Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability



Jenna's brother gone mad? Lumian's rage surged.

Not because he was angry with the other party and thought his mental strength too weak to crumble so easily into madness, but because he heard fate's mocking laughter once again.

He noticed yesterday that Julien blamed himself for Elodie's death and showed signs of withdrawing into himself, but that was far from madness. Even if he faced psychological issues in the future, they would be prolonged, not an instant breakdown.

Unless… unless something happened last night that dealt Julien another heavy blow!

Damn fate!

Franca shared the surprise.

Yesterday, she had warned Jenna to keep an eye on her brother's mental state, but she hadn't expected Julien to lose his mind so swiftly.

As far as she knew, he was a resilient young man. He was in good health, and his emotions wouldn't easily be affected or trigger dangerous tendencies. It would be normal for him to isolate himself or indulge for a while, but a complete breakdown in one night seemed unlikely.

Jenna had mentioned Julien's inclination towards extremism, but that was for the sake of their family. With his sister still alive, burdened with debts, and the need to become an underground singer, it was evident that Julien would persist and work hard to share the load until the debts were repaid. If his psychological issues persisted until then, he might collapse or quietly take his own life.

This led Franca to suspect that Julien had been agitated once again the previous night.

She had similar concerns about Jenna's mother's decision to commit suicide, but she refrained from mentioning it to avoid upsetting Jenna.

Franca understood Elodie's feelings and choices, but suicide felt too hasty and impulsive, as if something had influenced her emotions.

Before transmigrating into this world, Franca had read many reports of such nature. She knew that the torment of poverty, self-blame for burdening the family with debts, fear of being incapable of labor, and pure selfless love could drive an optimistic person into a desperate situation, leading them to sacrifice themselves.

However, such matters typically involved a period of internal struggle before they were carried out. After all, everyone had a will to survive and would consider their loved ones' feelings. While it wasn't impossible to commit suicide upon understanding the circumstances, the chances were quite low.

Franca speculated two possibilities. First, Jenna's mother might have been psychologically affected by her physical condition. Second, the explosion at the chemical plant might have been part of the motives of the Member of Parliament secretary, Rhône, and others. The subsequent abnormal and widespread emotional fluctuations could be connected to those events.

Is Julien in a similar situation? Franca shifted her gaze to Jenna, who approached Room 207, sobbing.

"What happened?"

"Julien got fired," Jenna said, her expression filled with resentment. "Just because he didn't go to the factory yesterday afternoon. But who thinks of work when their mother has just passed away? After leaving the hospital, he immediately went to his master to request time off, but they handed him a dismissal notice instead. He had been an apprentice there for a whole year!"

"Dammit!" Franca cursed. "Can't they just deduct some money? Are they heartless? Do none of their own family members die?"

"They said it needed to be requested in advance. It can't be done afterward." Jenna wiped her tears. "Julien broke down this morning. He cried like a child, blaming himself and expressing his fear of losing his job. I waited until he was exhausted from crying and fell asleep before rushing over to find you. I went to Rue des Blouses Blanches first but found no one there, so I came here."

As she spoke, her words meandered, as though a flood of emotions had surged within her and needed release.

Franca let out a relieved sigh.

"It doesn't seem too grave. Sounds more like an overwhelming breakdown. Trust me, a genuine Psychiatrist can heal your brother completely. I'll arrange an appointment for you right away!"

As Franca spoke, she turned and headed towards the staircase.

The anger in Lumian's heart intensified.

Forgetting to request time off, getting fired on the very day he made the request, succumbing to new disturbances, and spiraling into madness—it all seemed too coincidental.

Motherf*cker Termiboros!

Motherf*cker Inevitability!

Lumian spun towards Jenna and said sharply, "Let's pay a visit to the factory owner and your brother's master!"

Jenna pursed her lips and replied simply, "Okay."

Lumian walked past her and followed Franca up the stairs, his fiery blue eyes burning with determination.

At that moment, the words of Psychiatrist Madam Susie echoed in his mind: Always remind yourself not to overreact. Whenever you feel a similar surge of emotions, take deep breaths and find your calm…

Lumian took a deep breath, feeling a sense of alarm.

In the face of Jenna's brother's madness and fate's cruel taunts, he should be angered and protest, but he shouldn't have allowed his rage to consume him completely!

