Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability Chapter 736 Night

Chapter 736 Night

Can you accept such an outcome?

Inside an empty house in Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, Angoulême de Fran?ois, wearing a lion headdress, stood by the window, gazing down at the gas streetlamps below, patiently waiting.

After losing contact, he and Hidden Blade had switched emergency communication methods. They aimed to quickly re-establish contact, even without Madame Hela’s messenger.

Early the previous morning, as soon as he had wrapped up the Moran Avigny case, he immediately tried to locate Hidden Blade.

Finally, Hidden Blade Franca, dressed in her assassin outfit, emerged from the shadows.

Angoulême cut right to it and asked, “Did you take down Moran Avigny?”

“Otherwise?” Franca replied with a smile.

Although Overseer Perle’s vortex warning hung over Franca’s head like a sharp blade, preventing her from relaxing just because Moran Avigny was dead and she had the intel, Franca wouldn’t let it ruin her mood or make her solemn or anxious.

The Major Arcana card holders would naturally worry about something so serious, and she and the others just needed to follow orders and complete the missions. No point fretting.

Plus, the intel they obtained was crucial and valuable. Either the Eternal Blazing Sun Church or the Demoness Sect would definitely be grateful!

Franca was filled with anticipation over this.

“It really was you guys…” Angoulême couldn’t help but sigh.

Hidden Blade and her team really acted fast. They had mentioned dealing with a government minister, and not long after, they actually attacked and succeeded.

Franca covered for Lumian, saying, “We were waiting for Moran Avigny to walk into the mirror himself. Surprisingly, the Aurora Order suddenly assassinated him, forcing him into our trap early.”

Combined with the scene details, Angoulême slightly nodded and said, “So it was just a coincidence…”

This aligned with what the Purifiers had confirmed.

Angoulême then asked, “So where’s Moran Avigny now?”

“Dead,” Franca said with a tongue click. “He was definitely a Mirror Person, and gave us lots of important intel.”

“What intel?” Angoulême quickly asked.

Franca chuckled and raised her right hand, gently rubbing her thumb and index finger together. “Where’s my informant fee?”

Angoulême said in exasperated amusement, “Don’t forget I contributed a lot to the Moran Avigny operation. Even if I don’t get spoils, it’s no problem to hear the intel, right?”

Franca, who always prided herself on fairly “splitting loot,” awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Just kidding. Just kidding. But that intel is super important. Your superior will definitely reward you. Don’t forget to help me collect my fee!”

“Get to the point,” Angoulême replied in a deep voice.

It wasn’t that he was stingy about the fee, but Hidden Blade had twice emphasized how crucial the intel was, making him eager.

Franca omitted Tarot Club and Aurora Order details, but started from capturing Jebus to Overseer Perle’s painted self appearing and Lumian’s theory about the whole situation.

Initially, Angoulême stayed relatively composed. Mirror People problems barely factored into Purifier expectations. But when Moran Avigny was tricked into revealing Roselle Gustav led the Mirror People, Angoulême’s head started buzzing louder and louder.

Why do Hidden Blade and the others always get mixed up in such major situations?

How long has it been since the Hostel incident? Why is there another “vortex”?

After Franca finished, Angoulême couldn’t help but raise his right hand and pinch his throbbing, headdress-concealed forehead. His emotions were so scrambled he was speechless.

Franca smugly asked, “How’s that? Project Vortex, the Mirror People, and intel about a hidden traitor—pretty important stuff, right?”

Noticing Angoulême’s grave gaze and slightly moving, teeth-grinding mouth, Franca instinctively added, “Don’t blame me! We’re not causing these problems, Trier’s just uniquely prone to all kinds of chaos. We’re victims too!”

Angoulême slowly exhaled and said, “I’ll… submit this intel… tonight. I won’t forget to pass along my informant’s reward request. What do you want?”

At the mention of “tonight,” Angoulême’s emotions surged and he paused a moment.

He had just finished his workday an hour ago and left Saint Viève Cathedral. Now he had to return!

I’m Agent 007, not some societal slave working from midnight to midnight every damn day! Angoulême inwardly cursed, but still appeared calm, reliable, and emotionally stable.

Franca deeply pondered and said, “All the Pleasure potion ingredients.”

She had considered her Affliction potion could be rewarded by the Demoness Sect, but not Jenna’s. She could only rely on the authorities.

“Aren’t you already at Pleasure?” Angoulême muttered, giving up asking. He nodded, “I’ll help get it.”

He didn’t ask about Hidden Blade’s Pleasure potion preparations, just as he didn’t ask how she and her crew survived facing a demigod’s painted self.

Franca was overjoyed at 007’s promise.

Getting Pleasure from the Church and Affliction from the Demoness Sect, surely Madam Judgment would reward me too. I sold this one intel three times… I can now understand Lumian’s glee at triple-dipping mission rewards!

