入室强性暴

The previous night, he had stayed at Auberge du Coq Doré.

He raised his right hand to touch his head. His bald head had grown thick and healthy hair once more.

Leaving the comfort of his bed, Lumian walked over to the full-length mirror and saw a reflection that looked both familiar and unfamiliar.

Back in Cordu, his hair had never been dyed golden.

But in the morning light, he couldn’t help but smile, feeling better than he had in a long time.

At the very least, he didn’t meet with failure with everything he did. Killing and taking revenge didn’t pose a problem.

After breakfast at a street vendor, Lumian planned to find a barbershop in either Quartier de l’Observatoire or Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative to revert his hair color to golden. But before he could set out, hurried footsteps approached his room.

He braced himself, thinking someone might kick the door open, but instead, there was a knock.

It was Franca, who rarely rose so early. She couldn’t hide her surprise upon seeing Lumian’s pure black hair.

“You dyed it back?” she exclaimed.

“Sort of,” Lumian replied, observing Franca as she entered Room 207 and closed the door behind her.

Without mincing words, Franca confronted him, “Did you kill Hugues Artois’s assistant secretary? And did you rush to advance to Pyromaniac last night?”

Lumian stood up, smiling.

“Yes.”

Franca was momentarily at a loss for words with the frank admission.

After a few seconds, she hissed and said, “You brat, you promised me you would hold back and endure, but the very next moment, you went ahead without hesitation. You really can’t suppress your hatred for a night, can you?

“If you keep going like this, I seriously doubt you’ll survive this year—no, this month!”

Lumian explained simply, “Actually, I didn’t intend to kill Tybalt last night. I merely wanted to monitor him, gather information, and plan a proper approach to deal with him together with you. But an opportunity presented itself, and it was too good to pass up. I couldn’t convince myself to hold back.”

“Right, I made preparations in all aspects, including measures against divination and tracking.”

Relieved, Franca asked, “That Tybalt guy seemed weak. Was it easy for you to handle him?”

“He mainly transmitted diseases through contact, and Pyromaniacs happened to counter that ability. If not for my anti-divination and anti-spirit channeling preparations, I could have taken care of him in ten seconds,” Lumian recalled.

Franca sighed, admitting, “You got lucky. Have you considered the possibility that your target might be much stronger?”

“My initial judgment was that he wouldn’t be too formidable. If he exceeded a certain threshold, I was prepared to use my dirk,” Lumian replied before asking, “Why are you up so early?”

“Gardner woke me up!” Franca replied with gritted teeth. “He instructed me to gather the leaders of the Savoie Mob and find the person responsible for killing Hugues Artois’s assistant secretary. When I heard the details, I knew it had to be you! I told you last night to get in the right condition before drinking the Pyromaniac potion, but you went ahead and consumed it anyway.”

Lumian spoke earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I believed that I was in the perfect state to advance to Pyromaniac, so I swiftly concocted the potion. Will Boss suspect me?”

“For now, no,” Franca replied, shaking her head. “Besides yourself, nobody expected you to consume the potion last night. Moreover, you cunningly framed the Aurora Order. Gardner doesn’t see any motive in you.”

Franca glanced at Lumian’s head and suggested, “Come here, I’ll help you restore your original hair color. It’s best not to make any changes during a time like this to avoid arousing suspicion.”

“Alright,” Lumian agreed, feeling delighted to save some money.

…

In the morning, the ward buzzed with more activity compared to the somberness of the night. Echoing through the air were the cries of those being carried away, the presence of relatives escorting loved ones back home, and the determination of some patients who defied the cries, choosing to depart from the hospital’s confines.

Jenna and Elodie—who had regained consciousness—observed the scene in silence. They understood the painful reality unfolding before them.

Not everyone could bear the weight of insurmountable medical expenses, nor did they wish to drag their families into the depths of despair.

Sometimes, the patient surrendered while the family persisted. Other times, it was the family that gave up, leaving the patient with no choice but to accept their fate. At times, patient and family would tacitly leave the ward, exchange silent glances, and be unable to hold back their tears as they cried or wailed.

After a while, as the ward regained a semblance of tranquility, Elodie, who had managed to sit up, whispered softly, “How long will I have to stay here for treatment?”

Jenna pondered for a moment before deciding to tell her mother the truth. It was an impossible matter to conceal. The doctors’ rounds, treatments, and further examinations would inevitably reveal some information. Besides, Elodie would piece it together based on her physical condition and the fact that she hadn’t been discharged after several days.

Organizing her thoughts, Jenna explained, “The doctor said you’ll be here for months, possibly even half a year. Your external injuries aren’t severe, but your body has suffered significant damage. Unless you make a full recovery, your condition may worsen.”

