Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability



At 10 p.m., while returning to Auberge du Coq Doré from Avenue du Marché, Louis, who was with Baron Brignais earlier, guided Lumian from the main road bathed in yellow light to a side street swallowed by darkness.

Surveying the neglected, broken street lamps, he remarked nonchalantly, "The baron has cut a deal with the Poison Spur Mob. From now on, Auberge du Coq Doré is officially under our Savoie Mob's control."

Lumian snorted. "Is the Poison Spur Mob that easy to negotiate with?"

What do you mean? Are you hoping for the two parties to fight? Louis increasingly sensed that Ciel was a dangerous man who thrived on conflict.

He was convinced that Ciel's nature and approach would bring trouble to the Savoie Mob time and time again in the future.

The market district, already strained by the Poison Spur Mob's rapid ascent, would certainly become more chaotic.

As a seasoned gang member, Louis believed in bullying ordinary people rather than resorting to violence and bloodshed. Life was precious; he'd witnessed several comrades die in gang wars and police raids. Initially, their families were taken care of, but as time passed, their circumstances deteriorated.

But if cornered, Louis wouldn't shy away from brutality. Every thug under Baron Brignais had climbed the ranks through street brawls and alley fights. They may not be brainy, but their skills and courage were nothing to sneer at.

Louis slowly exhaled.

"You showed enough force to protect Auberge du Coq Doré, and the Poison Spur Mob didn't want to escalate matters and draw police attention. So, after the baron covered Wilson's medical expenses, the matter was settled.

"Keep a low profile for now. If you catch the police's eye, you won't withstand a thorough investigation."

It doesn't matter to me. I'll just find a hideout before the official Beyonders corner me. The Poison Spur Mob can run, but they can't hide… Lumian murmured, borrowing a line from Aurore's book.

Louis continued, "The baron wants me to tell you that since you're staying at Auberge du Coq Doré, it's your turf now.

"And for members who control their own turf, we don't usually provide daily allowances."

What he implied was that the Savoie Mob likely wouldn't give Lumian any more money beyond the initial 1,000 verl d'or. He'd have to find a way to generate income from his turf.

Lumian was momentarily stunned before replying with a chuckle, "Alright."

As they spoke, they stopped outside Auberge du Coq Doré.

Lumian gazed at the old, cream-colored building and was struck by a bizarre, ludicrous thought.

This is my turf?

The residents of this ramshackle place are all destitute. How can they afford to pay protection fees?

Forget it. It's already a blessing that they don't create trouble for me like Charlie. I can't squeeze money out of them!

Muttering silently, Lumian bid Louis farewell and entered the motel.

Having already consumed two drinks, he skipped the basement bar and retreated to Room 207.

No one had visited.

After perusing Aurore's grimoire for a while, Lumian recognized a familiar footfall, followed by a knock on the door.

He opened it, unsurprised to find Charlie standing there.

Charlie's face was flushed from drinking. He grinned and exclaimed, "Can you believe it? I'm about to land a new job! I went to Rue des Blouses Blanches tonight and bought the waiters drinks. They introduced me to a hotel manager who said they needed a few full-time attendants!"

"If that manager learns you hooked up with a female guest at your previous hotel and were recently implicated in a murder case, will he still consider you?" Lumian retorted.

Charlie's smile froze. He massaged his face and replied, "He might still give me a chance. But Ciel, that's not why I'm here. I wanted to ask what you plan to do with Miss Ethans?"

"What do you mean?" Lumian inquired, smirking.

Charlie forced a smile and asked,"Will you stop her from leaving Rue Anarchie? If you make her keep working the streets, how much should she pay you each time? And how often?"

Lumian chortled.

"She's free to do whatever she wants. It's none of my business. I have plenty of ways to make money."

"I knew it! Praise the Sun and Saint Viève!" Charlie cheered. "I could tell from the moment I saw you at the bar that you were a clever and capable gentleman!"

"Trusting the judgment of the Idiot Instrument?" Lumian jested.

Charlie sheepishly smiled.

"That's one factor."

He waved his hand.

"I'll share this news with Miss Ethans!" After taking a few steps, Charlie halted and spun around, asking unusually cautiously, "Will the Poison Spur Mob come back?"

"Baron Brignais has brokered a deal with them. Auberge du Coq Doré is now Savoie Mob's turf," Lumian answered nonchalantly. "And I'm the one in charge here."

Charlie was ecstatic. He spread his arms wide and exclaimed, "Praise the Sun, praise Saint Viève, and praise you, Ciel!"

With that, he dashed into the stairwell.

Comparing me to the Eternal Blazing Sun and Saint Viève… Are you trying to get me killed faster? Lumian snorted and shook his head. He then retreated to his room and resumed studying Aurore's grimoire.