Angoulême rubbed his temples and muttered, “There are Cardinals not from the Sun pathway, and way more diocese bishops. I really don’t know what we’ll uncover next. I just hope the impact isn’t too massive.”

He meant the April Fool’s insider in the Eternal Church. With a clear lead, it wouldn’t be hard for that party to be discovered, even if they worked through a Broker.

Without waiting for Franca’s reply, Angoulême pondered a moment and said, “The humanoid Sealed Artifact transaction is approved. Let me know the transaction details anytime.”

“It’s finally approved…” Franca criticized the bureaucracy and curiously asked, “What’s the story with that humanoid Artifact?”

She had encountered the humanoid Sealed Artifact during the sea prayer ritual and knew its abnormal power.

Angoulême shook his head. “I’m not cleared for that intel. All I know is she used to be a Sequence 4 Spectator demigod. Later she suddenly went insane, but I don’t know if she went mad before an evil god corrupted her, or because of the corruption.”

“It was probably the latter,” Franca said thoughtfully. “Aren’t Spectator Beyonders usually emotionally stable and hard to lose control?”

Angoulême rejected Franca’s statement. “From what I know, Spectators normally don’t have issues. But when they do, it gets really messy.”

“True,” Franca thought of I Know Someone.

After chatting a while, Angoulême bid Hidden Blade farewell and left the empty room.

Before leaving, he quickly reviewed the intel, then inwardly sighed with a heavy heart.

Aren’t there way too many mystical incidents in Trier?

…

In the market district, Jenna seized a chance to act as a Witch again.

Wearing a black cloak and dark dress, she walked the shadowed street, pondering new acting directions as she looked for an opportunity.

I can’t just equate Witches with bad deeds. Sinister, dark acts aren’t necessarily bad…

Among the Witch legends I’ve gathered so far, many focused on Witches using mystical and sinister dark powers to help others fulfill desires, tempting them to stumble…

These legends likely contain remnants of acts by Demonesses posing as Witches. I could try imitating them. Plus, tempting others into depravity is a deeper way for an Instigator. Pleasure’s acting also corrupts the target…

Yes, the mystical powers of sinisterness and darkness, tempting depravity and depravity brings calamity…

Jenna’s thoughts gradually became more clear.

With these in mind, she turned onto Rue Anarchie, intending to find a chance to act as a Witch on this chaotic street.

After a few steps, Jenna suddenly heard someone singing hysterically, “Trier, a city dressed in gold,

“A ball that endures ’til dawn unfolds;

“Chicken roasted, dripping with oil’s grace,

“A castle cake to fill each eager embrace.

“A bow-tied attendant glides ‘mongst the guests,

“Merrily dancing with joy and delight.

“My beloved, hidden ‘midst the crowd,

“Among them, my love resides,

“In the Capital of Joy, forever Trier!”

This voice… Jenna peered from the shadows at Auberge du Coq Doré and saw Lumian, in a thick brown jacket, sitting on the third floor windowsill, holding a green liquid-filled bottle.

Hadn’t he gone to the Aurora Order and never returned? Jenna frowned and stepped out of the shadow.

Lumian noticed her and smiled. He leaped down from the third floor, landing steadily before her.

“Why are you here?” Jenna asked with concern.

Lumian smiled casually. “I suddenly missed this place. Came back for a drink.”

Sensing Lumian’s strange excitement, Jenna pondered a moment then asked, “Did something happen?”

“No,” Lumian denied quickly. He emphasized, “I’m fine.”

With an absinthe bottle in hand, he headed towards Rue Anarchie’s exit. Jenna trailed closely behind, not inquiring further.

Under the crimson moonlight and scattered gas lamps, the silent Lumian suddenly smiled and announced, “I’m about to start blaspheming. No, it’s already begun.”

He didn’t turn around and kept walking.

“Haven’t you been blaspheming all this while?” Jenna cautiously probed with Lumian’s usual self-deprecation.

Lumian’s gaze stayed fixed ahead as he smiled. “It’s different this time.”

He quickened his pace and didn’t mention it again.

Jenna glanced at Lumian’s muddy leather boots and the dirty but dry surroundings. She pursed her lips and didn’t press further.

Lumian continued walking, occasionally humming a tune, occasionally chatting with Jenna and joking with a smile.

He made his way back to his rented apartment and entered his room.

Jenna stood quietly in the living room, watching Lumian close the bedroom’s wooden door.

In the dark room, lit only by crimson moonlight, Lumian sat at his desk, unfolded a piece of paper, and picked up a fountain pen.

He didn’t light the gas wall lamp, nor create a blazing fireball. In the pitch-black, he positioned the pen under the faint light.

Amidst paper rustling, Lumian’s smile faded, and his wrist slowed.

Finally, he penned the unusually brief letter: “Honorable Madam Magician, I’d like to meet you.”