入室强性暴

No issues this time!

Completing three consecutive spirit world creature summoning rituals had left him feeling drained.

After a moment’s consideration, Lumian asked the rabbit-like spirit world creature, “Can you do me another favor?”

The “rabbit” thought seriously for a few seconds before giving a slow nod.

Lumian unzipped his grayish-blue work uniform.

“Then follow me first.”

The ethereal and transparent “rabbit” leaped from midair to Lumian’s side, assuming the role of a loyal companion.

Lumian sighed quietly and said, “What I mean is, you can hide inside my clothes to avoid detection by any Beyonder with heightened spiritual perception.”

The “rabbit” wore a blank expression as it hopped into Lumian’s clothes and curled up.

Since it had no true mass or weight, his clothes could be zipped up quickly without leaving a trace.

After stowing the letter in the same pocket, Lumian dissolved the spiritual barrier, removed his gloves, and exited Room 207.

He meandered toward Avenue du Marché, nearing the Suhit steam locomotive station.

It was just past five o’clock, and many people were still at work. The street was neither crowded nor deserted. Groups of passersby headed for the public carriage station sign or searched for the subway entrance. They carried their luggage and walked on foot to nearby streets in search of temporary accommodations for the night.

Lumian patted his right pocket and pointed at the postbox several dozen meters away. Lowering his voice, he said, “See that green metal cylinder?”

He felt a vibration in his pocket. The “rabbit” had responded in kind.

Lumian exhaled in relief and instructed, “Place the letter beside you in that metal cylinder.”

Having said that, Lumian massaged his temples and activated his Spirit Vision.

He watched the “rabbit” emerge, enveloping the plea for help. It maneuvered through the crowd and reached the green metal cylinder.

Just as Lumian thought the “rabbit” would deposit the letter in the postbox and successfully complete the mission, the creature entered the postbox with the letter.

Moments later, it exited the postbox and flew back to Lumian, leaving the letter inside.

Lumian closed his eyes and consoled himself, I suppose it’s considered tossed in…

He then left Avenue du Marché with the “rabbit” and located a vacant alley. In Hermes language, he informed the “rabbit” that the summoning was over.

After the “rabbit” returned to the spirit world, Lumian finally felt at ease.

He resolved to stop aiding Charlie. The rest would hinge on how the official Beyonders handled the situation.

If it weren’t for the fact that this matter is intriguing enough, I wouldn’t have bothered to help him. Do I have to battle that enigmatic creature, Susanna Mattise, who’s clearly formidable, on his behalf? Lumian mused silently.

He chuckled.

In Cordu, if those crude fellows understood the traits Susanna Mattise exhibited, they would undoubtedly ask slyly whether he wanted to fight her in bed or in the hayloft.

Of course, Lumian could be just as coarse when dealing with them.

On his way back to Rue Anarchie, he discovered a meat patty shop and purchased Red Snapper Hot Beef Meatloaf for dinner.

Paired with the soda sold by street vendors, Lumian navigated the crowd as he ate, occasionally evading hands that covertly reached for his wallet.

Compared to Rouen Meatloaf, Red Snapper Hot Beef Meatloaf was less greasy. The fish was refreshing and delicate, the beef savory and crispy, the dough’s subtle sweetness had a bite, and the aroma of spices and fat ignited Lumian’s taste buds one by one with a rich texture.

After eating and drinking his fill, he clutched the glass bottle that still contained a third of the pale-red liquid and sighed appreciatively.

No wonder the Trieriens love meatloaves…

When I get the chance, I’ll visit Rue Richelieu in the library district and try the first restaurant that created Red Snapper Hot Beef Meatloaf…

Based on the newspapers and magazines he had perused before, he could recite several famous meatloaves off the top of his head.

Degan Meatloaf, Périgueux Meatloaf, Tudenan Cashew Pie, Minced Meat Pie…

Sipping the pomegranate-flavored soda, Lumian turned onto Rue Anarchie.

What met his gaze was a chaotic tableau. The suspected gangsters brandished either axes or clubs, squaring off in the street.

Pedestrians steered clear, and the vendors retreated from Rue Anarchie one by one. The residents of the houses on both sides slammed their windows shut.

Lumian didn’t venture further. He backtracked a few steps and found a wall pillar to conceal himself behind as he observed the unfolding scene with interest.

He suspected that his assassination of the Poison Spur Mob’s Margot had aroused the suspicions of several gangs in the market district, ultimately escalating into a standoff.

After waiting nearly 15 minutes, Lumian still didn’t witness the mobsters erupt into full-scale combat.

His anticipation for the confrontation left him disappointed. He cursed under his breath, “Are you guys going to do this or not? You’re blocking the street without fighting. Do you think you have too much time on your hands?”

