639 Bribe

Lumian stood before the open mechanical elevator door, casting a glance at the slender shadow beside him. With raised eyebrows, he calmly turned his head, noting the sudden presence diagonally behind him.

The figure appeared as a tall, thin man draped in a complex, layered black robe. His face bore a pale-white complexion, as though untouched by sunlight for an extended period. Atop his black hair sat a fluffy black hat, its edge adorned with a gently swaying white feather.

Lumian retracted his gaze and entered the mechanical elevator. The tall, thin man with dark brown eyes following suit in silence.

Gripping the brass handle within with his right hand, Lumian selected the desired floor, pressing it down to B3, a definitive click echoing in response.

After Lumian selected his intended floor, the lanky man mimicked his action, opting for B18.

As they awaited descent, the distant sound of steam hissing reached their ears. Gears whirred to life, chains tightened, and the luxurious mechanical elevator began its gradual descent.

Throughout the journey, both remained eerily silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension.

Upon arrival at B3, Lumian departed without a backward glance, heading towards Suite 7 with purpose.

As the metal chains continued their retreat behind him, Lumian muttered thoughtfully to himself, Monsieur Iveljsta?

Iveljsta, residing in B18, harbored lifeless servants.

The peculiar appearance of Iveljsta and the condition of his servants led Lumian to suspect his association with a Wraith, a Sequence 5 Wraith of the Prisoner pathway.

The Prisoner pathway, controlled by the Rose School of Thought, held sway over temperance and indulgence factions, both intertwined with the secret organization. It seemed unlikely for a Wraith not to be affiliated with the Rose School of Thought.

Could it be a rare rogue Wraith, or perhaps the vanguard of the Rose School of Thought targeting Port Pylos? Lumian couldn’t discount the possibility of a temperance faction member. Yet, in the past few minutes, he discerned no evidence of Iveljsta’s protracted indulgence… Lumian resolved to detail his observations in Madam Magician’s letter.

Whether something was good or bad would be determined by professionals!

Returning to Suite 7, Lumian noticed Ludwig seated at the dining table, indulging in a feast from a ceramic soup pot with a silver spoon.

Atop the dish, a layer of cheese infused with egg juice charred in spots. Through the substantial hole Ludwig had carved, Lumian glimpsed a medley of pork, beef, fish, shrimp, shells, potatoes, and tomatoes stewed together. The rich aroma of spices mingled with the meats’ essence permeated the living and dining rooms, casting a spell that stirred his appetite.

Ludwig continued to eat in silence as Lugano stood up and asked, “Would you like some? This is the local Eseo. Different chefs choose different ingredients, and the taste will vary.”

Ludwig, without uttering a word, simply turned his head at Lugano before resuming his meal, quickening his pace.

Taking a seat beside Ludwig, Lumian smiled at the cheese-filled boy and said, “I was going to bring you a better supper, but I thought better of it.”

Confused, Lugano inquired, “What supper?”

“You don’t want to know,” Lumian responded with a Devil-like smile.

The supper he alluded to was Serial Killer Bram’s corpse.

Originally intending to bring a few pieces back for Ludwig to sample and discern any “nutrients” and information, Lumian reconsidered, aware of Bram’s limited knowledge about the Andariel family’s peculiarities. Thus, he abandoned the idea of feeding Ludwig out of prudence.

From Lumian’s observations, Ludwig could derive some strength from eating, releasing the seal. However, consuming a Sequence 7 Beyonder corpse might trigger a significant change. Lumian feared his own strength might not suffice to manage potential complications; Ludwig could potentially turn the tables and consume him as a delicacy.

Ludwig’s silver spoon paused briefly before he remarked, “If you didn’t bring it, why did you mention it?”

Oh, having a little tantrum? Lumian chuckled inwardly and said, “It’s to inform you that we’ve reached an adventurer’s paradise, a land of chaos. You’ll have ample opportunities for fine dining in the future.”

The implication was clear: do well, and I’ll remember to reward you with delicacies.

Ludwig, spooning a soft potato stew into his mouth, responded vaguely, “I’m not going to school.”

Does this mean that as long as he doesn’t go to school, everything else is negotiable? Of course, the prerequisite is that I have to pay with enough delicacies… Satisfied, Lumian rose and made his way to the washroom adjoining the master bedroom, where he washed up.

The brass faucet delivered warm water at a comfortable temperature.