Almost simultaneously, behind Lumian, Jenna's resentful expression transformed into a calm one. From somewhere, she drew a brownish-green dagger,

resembling a blade fashioned from tree branches instead of metal. Its surface was adorned with bark, arranged in intricate patterns.

With a swift motion, Jenna thrust the dagger towards Lumian's back.

Reacting swiftly, Lumian twisted his body, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow. The dagger found purchase between his shoulder and back, drawing blood.

Jenna leaped back with agility, while the crimson blood from Lumian's wound flowed profusely, like crimson fire.

The bark on Jenna's brownish-green dagger seemed to come alive, greedily absorbing Lumian's blood.

In that moment, the muscles on Jenna's face contorted, rendering her unrecognizable to Lumian and Franca.

In an instant, she transformed into an enchanting and ethereal girl, her features captivating.

Lumian's pupils dilated as he recognized the imposter.

Charlotte Calvino!

Charlotte Calvino, the leading actress of Théâtre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons!

Charlotte blended seamlessly with her surroundings, evading Lumian's fiery crimson fireball with ease.

Amidst the thunderous explosion, the door to Room 207 crumbled. The actress chuckled and uttered,

"You regained your senses swiftly. I couldn't eliminate you directly.

"But it matters not. We only require a small portion of your blood."

…

On Avenue du Marché, outside the khaki-colored four-story building that housed the member of parliament's office,

Jenna stepped into the banquet hall with bewilderment. Before her eyes lay an array of exquisite desserts, savory dishes, and glasses of vibrant-colored drinks, spread across long tables.

In one corner of the hall, a small symphony band played a soothing melody, accompanied by the sparkling brilliance of a crystal chandelier and the gentle rays of sunlight pouring in through the windows.

Amongst the crowd were individuals clad in brown jackets, linen shirts, and nondescript attire from the market district, appearing rather out of place amidst the opulence of the banquet.

Some stood in a corner, their expressions vacant, while others regarded the luxurious items with resentment. Some consumed food in a state of confusion, while others savored champagne with excitement, relishing the taste of an affair reserved for the upper class.

Instinctively, Jenna retreated to a dimly lit corner, her expression impassive as she silently observed everything around her.

Meanwhile, on the fourth floor of the member of parliament's office.

Hugues Artois, dressed in a black tailcoat and a dark-blue bow tie, his sideburns mottled and his nose prominent, stood behind a window, surveying the market district.

This chaotic and antiquated place belonged to his kingdom.

"Monsieur Member of Parliament, why host a condolence banquet and invite these plebeians?" Rhône, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and sporting neatly combed hair, asked in confusion.

Hugues Artois smiled.

"It is the duty of a member of parliament. Before assuming another identity, I must fulfill my obligations.

"Furthermore, by offering condolences and assistance to the grieving people at this time, I will leave a lasting impression in their minds. They may become my loyal followers in the future. When the time comes, their conversion will be easier."

The red-haired Cassandra chuckled.

"And they shall remain oblivious to the fact that it is you, a member of parliament, who has brought calamity, pain, and despair upon them.

"They will only perceive the care and concern from a high-ranking figure, satisfied by your promises."

Secretary Rhône nodded, a smile playing on his lips.

"In their eyes, Monsieur Member of Parliament is an esteemed figure they can only admire from afar. They dare not approach or question him, let alone harbor suspicions, vent their anger, or harbor hatred.

"As long as there is no organization among them, they will never dare to resist."

Hugues Artois laughed and declared, "That is precisely why we must sow division among them, fueling their animosity towards each other."

With those words spoken, Hugues Artois turned his gaze towards the sunlit window and muttered to himself, "Those under the Mother Tree of Desire must have already commenced their actions, I presume…"

…

On Rue Anarchie, just outside Auberge du Coq Doré.

Without warning, the ground split open and the center caved in, catching several vendors off guard. They tumbled into the abyss, their screams abruptly silenced.

A colossal brownish-green tree sprang forth from the depths, its branches spreading in every direction.

Stretching across multiple blocks, it ensnared Auberge du Coq Doré within its leafy embrace.

The eloping couple, amidst their verbal sparring, found themselves once again engaged in their favored pastime. Anthony Reid, the information broker, sought refuge beneath a rickety wooden table, trembling uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Pavard Neeson, the proprietor of the underground bar, reached for his sketchpad, downing a gulp of liquor as he sketched with an expression of deep concern…

The immense brownish-green tree continued to grow, unabated.