Chapter 2

Lumian held a carbide lamp and ascended the stone stairs one by one.

Before long, light appeared ahead, and the sounds of human chatter grew louder. To someone emerging from the silent underground, it felt as if the entire world had suddenly come alive. Lumian quickened his pace and, with his right hand holding the suitcase, turned the valve on the surface of the carbide lamp, stopping the water droplets from the upper cylinder from dripping onto the carbide below.

As the acetylene gas burned out, the flame at the metal nozzle gradually extinguished.

At this moment, the scene outside came into Lumian's view: the buildings, some tall and some short, seemed to have frozen just before collapsing, maintaining their tilted or precarious states while stubbornly standing firm.

On the streets, people wore either old or tattered clothes, and arguments and one-sided curses were everywhere, creating a noise that never seemed to cease.

Lumian stood at the exit of the underground area, looked left and right, and spotted a five-story building named "Golden Rooster Inn."

The top two floors of this light brown building appeared to have been added later, with a style vastly different from the lower three floors, which favored columns, arches, large windows, and decorative patterns. The upper floors looked as if they had been transplanted from Cordu Village.

Lumian, carrying his suitcase and carbide lamp, passed through a group of children searching for orange peels on the ground and adults loudly arguing, and walked to the entrance of the "Golden Rooster Inn."

He looked up and saw yellow phlegm, shredded paper, spilled ketchup, and alcohol stains on the floor. The ceiling and walls were occasionally crawling with large numbers of bugs. If he hadn't been holding anything, Lumian would have clapped at such a scene.

The old taverns in Cordu Village were much cleaner!

He sought a path with fewer stains and slowly approached the front desk.

A middle-aged, slightly overweight woman sat there, her grayish-white dress stained with oil, and her brown hair simply tied up at the back.

She lifted her head, her blue eyes scanning Lumian, not surprised by the disgust and resistance on his face: "In Chaos Street, in the Market District, this is the best and cheapest inn, but the owner is a detestable miser who doesn't hire regular cleaning maids and only has the place cleaned once a week."

"Is he also stingy with your salary?" Lumian asked with a naive and curious tone.

The middle-aged woman became angry: "Do you want to rent a room?"

"Yes," Lumian quickly replied, as if startled, "I want to know the price."

The woman calmed down: "It depends on what kind of room you want. The top two floors are 3 Ferkins per week, the lower two floors are 5 Ferkins per week. If you think it's too expensive, you can go up and knock on each door to see if anyone is willing to share their bed or sublet a space on the floor, which would cost about 1 to 5 Ferkins per week."

"I'll take a room on the lower two floors," Lumian chose, reasoning that whether he jumped out the window or used the stairs, it would be easier to escape from the lower floors.

The slightly overweight woman glanced at Lumian: "If you choose to pay the full month's rent in advance, it will only cost 15 Ferkins." Many people only stay for one or two weeks before moving to another place or leaving Trier.

"Here is heaven, and here is hell."

Lumian took out a stack of banknotes and pulled out three light blue bills.

Each bill was worth 5 Ferkins, with the front featuring a half-portrait of the first president of the Intis Republic, Levance, and farmers and herders at work, while the back showed the Honachis Mountains.

After receiving the full month's rent, the woman's expression visibly relaxed. She took out a pair of brass keys and tossed them to Lumian: "Room 207 on the second floor. There's a small restaurant on the first floor, and the basement is a tavern. There's sulfur in the drawer of the table to help you drive away those damned bugs. My name is Fels, and you can come to me if you have any questions."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fels," Lumian said, taking the keys, and carrying his suitcase and carbide lamp, he walked up the stairs to the second floor.

On the way, he saw many places on the walls covered with newspapers or cheap pink paper, layer upon layer, but some of the paper had come loose, revealing cracks and large numbers of bugs.

The second floor had eight rooms and two bathrooms, each room very narrow. On the right was a bed, and a table by the window was against the bed and the wall. In front was a chair with nearly broken legs.

Apart from these, there was no other furniture, but the ceiling was crawling with bugs.

Lumian, who had grown accustomed to cleanliness and tidiness with Aurore, put down his suitcase and carbide lamp, opened the drawer, and took out some sulfur, lighting it with a match.

In the strong and pungent smell, the bugs left the room and moved to other places.

A few seconds later, Lumian sniffed and smelled the same sulfur smell coming from the next room.

Purified land.

