo was unharmed, but a group of his subordinates had perished.

Quite efficient… Lumian inwardly commended the official Beyonders in the market district.

As the risqué song came to an end, a woman who had been waiting on the sidelines took the stage and hurriedly approached a young band member. She sobbed and cried out twice.

It seemed she was delivering news of someone’s death.

The band member stood frozen, shocked by the news, unable to react for a moment.

After a few seconds, he flung aside the six-string zither strapped to him and dashed off the stage.

However, he only managed a few steps before he stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. He struggled to rise but failed.

In the next moment, tears streamed down his face.

Jenna, adorned in a shimmering red dress, observed him for a few seconds before pressing her lips together. Eventually, she didn’t offer consolation, allowing the band member and the grieving woman to weep.

She quietly stepped down from the stage and crossed paths with Lumian, who had left the bar counter.

“What happened?” Lumian inquired.

Jenna let out a soft sigh and replied, “His father passed away in an accident a few hours ago. I know him. Learning to play a musical instrument hasn’t been easy for him. His father works as a porter, and his mother is a dishwasher. Without their unwavering support, he would be limited to manual labor…”

An accident a few hours ago… A porter… Lumian roughly pieced together the cause.

He gazed silently at the stage.