Before Elodie could respond, Jenna smiled reassuringly and continued, “I’ve already secured the funds for your treatment. I borrowed the money from Franca. She has no shortage of resources. She promised Julien and me that we could repay it in two to three years, in installments. By then, Dad’s accident compensation will surely have been paid. There may even be hope for yours.”

Elodie’s expression faltered for a moment. After a few seconds, she spoke with weariness in her voice, “Why will it take so long…”

“With such a massive explosion and the chemical gasses, it’s a miracle that you survived,” Jenna said before asking. “What exactly happened back then?”

Elodie contemplated for a moment and replied wearily, “I don’t know. The explosion happened so suddenly, and I lost consciousness.

“I think it originated near the metal tank. Sigh, many of the factory’s facilities are old and prone to breakdowns. They require repairs, but the boss refuses to invest in replacements. Sigh…”

After chatting for a while, Jenna noticed her mother’s energy waning. She advised Elodie to rest for a while and headed towards the washroom at the end of the corridor.

As soon as Elodie witnessed Jenna’s departure from the ward, she mustered all her strength, disconnected the IV, and leaned against the wall for support. Gasping for breath, she took two steps towards the ward diagonally opposite, where doctors and nurses meticulously examined each injured individual.

Elodie located the doctor, provided her ward and bed number, and inquired, “How long will my treatment last?”

The doctor leafed through his records and responded, “We don’t have all the results yet, but we estimate it will take about five to seven months.”

“What will be the cost of treatment each month?” Elodie inquired.

The doctor pondered for a moment and replied, “Let’s wait for the complete assessment. If all goes well, it should amount to around 200 verl d’or per week. As treatment progresses, the cost will decrease. However, if your condition isn’t too favorable, it might range from 300 to 400 verl d’or per week. Furthermore, even after you leave the hospital, you must prioritize rest and avoid exerting yourself.”

Elodie found herself rendered speechless. The nurse assisted her back to the ward and reinserted the needle into her arm.

Shortly before noon, Julien rushed into the ward, his concern for his mother evident in his eyes.

After conversing with him for a while, Jenna announced, “I’ll go to the hospital cafeteria and bring back some food for you.”

With that, she departed the ward, moving briskly as she descended the stairs.

Thanks to Lumian’s guidance, Jenna had come to realize that she possessed extraordinary abilities as a Beyonder. She was no longer an ordinary individual. With a willingness to take calculated risks, she had numerous avenues to earn money.

Consequently, the expenses for Elodie’s treatment and the overwhelming debt held no power over her. The fact that her mother had been saved was cause for celebration, a reason to extol the sun.

In the ward, Elodie gazed at Julien, who sat beside her, and posed a question with a tender expression, “You’re nearly 23, aren’t you?”

“That’s right,” Julien replied, a smile gracing his face. “I’ve been a provider for the family for quite some time now. But in your eyes, I’m still a youngling.”

Elodie offered a faint smile and spoke, “That’s because my criteria for true adulthood differ from others. I’ve always believed that one can only be considered an adult when they possess a skill that consistently earns them money. You’re still a year away from that, and Celia has another year and a half to go.

“You’ve endured so much these past few years.”

“It was you who endured,” Julien responded with a sigh. “Before I could truly assist, you worked three jobs a day for a whole year, from 6 a.m. until midnight.”

Emotions surged within him, causing him to blurt out, “We’ll definitely cure you!”

Elodie chuckled in delight, her hand gently caressing her flaxen hair.

“Unfortunately, my wig is gone.

“And your sister. She previously deceived us, claiming that the theater required her to dye her hair a brownish-yellow shade. In reality, it was to prevent herself from being recognized when she went to sing at the dance hall. I don’t know what to do with her.

“Sigh, I truly don’t want you to shoulder more debt. It will waste years. By then, you won’t be young anymore…”

Julien swiftly consoled his mother, assuring her that he excelled at his job and would undoubtedly receive a salary increase next year.

After rambling for a few minutes, Elodie clutched her chest and beseeched Julien, “I’m not feeling well. Please find a doctor for me.”

“Okay.” Julien stood up abruptly and dashed out of the room.

Elodie promptly removed the IV needle and stumbled toward the ward’s window, relying on the nearby beds for support.

Meanwhile, on the first floor of Holy Palace Hospital.

Jenna emerged from the cafeteria, carrying a wooden lunch box, and began her journey up the staircase.

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she witnessed a figure hurtling downwards, resulting in a resounding thud.

Jenna’s heart skipped a beat, her mind filled with unease. Hastily, she turned around, uncertain about the source of her apprehension. She dashed out of the hall and approached the spot where the person had jumped, maneuvering through the gathering crowd.

In the next instant, she beheld a crimson liquid seeping and a familiar face adorned with delicate wrinkles.

With a thud, the lunch box slipped from her grasp, crashing onto the ground. Her eyes grew vacant, reflecting a vivid red.

The lifeless body belonged to her mother, Elodie.

The person who had leaped from the building was her mother, Elodie.