After the band member and his mother got time off from René, Salle de Bal Brise’s manager, the drumbeats reverberated through the air, signaling the start of a new round of dancing.

Lumian turned his gaze to Jenna, who stood by his side, and spoke in a casual tone.

“I thought you would offer him some comfort. After all, you know him well and often collaborate with their band.”

Jenna, dressed in a stunning red sequined dress that revealed a generous amount of her chest, pressed her lips together and responded calmly.

“In that moment just now, what he needed wasn’t comforting words but a release. Offering condolences would only worsen his pain.”

Lumian scrutinized Jenna for a few moments.

“You seem to understand it quite well. Why do I have a feeling that you’ve experienced something similar yourself?”

Jenna lowered her gaze to her toes and smiled softly.

“A few years ago, I went through the same thing when my father passed away.

“One day, before dawn, my mother took me to the rooftop of our apartment and stayed with me until the sunrise. I witnessed the gradual brightening of the sky, from pitch black to a deep blue. It grew lighter and lighter, and I saw the clouds adorned with shades of bright gold and other colors.

“In that moment, she told me that darkness would eventually pass, and the sun would rise. Light would always find its way to illuminate the land.

“When he returns to the band, I’ll find an opportunity to share something similar with him.”

Lumian listened in silence, letting out a sigh. “You have a wonderful mother.”

“Yes.” Jenna accepted the compliment with pride.

Lumian chuckled and remarked, “You managed to say so much without resorting to curses. That’s unlike you.”

Moreover, she appeared rather refined.

“Damnit! Do you think I’m the type of person who curses incessantly?” Jenna cursed indignantly and made her way to the break room to prepare for the next song.

Lumian settled back at the bar counter, his mind preoccupied with another matter.

He had therapy scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and there was a possibility of Louis Lund showing up on Sunday.

What if he missed it?

Lumian’s initial impulse was to write a letter to Madam Magician and request her to check with his psychiatrist, Madam Susie, about the possibility of rescheduling the treatment by a day. However, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of his condition being unstable for the past two days. If he didn’t act promptly, he might face severe consequences when tracking down Louis Lund.

Even though Madame Pualis wasn’t exactly Madame Night, Lumian couldn’t confront her directly. His primary objective was to locate the survivor from Cordu and engage in a friendly conversation with her.

Lumian didn’t hold much animosity towards Madame Pualis. While she believed in an evil god and had involvement in Cordu, it appeared that she wasn’t responsible for the disaster. She had departed before the ritual took place under some compulsion.

Lumian didn’t concern himself with others’ beliefs, nor did he intend to.

Hence, if he allowed himself to become unstable and reacted impulsively, escalating the conflict with Madame Pualis and making her his enemy, matters would become exceedingly troublesome, and he might even lose his life.

As for the dispute with the Poison Spur Mob, a problem with Madame Moon didn’t equate to matters involving Madame Night.

After careful consideration, Lumian devised a plan to find someone who could track Louis Lund on his behalf and follow him to his residence in Trier.

There’s no need to consider individuals without Beyonder powers. They simply wouldn’t be able to keep up with him.

There are two viable options. The first is Anthony Reid, an information broker suspected of being a Beyonder from the Psychiatrist pathway. He possesses excellent tracking abilities and has already accepted my commission, receiving a deposit. Since the task involves locating Louis Lund, it naturally falls within the scope of the mission. If Anthony proves difficult, I’m prepared to offer more money.

The second option is Franca. She, along with Aurore, belongs to the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. Franca knows my true identity and displays a certain level of concern for me. She is trustworthy to some extent, not to mention that she still owes me a favor. Franca possesses enough power to tail Louis Lund and even intercept him if necessary. As these thoughts raced through Lumian’s mind, he rose from his seat, making his way to the bedroom on the second floor and leaving Salle de Bal Brise through the window.

…

Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 305.

Lumian knocked on the wooden door.

“Please come in,” Anthony Reid responded in a West Midseashire Coast accent.

The door slowly swung open.

The information broker stood before Lumian once more.

His plump face, once slick with oiliness, appeared freshly scrubbed, enhancing his air of honesty.

Wearing a grayish-blue worker’s uniform, he seemed to have spent the entire day in the southern part of the market district and Quartier du Jardin Botanique.

“I’ve read your note,” Anthony Reid said, running a hand through his receding light-yellow hairline. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Avenue du Marché.”

Lumian felt a slight unease, but he surveyed the room and spoke directly.

“I have other matters to attend to between 2:30 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. tomorrow. If you happen to spot the target during that time, don’t inform me. Simply follow him and ascertain his place of residence.”

Anthony Reid locked his dark brown eyes onto Lumian’s for a few seconds.

“Very well.”

He made no mention of an additional fee, and Lumian was content not to broach the subject either.

…

3 Rue des Blouses Blanches housed a relatively new apartment building. Its beige facade boasted a charming curvature, featuring numerous irregular walls adorned with a variety of statues. Angels, animals, celebrities, and legendary objects found their place amidst the architecture. The building boasted an abundance of large windows, wall pillars, and scroll art, creating an atmosphere of grandeur.

Lumian stood before Room 601 and pressed the doorbell.

With a jingling sound, Franca swung open the dark-red door.

