Customs

Lumian held his breath instinctively and drew back a little. Naroka did not come in his direction. Slowly, so very slowly, she entered the small grove of trees and vanished into the deep night. "Something is off with her... Did something happen?" Lumian felt a prickle of worry. Lately, strange occurrences in the village were becoming more and more frequent. He gazed outside a while longer. The night had settled back into stillness, with only the swaying leaves testifying to the wind. "What are you looking at?" Aurore's voice suddenly sounded behind him. Rather than alarmed, Lumian was glad. Turning around to face his sister in her two-piece pajamas, he asked, "Did you notice something wrong too?" "No." Aurore's golden hair hung slightly tousled and fluffy, a clear sign she had only just gotten out of bed. She added with evident annoyance, "I didn't see anything wrong. All I know is that someone isn't sleeping in the middle of the night, wandering back and forth by the window." "Dawn is at most an hour away, how can you call it the middle of the night..." Lumian habitually mumbled a retort before asking, "You didn't come because that owl flew back outside the window? You didn't see Naroka out there?" "Naroka?" For once, a blank look crossed Aurore's face. Lumian hid nothing, recounting everything from waking up and spotting the dark silhouette outside to the strange state Naroka was in as she walked into the woods. As for the peculiarities triggered by his dream meditation, he intended to consult that mysterious lady before deciding how to tell Aurore—or perhaps keep it from her a bit longer so his sister wouldn't stop him from obtaining Beyonder powers. Aurore's shapely golden brows knitted together. "Naroka might already have run into trouble... "Go check on her house once it's daylight." "What kind of trouble?" Lumian asked instinctively. "How should I know? I didn't see it myself, so I can't make an accurate judgment," Aurore answered testily. "You really didn't see it?" Lumian had assumed his sister had been monitoring everything all along. Aurore scoffed softly. "Do you think you can just look at whatever you want? If you look at something you shouldn't, you'd be picking out a burial plot for me next. "I don't look outside for no reason. I only keep an eye on your condition and wake up if something is wrong." *My sister is taking such huge risks to watch over me...* Lumian was momentarily stunned and couldn't help blinking. Aurore added with earnest solemnity, "That's why I told you: don't look at what you shouldn't look at, and don't listen to what you shouldn't listen to. Pursuing Beyonder powers is a very dangerous thing." "Yeah." Lumian nodded solemnly. At the same time, he said silently in his heart, *It's precisely because it's dangerous that I can't let you walk this path alone.* *** After breakfast, carrying his sister's instructions, Lumian headed straight for Naroka's house. Before he even drew close, he saw many villagers gathered outside the door. Among them were several of his companions, Ava's father Guillaume Lizier, Raymond's father Pierre Craig, the padre's younger brother Pons Bénet, and others. "What happened?" Lumian carefully skirted past Pons Bénet and the few thugs surrounding him, stepping up beside Raymond. Raymond answered with deep sorrow, "Naroka passed away." "Ah?" Though Lumian had prepared himself for Naroka running into trouble, he hadn't expected her to already be dead. Raymond rambled on, "Before dawn this morning, the padre came to administer her last rites. "When we asked her about the sorcerer legend a couple of days ago, she was still fine and full of spirit. How could she pass away so suddenly..." *Before dawn this morning?* A jolt ran through Lumian's heart. That was precisely when he had seen Naroka's silhouette, and the padre's last rites would have been either slightly earlier or slightly later—not far off at all. *So what I saw was actually Naroka's ghost? It happened right after that owl flew over and stared at me... Can it really take human souls? Well, Naroka was one of the surviving eyewitnesses from the sorcerer incident back then... If I hadn't listened to my sister and stayed inside after dark, maybe the one receiving the padre's last rites would have been me. Ha, his last rites for me would probably be spitting in my face...* Thoughts raced continuously through Lumian's mind. Raymond did not converse further either, standing outside the two-story house in quiet mourning for Naroka. Collecting his thoughts, Lumian saw the three outlanders—Lia, Leyn, and Valentay—walking over. "Did something happen here?" Before Lumian could greet them, Lia spoke up first. They had noticed the crowd gathered on the road. Lumian let out a sigh. "My cabbages, a respected elderly lady has passed away." "Then why are you all standing outside the door?" Lia didn't offer condolences right away, finding Lumian's words somewhat untrustworthy. She was still wearing the same outfit as before. Lumian immediately made a show of sizing her up from top to bottom, making Lia feel a little uneasy. "What is it?" Leyn asked. Lumian smiled. "You're definitely not locals from Dariège." "We're from Bigorre," Leyn answered frankly. Bigorre was the provincial capital of Leston Province in the Republic of Intis, while Dariège was a city on the southern border of Leston Province, overseeing a vast area that included Cordu Village. "No wonder you don't know the customs of the Dariège region." Lumian nodded. He had previously assumed these three outlanders were official figures sent from Dariège, but it turned out they were from the provincial capital, Bigorre. *Their status seems quite a bit higher than I anticipated...