入室强性暴

Bang! Bang! Bang! He hammered on the door.

“I’m dying! I’m dying!” The wailing from inside grew frantic.

“I’m f*cking dying too!” Lumian spat, his face expressionless.

Startled by his response, the lunatic fell silent and offered no reply.

Lumian didn’t knock again. He produced a small wire he carried with him, inserted it into the keyhole, and fidgeted with it.

With a click, the grimy brown wooden door swung open.

Inside, Lumian found the madman, clad in a linen shirt and yellow pants, kneeling with his thick black beard nearly covering his eyes.

Lumian entered and casually closed the door. He crouched before the lunatic and lowered his voice.

“I’ve encountered the Montsouris ghost too.” The lunatic visibly trembled, his fear-filled blue eyes showing the faintest glimmer of lucidity.

After a few seconds, he caught his breath and asked in a deep voice, “Are you sure it was the Montsouris ghost?”

He’s in that state of intermittent lucidity Charlie mentioned? Lumian smirked and replied, “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you to confirm it.

“What did the Montsouris ghost you saw look like?”

With a shiver, the lunatic described, “A black shadow, like a lonely old man. Its back was slightly hunched, and it moved very slowly.

“After I spotted it, it vanished into the darkness. I didn’t realize it was the Montsouris ghost until my parents, my wife, and my children started dying one after another…”

It’s eerily similar to my experience… Lumian frowned, suspecting that he had indeed encountered the Montsouris ghost.

He contemplated for a moment.

“How did your family die? Were you attacked?”

The lunatic hastily shook his head.

“I-I often felt something watching me from the shadows. But I didn’t face anything else. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it this far.

“My child became gravely ill and died in the hospital. We had just cleansed and interred him in the catacombs when my wife-my wife, snapped and hanged herself in our room.

“That’s when I recalled the legend of the Montsouris ghost. I took my parents to the cathedral and asked the padre there to protect us.

“The Church took it very seriously and assigned three clergymen to stay at my home. Nothing happened during that time. I thought the nightmare was over.

“But after the New Year, the clergymen left. Soon after, my father strangled my mother and ended his own life with a table knife. I can’t remember much after that. Sometimes, I wake up and realize that I moved here at some point…”

The lunatic’s blue eyes revealed unmasked anguish. Lumian felt like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

“They said the Montsouris ghost would kill anyone who encountered it back then. But this lasted until the New Year.” Lumian keenly noticed the lunatic’s account differed from the legend.

The lunatic shook his head.

“I don’t know why it happened. I thought the nightmare was over. Otherwise, the three clergymen wouldn’t have left…”

A curse with no time limit until all targets are dead? Lumian formed a new hypothesis about the Montsouris ghost legend.

He stood up and told the lunatic, “I might have encountered the Montsouris ghost too. Let’s see which one of us lasts longer. If I figure out how to break this curse, you can pay me to help you.”

“A way, a solution…” The corners of the lunatic’s mouth twitched as he echoed Lumian’s words, caught between tears and laughter.

He raised his hands and clutched his hair.

“I’m dying, I’m dying!”

Lumian intended to ask the lunatic’s name, something to inscribe when he was laid to rest in the cemetery or catacombs, but he shook his head, opened the door, and left Room 310 instead.

Back in Room 207, Lumian sat on the bed, mulling over how to break the curse brought by the Montsouris ghost.

Although theoretically, the curse might not take effect until year’s end, leaving no urgency for now, Lumian couldn’t rely on the Montsouris ghost’s apparent delay. Moreover, he had no immediate family, so he stood a high chance of being the curse’s first victim. It could happen in the latter half of the year, next week, or even tonight.

Come to think of it, that man might still be alive. If the Montsouris ghost could help me kill him, I’d owe it a debt of gratitude… Lumian’s thoughts raced, and he suddenly laughed at himself.

In the dream, he had lied to Ryan and the others, claiming he’d forgotten his original name. He simply wanted to avoid mentioning or remembering it.

When he was young, his family had been well-off, but the man he called father turned out to be a philanderer and later a gambling addict.

His mother died from grief-induced illness, and his grandfather went bankrupt. They lived together in the slums until his grandfather’s death a few years later.

Thus, after being adopted by Aurore, Lumian had willingly asked to take her last name and change his own.