Outside Room 408, Charlie knocked on the wooden door.

Ethans, her cheek red and swollen, opened the door and stated flatly, "I'm not feeling well today. Find someone else."

Charlie couldn't contain the exciting news.

"Guess what? The motel's no longer under Poison Spur Mob's control. It belongs to the Savoie Mob!"

Ethans suddenly remembered the evening's events and hesitated before asking, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" Charlie replied, his signature enthusiasm returning. "You won't believe it. I found out from the leader of the Savoie Mob. Ciel, who lives in 207. He's already become a leader of the Savoie Mob. Auberge du Coq Doré is his turf now! He personally told me that the Poison Spur Mob bastards have scrammed and won't be back! He also said that the Savoie Mob and the Poison Spur Mob reached an agreement!"

Ciel… The man who threw Wilson down? Ethans's eyes darted, seemingly awakening from her puppet-like state.

"The Poison Spur Mob was really driven away?"

"It's true!" Charlie nodded emphatically.

Ethans stood stunned for a moment, then clenched her teeth and spat out, "Those sons of bitches, rotten scum, they're finally gone!"

Charlie continued, "I've asked Ciel. He said you can do whatever you want. It's not his concern. He's incredibly resourceful. So much so that he can change my opinion of pranksters like him. Can you believe it? He comes up with lucrative schemes every minute!"

Ethans was dumbstruck.

As far as she knew, none of the gangsters were good people. They were all despicable scoundrels who deserved hell!

Charlie kept talking, but Ethans tuned him out. The words "do whatever you want" resonated in her mind.

After Charlie left, she retreated to her room and quickly changed into a lady's blouse and light-colored pants.

Next, she lifted the mattress and retrieved a stack of 200 verl d'or notes.

She crammed all the bills into her pocket, then hesitated for a moment before removing more than half and hiding it back in its original spot.

With the remaining 40 verl d'or, she shut the door and headed downstairs.

Before long, she stepped out of Auberge du Coq Doré and onto Rue Anarchie.

A solitary gas lamp illuminated the street from a distance. Bathed in crimson moonlight, numerous inebriated people stumbled along the road, shouting, singing, or sporadically clashing with one another.

Ethans sidestepped the drunks and nervously followed the shadows along the street, aiming for Rue Anarchie's exit.

Throughout her journey, memories of escaping and being apprehended by the Poison Spur Mob on the street haunted her.

The memory of the beating made her shudder involuntarily.

Ethans slowed down, as though the Poison Spur Mob lurked around the corner.

Finally, she reached the exit of Rue Anarchie and saw the broad main road beyond.

Ethans stared at the once-unreachable scene, feeling as if she were in a dream.

Subconsciously, she quickened her pace, striding faster through the dark night under the crimson moonlight.

In no time, she arrived at the nearest public carriage stop.

She still remembered disembarking from the public carriage here on her first day in Trier.

Now, she had finally returned.

With no public carriages running late at night, Ethans didn't mind. She gazed at the street ahead, the postbox shrouded in darkness, and the sign displaying the carriage route. Her eyes welled up with tears.

Suddenly, Ethans spun around and bolted.

She had to get back to Auberge du Coq Doré, pack her belongings, and leave at daybreak!

Ethans sprinted faster, feeling the wind slap her face, cold and damp.

Her vision blurred, and she seemed to see a ghost of her past self.

The former Ethans, who arrived in Trier filled with dreams and enthusiasm, stood beneath the streetlamp, gently beckoning.

Hurry up and catch up!

…

Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 207.

Ethans dabbed the corners of her eyes and rapped on the door.

Lumian swung the wooden door open and cast a cursory glance at her.

"What can I do for you?"

In a raspy voice, Ethans inquired, "Why are you helping me?"

Lumian sneered. "Why should I help you? What do you possess that's worthy of my assistance? You're not beautiful, and you don't have much money."

Ethans's words of gratitude were immediately choked off.

She couldn't even recall how she left the second floor. As she packed her belongings, the whole experience felt surreal.

Watching her vanish down the stairs, Lumian snickered.

I'm not helping you. I just can't stand fate's cruel taunts.

We are all victims of fate's ridicule, but I want to defy and resist it, even if I'm not capable enough, until death puts an end to it all!

In that moment, Lumian sensed his Provoker potion digesting a bit further.

Although he was far from fully digesting it and needed time to work through it, this indicated that he had adapted to the Provoker potion, and his condition had stabilized. He could contemplate extracting the sealed power within him and obtaining the Alms Monk's boon.

Judging by the name, it should compensate for his lack of mystical techniques.