The Informant

The lady was eating a croissant and took a moment before answering Lumian. "I do." *She really knows...* Lumian felt a surge of joy. Weighing his words, he asked, "Could I pay a certain price to ask for your help in resolving Cordu's problem?" He had switched back to an honorific. In his eyes, this mysterious lady was undoubtedly far stronger than Lia and her two companions—vastly stronger. If she were willing to help, the crisis in Cordu Village would cease to be a problem, and he and his sister would not have to risk fleeing. The only issue was whether he could afford the corresponding price. As for whether she would agree, Lumian had no confidence whatsoever—in fact, he was quite pessimistic. He simply felt that given the current situation, it was necessary to try. Even if he were refused, he would only lose a bit of face, and he hardly cared about that. The lady turned her head toward Lumian and said in a calm tone, "I indeed can resolve the problem here, but the price would be the destruction of everything, including you. "If you want a better outcome, you can only rely on yourselves." *The problem is that severe?* Lumian's pupils dilated at once. He tried to read her subtle expression to see if she was joking. Her refusal to help did not surprise him in the least, nor did it leave him disappointed. What shocked him was that the issue facing Cordu Village was far graver than he had anticipated—it might even result in the destruction of the entire village! *If she can solve it, why would the entire village end up dead, while ordinary folks like us and Beyonders who aren't powerful enough can strive for a better outcome?* Lumian was both baffled and terrified. He made up his mind: if he still did not receive a telegram reply from Novel Weekly the day after tomorrow, he would urge his sister to leave Cordu Village immediately. Even if it meant taking great risks, they could delay no longer! "What on earth is the problem?" Lumian, who had never cared much for propriety, pressed on. The lady gave a slight smile. "The outcome would also be completely different if I told you versus if you investigated it yourself." Lumian instinctively ground his teeth. He thoroughly detested this habit of only revealing a sliver and refusing to explain things clearly. For some reason, he felt that the strange emotion in her eyes had grown a bit more pronounced. "Alright." Lumian thought for a moment before changing the subject. "Do you know Madame Pualis? Is she also a sorcerer—er, a Beyonder?" "You could say that." The lady picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. *She really is...* Lumian inquired further, "Which pathway, and which Sequence?" The next second, he saw the lady's expression turn slightly sterner. "Not a normal pathway." "What do you mean, not a normal pathway?" Lumian pursued. The lady smiled. "You will find out in the future." *I want to know right now...* Lumian fought to keep his expression under control. Already on his feet, he was about to leave when a crucial question suddenly struck him: "Madam, how am I supposed to bring those supplementary ingredients into the dream?" Given the state of the dream ruins, the most he could scrounge up at home were red wine and basil—spices and provisions that well-off households kept on hand. The red chestnut flowers and white poplar leaves would have to be gathered in the waking world. Though neither was hard to find—Lumian had already figured out where he could "borrow" them—getting his hands on them was useless if he had no way to transfer them into the dream. The lady smiled and said, "I'll offer one more small favor, free of charge. "Find those ingredients in reality, and before you go to sleep, place them on the table in your bedroom. I will deliver them into the dream for you." *She can send things into my dream?* Lumian was startled at first, then breathed a sigh of relief that the dilemma was resolved. He had not expected that a second person could "enter" the dream he considered so unique. Recalling that his special access to the dream ruins most likely stemmed from the bizarre symbols on his chest, he suspected that the lady before him was also connected to those symbols, or to that eerie, terrifying voice. Leaving the Old Tavern, Lumian planned to gather the red chestnut flowers and white poplar leaves right away. Just then, he saw Leyn, Lia, and Valentay emerge from the path leading to the tavern's back door, dressed in the same clothes and styling as before. Lumian's heart stirred, and he walked over with a grin. "Good morning, my cabbages." Lia tilted her head, smiling amid the chiming of her bells. "You're up early too." Lumian immediately put on a sneaky demeanor, darting glances to the left and right before lowering his voice. "I noticed something unusual yesterday." Leyn's expression straightened. He exchanged glances with Valentay and Lia before asking, "What was it?" Lumian said with a faint trace of fear, "I suspect Naroka's death wasn't normal—the woman whose funeral you watched yesterday." Leyn gave an encouraging look, prompting him to go on. Lumian exhaled. "Didn't I tell you about the funeral customs in the Dariège region? Later, after everyone left for the cemetery, Pons Bénet