Almost simultaneously, some bugs returned to his room, seeking comfort. Lumian thought for a moment and understood what was happening: he had driven the bugs to the next room, and the tenant there was trying to drive them back with sulfur.

Lumian couldn't help but smile, bent down, and opened his suitcase, taking out paper and a pen.

In the strong sulfur smell, he sat at the wooden table and began to write a letter: "Dear Madam 'Magician':

"I have arrived in Trier as agreed. I wonder if you can tell me what to do next, which organization to join, and how to contact them...

"Are the two psychologists available recently? When can I receive treatment?

"What new clues do you have about Guillaume, Bene, and Mrs. Pouilles..."

After finishing the short letter, Lumian took out an orange-yellow candle from his sister's room.

As he lit the candle with his spirituality, a scent of citrus and lavender spread.

This made Lumian instinctively close his eyes, his expression gradually becoming calm.

After standing quietly for one or two minutes, he took out a silver ritual dagger, performed a sanctification, created a "Spiritual Wall," and dripped essential oil onto the candle.

After completing the preliminary steps, Lumian placed the "Magician" card on the altar.

This was the medium for summoning the messenger, making the vague incantation precise and unique.

Lumian took a step back, gazing at the slightly hazy orange-yellow flame, and recited in ancient Hermes: "I!"

An invisible wind began to swirl within the "Spiritual Wall," and the room's light dimmed slightly.

Then, Lumian switched to Hermes: "I summon in my name:

"The spirit that wanders in the realm of illusion, the upper-world being friendly to humans, the exclusive messenger of the 'Magician.'"

In the howling wind, the candle flame turned a deep blue, and the surroundings became eerie and cold.

Lumian focused on the candle, waiting for the "Magician" lady's messenger to appear.

He waited for several seconds, but there was no additional change.

At that moment, the letter on the altar, which was the wooden table, floated up into the air.

Lumian looked up in surprise and saw a "doll" the size of an adult's forearm sitting on the top of the flowered window.

The "doll" had long golden hair, light blue eyes, pale skin, and a delicate golden dress. Its features looked very human but were slightly exaggerated, making it quite eerie.

The next second, the letter landed in the smooth, shiny, and textureless hand of the "doll."

"Are you the 'Magician' lady's messenger?" Lumian asked for confirmation.

The "doll" slowly lowered its head, its unfocused and lifeless light blue eyes reflecting Lumian's image.

"Next time, choose a cleaner environment!"

As soon as he said this, the "doll" disappeared with the letter.

Lumian stood there for two seconds, then whispered to himself: At the same time, he saw a large number of dead bugs on the floor.

His room was now free of all kinds of pests.

"This is more effective than sulfur..." Lumian touched his chin and ended the summoning ritual.

He habitually cleaned the room, squatted beside his suitcase, and took out his toiletries.

Aurore's dark-colored witchcraft notes lay quietly at the bottom of the suitcase.

During the journey to Trier, Lumian had roughly flipped through them and found nothing suspicious. After all, Aurore was not one to keep a diary or record her moods and trivial matters. Her witchcraft notes were just notes, filled with various esoteric knowledge, copied incantations, symbolic patterns, and material selection principles for many spells.

Perhaps because Aurore liked to keep records, most of the spells were annotated with the time, place, and amount of money or items used to exchange for them.

This allowed Lumian to know that the "Curly Baboon Research Society" had multiple interest groups, and Aurore often attended gatherings of the "Academy," from which she obtained many spells. Additionally, she occasionally participated in exchanges with other groups, such as obtaining some esoteric knowledge and spells from the "April Fool's Day" group.

Given that these notes seemed to have no issues, Lumian could only continue his investigation by receiving treatment from the psychologists, finding the parish priest, and Mrs. Pouilles.

Of course, he also knew that his sister would not mention the notes without reason at the last moment, and they must contain some important information she wanted to convey.

Looking at the dark-colored notes, Lumian decided to start learning the things his sister had recorded, in reverse order, from tonight.

After tidying up his luggage, Lumian heard his stomach growling.

He stood up and looked out the window, seeing his reflection in the twilight glass: his hair was dyed golden, a bit longer, and his features were not much altered, but with a white shirt, black vest, dark suit, and a cold, indifferent expression, he looked much older. Even if he met the parish priest Guillaume Bene, he would only feel a sense of familiarity.

Lumian patted his face, making a smile gradually appear, then opened the door and walked out.

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