Countermeasures

Looking at the reconstructed "letter of distress," Lumian fell into a long silence. While this might not be the exact content of the letter—after all, without much regard for grammar, those words could form different sentences, such as "The people around need help as soon as possible, we are growing stranger and stranger"—it still weighed on him with an indescribable heaviness, as though something were pressing down upon his heart. In the past, he might have dismissed it as a prank by the sender. But lately in Cordu Village, anomalies were genuinely growing more and more frequent, and this was only what he had managed to uncover. "I can't act like I haven't seen anything, nor can I pretend nothing has happened... "My sister said that a sane person knows to avoid danger—they don't keep standing under a wall once they see it's about to collapse..." Snapping out of his thoughts, Lumian made a swift decision: He had to leave Cordu Village as soon as possible, and with his sister! As for the anomalies here, official authorities would naturally step in to handle them, and the villagers would surely be protected by them. Lumian had neither the duty nor the capacity to shoulder such a responsibility. "Besides, I need to speed up my exploration of the dream ruins and strive to obtain Beyonder powers in the short term, just in case any accidents happen while we're leaving..." Lumian's mind grew clearer, yet urgency flooded his chest. What he feared most was an outbreak of the anomalies before he and his sister could get away. If that happened, he had to at least ensure he wouldn't hold his sister back—and the prerequisite for that was becoming considerably stronger than he was now. With that thought, Lumian returned his home's little blue book to its shelf, picked up the paper bearing the words and sentences he had just assembled, and hurried down the stairs. He deliberately went around to the hearth and tossed the sheet of paper into the fire. Stepping out the door, Lumian headed straight for the Old Tavern. The tavern door was closed tight. The owner and bartender, Maurice Bénet, had presumably gone to attend Naroka's funeral. However, since it also served as an inn, it was impossible for every door to remain locked during the day, barring guests from entering and leaving. Lumian rounded the path and pushed open the tavern's back door. Reaching the foot of the stairs, he glanced at the main hall and saw not a single soul. Thump, thump, thump. Lumian climbed up to the second floor and stopped outside the mysterious lady's room. Seeing no "Resting, Do Not Disturb" sign hanging from the doorknob, Lumian drew in a breath, exhaled slowly, curled his knuckles, and tapped lightly on the wooden door. Knock, knock, knock... He knocked three times in succession, but not a sound came from within. Knock, knock, knock... Lumian knocked harder, yet there was still no reply. He banged on it a few more times. Silence reigned in the room. "Not here?" Lumian frowned. "Did she go watch Naroka's funeral?" Wasting no more time, he hurried down the stairs, exited the tavern, and headed straight toward the cemetery beside the church. Along the way, he passed Naroka's home. By now, the crowd of mourners outside had completely dispersed, having all moved on to wait at the cemetery. Lumian looked over from a distance and happened to spot Pons Bénet, the padre's younger brother, coming out of the house. "What...?" Startled, he instinctively leaned toward the adjacent building, retreating behind its cover. During a funeral, weren't people forbidden from entering the house, lest it disrupt the constellations and carry away good fortune? Pons Bénet lingered at Naroka's doorstep, exchanging a few quiet words with the old woman's youngest son, a middle-aged man named Arnaud André. Once Pons Bénet walked away, Arnaud locked the front door and set off toward the cemetery. "Naroka's death really is suspicious..." Lumian frowned, murmuring silently to himself. He now suspected that Naroka's death might not have been caused by that owl at all; it was far more likely connected to the clandestine, bizarre dealings of the padre and his circle. Perhaps that owl had simply been carrying out its duty, arriving in Cordu Village to guide away the soul of the deceased, pausing along the way to observe Lumian for a time. Of course, Lumian also entertained an even more chilling suspicion: The padre and his clique might very well have some connection to the owl! Their peculiarities, the things they did in secret—the initial source of it all might well be whatever that sorcerer had left behind. "Before leaving Cordu Village, I should find a chance to share these suspicions with Leyn and Lia. Hopefully, they can uncover the truth and resolve the problem quickly." Drawing back his gaze, Lumian pondered the matter as he walked toward the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. Throughout the funeral, Lumian appeared silent and solemn, but in truth, he was constantly observing every villager, hoping to spot something amiss in their expressions. Unfortunately, he found nothing. Even so, the effort gave him a strange, lingering impression: Some of the villagers seemed to be wearing some sort of false mask... Meanwhile, the mysterious lady who had given him the tarot cards never showed up at the cemetery. ... As dusk approached, inside the semi-subterranean two-story