Her flaxen hair cascaded naturally and voluminously, while she wore a loose white silk nightgown that gracefully reached her knees. The wide-open collar revealed a fair expanse of skin.

Observing that the other party showed no signs of wariness and wasn’t even wearing a bra, Lumian made a conscious effort to keep his gaze focused.

Before opening the door, Franca seemed to already know the identity of the visitor. She greeted him with a smile.

“Coming to seek knowledge in mysticism?

“After all our discussions, you’ve finally arrived.”

“No, it’s something else,” Lumian responded, gesturing towards the room, indicating that they should speak inside.

Franca turned and walked towards the sofa, Lumian following closely behind. As he entered, he instinctively scanned his surroundings.

This apartment consisted of two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen. The furnishings in the living room, such as the sofa, coffee table, dining table, chairs, and cupboards, were predominantly beige, iron-black, silver-white, or light gray. The colors were muted and lacked vibrancy. The overall aesthetic was one of simplicity and cleanliness, but it also exuded a touch of coldness. It stood in stark contrast to the living room styles found in most households.

Lumian took a seat on the edge of the divan while Franca curled her legs and reclined on the adjacent armchair, revealing her alluring curves.

“What brings you here?” Franca inquired.

Lumian pointed towards her.

“Aren’t you considering changing your clothes?”

Franca glanced down at her nightgown and came to a realization.

“Perhaps it’s because you know my original gender. When I’m around you, I always have this illusion that I’m still a man and forget to pay attention to such details.”

A smile played on her lips. Rather than changing her attire, she shifted her sitting posture, accentuating her allure even further.

After a few moments, she even left her recliner and settled beside Lumian.

Sensing Lumian’s perplexed gaze, she chuckled and remarked, “Since you won’t peek, why should I bother changing?”

She made a playful gesture, unreservedly teasing him.

“Madame, you have a wicked sense of humor.” Lumian sighed.

Franca grinned and replied, “Life is already tough. I need to seek some amusement for myself.

“But I’m considered fine. There’s a group of individuals in the Research Society who harbor little hope for the future and have made it their life goal to pursue enjoyment. They’ve formed a group called April Fools’ Day. Your sister must have mentioned it, right?”

“She did,” Lumian confirmed, recalling reading about it in Aurore’s grimoires.

Franca refrained from elaborating and fixed her gaze upon Lumian, her eyes resembling calm lakes, awaiting an explanation for his visit.

Lumian spoke directly, his words carrying a certain bluntness.

“I require a favor.”

“Oh?” Franca responded cooperatively, her tone laced with curiosity.

Lumian took a moment to contemplate before continuing.

“Considering you’ve seen my wanted poster, you must possess some knowledge regarding it.

“I’ve received information that one of the individuals depicted, a man by the name of Louis Lund, will make an appearance on Avenue du Marché tomorrow. He maintains close ties with the masterminds behind the Poison Spur Mob.

“My intention is to apprehend him and unveil the truth behind the catastrophe in Cordu. However, I’ll be preoccupied with crucial matters tomorrow afternoon, so I can’t personally await his arrival. I hope you could lend me your assistance. Should he show, tail him and ascertain his whereabouts. If you feel confident, aid me in capturing him. He once possessed Beyonder powers equivalent to a Sequence 8 and is likely a Gardener, though I cannot say for certain at present.

“After acquiring the mirror, you did promise to compensate me. This would be it.”

Franca retorted angrily, “This concerns Muggle’s death. I will most certainly help. Compensation is not an appropriate term in this context.”

“Tailing him doesn’t count. But attacking him counts?” Lumian proposed.

Discerning the underlying polite and detached nature of his request, Franca did not insist and simply nodded.

“That works too.”

Curiosity danced across her countenance as she posed another query.

“What could be more pressing than apprehending this individual named Louis Lund?

“I expected you to be more concerned about uncovering the truth behind Cordu.”

Lumian pondered briefly before speaking candidly, “The Cordu disaster has left me grappling with certain psychological issues. I am presently undergoing regular treatment. I fear that without timely follow-up, I will lose control of my emotions, thus jeopardizing my quest for the truth.”

Franca nodded sympathetically, displaying her understanding.

Taking the initiative, she offered a suggestion.

“Would you like me to find a genuine psychiatrist—one with Beyonder powers—for you?”

“My psychiatrist already possesses them,” Lumian revealed, withholding nothing.

Franca refrained from prying further, recalling that Muggle’s brother participated in other mystical gatherings.

Lumian mentioned the attributes of a Villain and a Gardener, as well as the existence of Anthony Reid. He provided a detailed description of Reid’s appearance to ensure Franca wouldn’t mistake him for a companion of Louis Lund, potentially leading to unnecessary conflict.

With that, Lumian rose from his seat, signaling his intention to depart.

Franca stood up, amused. “You’ve come all this way. Aren’t you interested in delving into the mysteries of mysticism?”

“Louise Lund may make an appearance tonight as well,” Lumian remarked, eager to return to Salle de Bal Brise as swiftly as possible.

At that precise moment, both he and Franca directed their attention toward the door.

Light footfalls resonated from the stairs before halting nearby.

Franca glanced at the peephole from a distance, her expression suddenly morphing into one of peculiarity.

In hushed tones, she addressed Lumian, “Jenna!”