With that in mind, Lumian glanced at the five-story grayish-white building beside him.

He seriously contemplated finding a room and hurling the empty soda bottle between the two factions, tricking them into believing the opposing mob leader had signaled the start of the battle.

That way, Lumian would have a spectacle to enjoy.

Just as he was about to put his plan into action, a large contingent of police officers in black uniforms appeared at both ends of Rue Anarchie.

Leading them were officers on tall brown or black horses, brandishing shields and clubs. They advanced towards the mobsters, step by step,

exuding an immense pressure that caused many of the gangsters to waver.

When the mounted police charged, the mobsters gathered on Rue Anarchie dispersed. Some fled, while others were beaten to the ground.

Lumian couldn’t help but want to applaud. His thirst for excitement was thoroughly quenched.

He had only read about such scenes in novels and news articles, the latter of which often glossed over the gritty details!

In no time, Rue Anarchie returned to its usual cacophony.

Lumian finished his last sip of pomegranate soda and sauntered back to Auberge du Coq Doré, entering Room 207.

Sitting by the bed, he replayed the entire process of writing and posting the letter in his mind to ensure he hadn’t overlooked any details that could expose him to the official Beyonders.

After a while, Lumian sighed softly.

“If only I had a messenger. It wouldn’t have been so troublesome.”

Unfortunately, obtaining a messenger wasn’t easy. Even his sister Aurore didn’t have one.

To date, Lumian knew of only two people who possessed a messenger.

One was Madam Magician, and the other was the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society’s vice president, Hela, whom Aurore had mentioned.

Hela… Lumian’s expression gradually darkened.

If the Aurore in his dream indeed bore some influence from her soul fragment, it was apparent that Aurore trusted the vice president a great deal. Her first move upon encountering a problem was to summon the other party’s messenger for assistance.

I wonder if Hela knows Aurore’s true identity, or if she discovered through that… that obituary that Aurore has… has already passed on… Lumian muttered to himself.

As he pondered, an idea struck him.

It was actually possible for him to summon Hela’s messenger!

The summoning incantation comprised only three sentences. Lumian was certain the last phrase was “a messenger that belongs to Hela.” The first two sentences followed a fixed format and requirements. As long as he attempted a few more combinations, he’d find the correct sequence!

Moreover, under such circumstances, Lumian wouldn’t face any danger even if the initial combinations were incorrect. This was because the description of a messenger belonging to Hela eliminated other possibilities.

In other words, he’d either fail to summon it or successfully summon Hela’s messenger.

Should I write a letter to Hela and inform her of what happened to Aurore? Lumian found himself momentarily stumped.

Considering that his sister had mentioned “my notebook” when she pushed him away, and that much of the mystical knowledge in her notebook originated from the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, Lumian quickly made up his mind. If he could establish a connection with this organization, it would aid him in uncovering the crucial information hidden within the Warlock notebook.

He resolved to summon Hela’s messenger right away!

Although he still harbored doubts about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society’s vice president, he didn’t believe he possessed any value she coveted. Besides, Aurore had trusted Hela while she was alive.

Lumian walked to the wooden table, sat down, and began writing.

“Honorable Madam Hela,

“I apologize for writing you this letter. I am Muggle’s younger brother. I regret to inform you that she encountered misfortune and has passed away.

“This involves a catastrophe brought about by worshiping an evil god. Only a few people and I escaped.

“I’m not sure if this matter interests you, so I won’t elaborate. I don’t wish to waste your time.

“What I want to know is, did Muggle mention anything suspicious to you in the past year?

“…”

After staring at the letter for a few seconds, Lumian slowly exhaled and folded the paper.

He then cleaned the room, set up the altar again, and attempted the first combination.

“The spirit that wanders about the unfounded, a friendly creature that can be subordinated, a messenger that belongs solely to Hela.”

After reciting the incantation, Lumian gazed at the dark-green candle flame and patiently awaited the messenger’s arrival.

Time ticked by, but nothing happened on the altar.

Undeterred, Lumian spoke again, “I! I summon in my name:

“The spirit wandering above the world;

“The friendly creature that can be subordinated;

“A messenger that belongs solely to Hela…”

The dark green candle flame suddenly flickered and grew larger.

At that moment, not only did the area above remain unlit, but it also grew darker.

In the darkness, a shape quickly materialized.

It was a human-like skull, seemingly forged from pure silver. It emitted a gentle light that dispelled the encroaching darkness.

Pale-white flames burned in the skull’s eye sockets, instilling a sense of danger in Lumian.

After staring at Lumian for a few seconds, the pure silver skull opened its mouth and bit down on the airborne letter.

Then, it retreated back into the reassembled darkness.