Lumian soaked a towel, relishing the refreshing steam that enveloped his face, invigorating him.

Hotel Orella’s utilization of a steam engine to power its mechanical elevators and machinery ensured continuous hot water, a notable feature of its service.

…

The following morning, Lumian, sporting a golden straw hat, appeared on Cania Street beside Port Pylos’s Resurrection Square.

Once the ruling center for Intis colonists in Matani, the area bore remnants of its history with road signs and shop names in the Intisian language. Lumian effortlessly traced the path beneath the Intis parasol trees, arriving at a four-story beige house showcasing Intis’s opulent architectural style.

Signs adorned in Dutanese, Intisian, Highlander, Loen, and Feysac languages marked the building: “Port Pylos Patrol Team.”

Below the sign, five lines had the same meaning: “Only deals with paranormal events.”

Fully taking into account the needs of adventurers from different countries to report a case… Lumian playfully remarked as he entered the beige establishment.

Within the hall, devoid of occupants, Lumian found a receptionist casually perusing the day’s local tabloid from a lounging position.

The native, in his thirties with dark brown skin and black hair, possessed a slender face and dark brown eyes.

Approaching, Lumian addressed him in Intisian, “I want to report a case.”

The native glanced up, rising unsteadily. He opened a partition behind him, uttering a few incomprehensible words in Dutanese.

Lumian could barely understand him speaking in Dutanese.

“Someone who understands Intisian or Highlander…”

This won’t do. Since you don’t understand foreign languages, don’t waste time reading the newspaper. Study diligently… Maintaining a genial smile, he patiently awaited other patrol team members to appear.

Within a mere minute or two, a young man with fluffy brown hair, appearing as if he had fallen asleep without washing his hair the night before, swung open the door from the depths of the hall.

Dressed in a white shirt and an unbuttoned yellow vest, he strolled towards Lumian, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. In fluent Intisian, he inquired, “What case are you filing?”

Lumian assessed the young man, unmistakably hailing from the Northern Continent, cigarette in hand, and brownish-

yellow eyes. With a reserved smile, Lumian responded, “I found a killer.”

Amused, the well-defined young man gestured towards the door.

“For killers, go to the police on the opposite street.”

Opposite the patrol team stood Port Pylos’s police headquarters.

Maintaining his composure, Lumian reiterated, “He’s a serial killer.”

Serial killer… The young man with the cigarette muttered to himself, a shift in his demeanor indicating a sudden seriousness.

“How do you know?”

“I found many severed lips in his house—human lips,” Lumian disclosed with a reserved smile.

“Cut off lips?” The young man, yet to fasten his yellow vest, pressed with urgency, “Where’s his home?”

After a brief pause, Lumian replied, “I can’t spell the street name, but I can take you to the scene. It’s on a street near the Man-Eating Flower bar.”

Forcing himself to calm down, the young man took a drag on his cigarette, asking, “What about the killer? Did you see his face?”

“He’s dead,” Lumian truthfully responded.

Taken aback for a moment, the brown-haired young man queried, “How did he die?”

Lumian’s reserved smile transformed into a more open one.

“I killed him.”

The young man’s expression froze in disbelief.

He scrutinized Lumian for a few seconds before inquiring, “Are you an adventurer here to collect the bounty?”

Bram’s serial murders had prompted a local wanted poster issued by Admiral Querarill. However, the poster lacked a corresponding name or appearance, featuring only a case description due to the suspect’s unidentified status.

Smiling, Lumian replied, “Sort of, but you can also claim it.”

The young man furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“The bounty can be yours,” Lumian stated, making his intention to bribe clear.

The young man cast a glance at Lumian.

“What would you like in exchange?”

“I want the dossier on a serial murder case from four years ago and the relevant items you gathered,” Lumian disclosed openly.

There might be something among them that Ludwig could consume.

The young man fell into contemplative silence, assessing the pros and cons.

Eventually, he scratched his brown hair and said, “I can show you the case dossier and related items, but you can’t take them away. You can only copy them.

“Also, I need to confirm if it’s a Serial Killer at the scene.”

“Alright,” Lumian agreed, extending his right hand with a smile. “Happy working with you.”

The young man shook Lumian’s hand.

“Nice working with you. You can call me Camus. What about you?”

Lumian smiled once more.

“Louis Berry.”

As Camus entered the door deep in the hall, preparing to gather two teammates, he pondered, Louis Berry… Why does this name sound familiar…

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