residence. "Where's the test paper you were doing?" Aurore glanced at her brother as he approached and casually asked, "Let me see it." With a grave expression, Lumian said, "I have something to tell you." Aurore's gaze swept over his face. "Did some wild animal in the village run off with your test paper again?" "No," Lumian replied in a low voice. "I learned some things from those outlanders." Aurore's smile faded, and she nodded for him to continue. Starting from how Leyn and the others were investigating a distress letter, Lumian recounted the anomaly with the little blue book in their home, his suspicions regarding Madame Pualis, and how he had borrowed the little blue book from Raymond's house to roughly reconstruct the letter's contents. Finally, he suggested, "Let's leave the village as soon as possible. We can go to Dariège—no, Bigorre—and stay there for a while." Aurore did not answer immediately. She pondered for a good dozen seconds before speaking: "That is indeed the best choice right now. "However, there's a problem. If we suddenly leave Cordu in a hurry just as official personnel have begun their investigation, won't that arouse their suspicion and lead them to stop and interrogate us? "If I weren't a Beyonder, that wouldn't matter much. But I'm an unsanctioned wild Beyonder—the kind the Inquisition would seize and purge." Lacking experience, Lumian had completely overlooked this issue earlier, and for a moment he did not know what to say. After a brief pause, he ventured, "Force our way out, and then hide in another city, or even another country?" "Are you overestimating me a little too much?" Aurore chuckled helplessly. "From what I've observed, all three outlanders seem quite formidable. If there were only one, I might be able to handle it, but there are three of them. Besides, how do you know there isn't a larger force lying in ambush outside the village, just waiting for suspects to panic, expose themselves, and make a run for it?" Lumian was left speechless. He had to admit that compared to his sister, he was still far too green and naive, lacking meticulous foresight when it counted most. "You, you're still too rash," Aurore critiqued. "Though that's only natural. What young man doesn't have a bit of hotheadedness?" She paused, then added, "Tomorrow morning, go to the administrator's office and help me send a telegram to Novel Weekly. Ask them when the writer salon they mentioned earlier is taking place." Aurore was a columnist for Novel Weekly, and quite popular with its readers. In Cordu Village, only the administrator and the padre each possessed a telegraph machine for emergency external communications. It wasn't impossible for villagers to use them under normal circumstances, but they had to pay enough ferrins for the privilege. Seeing Lumian's bewildered expression, Aurore smiled and briefly explained, "Novel Weekly has always wanted to invite me to Trier for various events, and I've turned them all down, including the recent writer salon. "Now that I'm taking the initiative to ask about it, they'll surely invite me with great enthusiasm—they might even reimburse our round-trip steam locomotive tickets. "That way, our departure will look completely natural. Even if we're watched in secret, we won't be treated as suspects. "When the time comes, I have ways to briefly deceive them. As long as the two of us truly haven't been corrupted by the anomalies, there's a very high probability we'll leave Cordu smoothly." "Alright." Lumian couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. A few seconds later, curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Aurore, er, Sis, is 'Beyonder' the term for people with supernatural powers?" "Yes." Aurore did not elaborate. Instead, she smiled teasingly. "To think you'd be willing to abandon your friends and just flee Cordu." "Whether other people live or die is none of my business," Lumian scoffed. Right now, the most important thing was ensuring his sister's safety! Aurore clicked her tongue in amusement. "Come on, say what you just said one more time—I love hearing it. "How many times have you said things like that before? Yet every single time, you either secretly lend a hand or pretend to drop casual warnings for them." "Those were all minor things," Lumian protested defensively. The current anomalies, however, posed a threat to his sister. "Fine, fine." Aurore wore an expression that said she wouldn't argue with a kid. "Time to make dinner. It's your turn today." Lumian gave an affirmative grunt and headed toward the hearth. ... Night fell, dark and gloomy, the crimson moon veiled behind thick clouds. Having washed up, Lumian lay down in bed. A look of pronounced worry gradually surfaced on his face. Aurore's plan wasn't bad, but Lumian worried that while they waited for the reply from Novel Weekly, the village's anomalies might erupt. Because of that, he felt an overwhelming urge to enhance his own strength, and obtaining Beyonder powers in the dream ruins was currently the most accessible path available to him. To his regret, he hadn't managed to find that lady all day and couldn't get any advice from her, leaving him to make an attempt on his own first. For him, the situation had reached a point where the arrow was notched on the bow, the string drawn taut—it had to be released. Without hesitation, Lumian focused his mind and gradually drifted into sleep.