* Lumian silently updated his assessment of Lia and her companions. "What kind of customs?" Lia asked with interest. "Could you tell us?" Lumian had wanted to get on good terms with them anyway, so he smiled and said, "You're my cabbages, how could I not tell you? "As you know, every person corresponds to their own constellation. In the Dariège region, we also believe that every family has its own constellation that produces corresponding luck, and the death and funeral of a family member—especially the head of the household—will carry that good fortune away. "To avoid disrupting the constellation and to retain the luck, before burial we place the deceased at the center of the household, which is the kitchen. Then we cut off a portion of their hair and nails to hide forever inside the house, where guests can never find them. "At such times, if funeral attendees enter the house, it would disrupt the corresponding constellation and carry off part of the luck. That's why we mourn outside the door, at most taking a look from the entrance, and then wait at the cemetery beside the church." "I see." Leyn nodded gently. "It's just like the holy relics kept in every regional cathedral—'wherever a portion of the holy body remains, there a saint shall forever abide.'" He turned toward Naroka's house, removed his top hat, held it to his chest, and began a moment of silent prayer. Lia and Valentay followed suit in expressing their condolences. Once they had finished, Lumian said to them, "I'm going to the doorway to view the body. See you later, my cabbages." "All right," Leyn replied with a gentle nod. Lowering his voice, Lumian added, "I'll help you find that little blue book." Without waiting for Lia or the others to respond, he stepped aside and said with a grin, "Why do you wear the same clothes every day?" "When you have to stay in an unfamiliar place for a while, you can't be too fussy about appearances," Leyn explained simply, while Lia unconsciously touched the silver bells hanging from her veil. Parting ways with Valentay and the others, Lumian walked over to the entrance of Naroka's house. After waiting in line for a short while, it was finally his turn. He stood by the door and looked ahead into the kitchen. Naroka's body had not yet been placed in a coffin, resting quietly on a crude bed assembled from several benches. Her nails had already been clipped, and her sparse white hair was considerably neater than usual. Her face was a pale, bluish-gray hue, which, combined with her wrinkles, made even a bold young man like Lumian hesitate to gaze at her for too long. *Compared to when I saw her before dawn, her face is even paler and bluer...* Lumian murmured inwardly, gave a slight bow, and left the entrance. On the way toward the cemetery with Raymond, he suddenly slapped his forehead. "Oh, I forgot to tell Aurore." "Then hurry back and tell her," Raymond said understandingly. Aurore rarely liked going out; without her brother, she really had no way of knowing what was happening in the village. Seizing the opening, Lumian said, "It just so happens your house isn't far from here. Lend me your little blue book for a couple of days. The one at my house had several pages chewed up by mice, so I need to copy them down." "Sure," Raymond agreed. At any rate, there was still a long time before the burial. *** "Naroka passed away," Lumian said to Aurore after hiding the little blue book and returning home. Aurore couldn't help letting out a sigh. "Something really did happen. "I wonder if it was caused by that owl..." "I suspect so too," Lumian echoed his sister. Aurore gave an affirmative hum. "After dark, you absolutely must not leave the house. "As for the people looking into the sorcerer legend with you, find a way to warn them as well." "Understood." Lumian had already spooked Raymond earlier with the fact that Naroka died just two days after being asked about the sorcerer legend, telling him not to go out after dark for the time being. "Naroka was a good person. I'll go change and attend her funeral." As Aurore walked toward the staircase, she asked, "Are you coming with me, or do you want to read for a bit and finish an exam paper before going?" *Who does an exam paper at a time like this?* Sometimes Lumian really couldn't grasp his sister's train of thought. Considering that he needed to cross-reference the little blue book, he said to Aurore, "I'll do an exam paper before heading over." "Very good." Aurore felt quite gratified. After watching his sister leave, Lumian's expression turned grave. He went up to the second floor, entered the study, and took out the little blue book borrowed from Raymond's house to compare against the one from his own home that had words cut out. Time passed slowly. One by one, the corresponding words were located and written down on a blank sheet of paper. Lumian pieced them together carefully, then made adjustments based on the length of two sentences. Soon, the likely content of the distress letter appeared before his eyes: "We need help as soon as possible. "The people around us are becoming stranger and stranger."