Lumian didn’t know if the man who had only provided genetic material was dead or alive. If he was dead, it was a blessing. If not, he hoped the Montsouris ghost would step up its game. As for himself, Lumian dared not assume the Montsouris ghost wouldn’t harm him just because he harbored the taint of an evil god and the mark of a great existence.

As long as it didn’t possess him, the ghost could do anything! According to Madam Magician, Lumian was convinced that many Beyonders and monsters could easily kill him, but they would have to face the ensuing corruption as a consequence. I’m not certain if this is a curse or not… But I can’t just sit here waiting for death. I have to take action… Aurore used to say that the best skill for the weak or underage is ‘finding their parents’… With this in mind, Lumian’s eyes brightened. He stood up and walked to the table to find a pen and paper.

He planned to update Madam Magician on the mission’s progress. Simultaneously, he would mention his encounter with the Montsouris ghost, questioning if he had been cursed and how to address the issue.

Though the woman with the Magician code name wasn’t his parent, she was undoubtedly his superior in the current circumstances. It was logical to seek assistance from his superior when in trouble!

Lumian pondered for a moment before writing: “Esteemed Madam Magician, “I have followed your instructions and gained Osta Trul’s trust. I’ve also requested his introduction to Mr. K’s mysticism gathering… “On my return from the catacombs, I regrettably encountered the legendary Montsouris ghost. Of course, I cannot be certain. “The specific legend is as such… “I seek to know if I have been cursed by the Montsouris ghost or if another influence is at play. How should I proceed?”

Towards the end, Lumian intentionally added the code name “Seven of Wands” to remind the recipient not to overlook his status as an external member of their enigmatic organization.

Lumian deduced this from the lady’s use of the tarot cards’ Magician code name and his Seven of Wands.

He suspected Madam Magician might belong to a clandestine organization symbolized by tarot cards and devoted to a powerful entity. The Major Arcana were official members, possessing formidable abilities. The Minor each Arcana served as peripheral members who undertook various missions.

After folding the letter, Lumian meticulously cleaned the room. He crushed a few bedbugs that had crept in from next door and disposed of them in the bathroom trash can. Once done, he lit the candle and conjured a spiritual barrier to summon Madam Magician’s messenger in his name.

Before long, the candle flame transformed into a deep blue hue.

This time, an arm-height, doll-like messenger in a light-gold dress materialized atop the flames, floating there.

Its unfocused, light-blue eyes scanned the surroundings before gently nodding. “Much better than last time.”

The voice was otherworldly and ghostly, far from human-like.

...

“Truth be told, I’m not fond of those bedbugs either,” Lumian chimed in.

The doll messenger smiled. “Right? No creature appreciates those pests!”

Lumian sensed a shared sentiment, as if both sides despised the same thing. With that, the doll messenger extended a pale-white palm, devoid of any skin texture, and the letter floated up.

Lumian watched the “doll” seize the letter and vanish like a bursting bubble. He sighed with admiration and thought, Having a messenger is so convenient… After concluding the ritual and tidying up the wooden table, Lumian returned to the bed, awaiting the messenger’s response. As time passed, the night outside deepened.

Songs echoed from the underground bar, but Lumian received no reply from Madam Magician. This made him furrow his brow. Does Madam Magician have other matters to handle and no time to read my letter?

I can’t keep waiting. I must devise other ways to protect myself…

Neither Hunter nor Provoker grant me the power to combat curses—if it is indeed a curse…

Dancer doesn’t either. Unless I genuinely pray to that concealed entity after the sacrificial dance. But how would that differ from suicide?

Ah, if I can’t pray to that hidden being, I can seek out that great existence!

I bear His seal upon me. I even obtained His permission when I claimed the boon. I’m not afraid to beseech Him again!

...

Yes, I can entreat Him to help me lift this curse.

Lumian acted swiftly, setting up the altar. Since Madam Magician hadn’t specifically outlined the ingredients for the great existence’s domain, Lumian believed that whatever he employed wouldn’t impact the final outcome, as long as it didn’t invoke other deities.

He arranged orange candles made of citrus and lavender. Two symbolized the deity, and one represented himself.

After completing the preparations, Lumian stepped back and examined the three yellowish candles. He recited in Hermes, “The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era, the mysterious ruler above the gray fog; the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck…”