entered Naroka's house, and the hosts didn't object. "Isn't that disrupting their family's astrological influence and taking away their good luck? "There's definitely something wrong!" "Pons Bénet is the padre's brother?" Leyn thought for a few seconds before asking. Lumian nodded firmly. Thinking of the anomalies surrounding the padre and his clique, and remembering that he and his sister were soon leaving Cordu Village—with no need to worry about being silenced or facing retribution later—he stated bluntly, "That padre is no good man!" "Why do you say that?" Lia asked with a smile. She was not surprised in the least by Lumian's accusation against the padre. Lumian did not hold back. He recounted the incident where a villager had gone to Dariège to inform on him and subsequently vanished, focusing heavily on the allegations made against the padre. Finally, he concluded, "I really doubt whether he's even a clergyman of the Church. "Once, because a story I told was too vivid and made certain people uncomfortable, I had to take refuge in the church for a while. "Just as I was about to fall asleep behind the altar, the padre walked in with Madame Pualis, and the two of them engaged in filthy acts right under the gaze of the deity. "In the casual chat afterward, the padre even lamented to Madame Pualis, saying, 'Why can't a man marry his own sisters?' "Madame Pualis couldn't stomach that at all. She called it a heinous sin and told the padre to repent immediately. "Yet the padre said, 'Many fine families lose immense fortunes and eventually ruin themselves because their daughters marry off and their other sons leave to start their own households. If a son could marry his sisters, these problems would cease to be problems. What a pity that both law and morality forbid it'..." Hearing this, the aloof Valentay turned livid. "Is he a servant of God, or a servant of the Devil?" Leyn nodded as though lost in thought. "No wonder Pons Bénet hasn't been allowed to establish an independent household despite being married for so many years..." Lia looked Lumian up and down, then chuckled softly. "So you knew all along that Madame Pualis was having an affair with the padre, and you were trying to use us that day." Lumian offered an embarrassed grin before instantly putting on a righteous face. "As a believer of the Eternal Blazing Sun, I cannot bear to see such a man standing inside a church." The aloof Valentay's expression softened, and he nodded approvingly. "If only Cordu Village had a few more people like you." *A few more like me?* Lumian shuddered to think what Cordu Village would turn into under such circumstances. He went on to add, "That time, I also overheard the padre tell Madame Pualis that he was scheming something that might draw the attention of the Inquisition, and warned her to be careful not to let anything slip." Leyn's expression grew solemn at once. "Did he mention anything specific?" "No." Lumian did not make things up blindly. It was enough to say this much. If he said any more, the situation might blow wide open tonight, before he even had the chance to become a Beyonder. After parting ways with the three outlanders, Lumian spent quite some time gathering the red chestnut flowers and white poplar leaves. Toward noon, he arrived at the square and made his way to the two-story building where the administrator conducted official business. By this point, most of the villagers had gathered here, waiting to elect the Spring Spirit. Part of the Lent Festival celebrations would begin tomorrow. Lumian spotted Raymond, Ava, and the others, and squeezed his way over. "Is Ava on the list?" he asked. Ava remained silent, clearly ill at ease, while Raymond shook his head. "Don't know." "Ava's definitely on it. Among the unmarried women in the village, aside from your sister, she's the prettiest, and your sister doesn't meet the age requirement," Guillaume Béry chimed in from the side. He was the Little Guillaume Lumian and the others often spoke of, one of their regular companions. He had wavy brown hair, noticeable freckles on his face, and blue eyes that always seemed squinted because they were rather small. Ava's cousin Azéma was also present, looking like a slightly smaller, plainer version of Ava. At the moment, she said nothing. Lumian understood her feelings, for she too wished to be the Spring Spirit. In the Dariège region, being chosen as the Spring Spirit was not only public recognition of one's beauty and character, but it also brought subtle benefits. Hearing Little Guillaume's words, Lumian grinned. "If she isn't, as soon as the administrator finishes reading the list, I'll yell at the top of my lungs: 'I vote for Ava!'" Ava suddenly looked a little embarrassed. "No need." This was actually part of the normal procedure. After the administrator read the list of Spring Spirit candidates, any villager who had their own choice could shout it out on the spot to add them to the vote. However, very few people were thick-skinned enough to do so, though Lumian was one of them. He was entirely unabashed about it: *It's Ava who'd be embarrassed, not me anyway.* Before long, a window on the second floor swung open, and Administrator Béost appeared. Outwardly, he looked vastly superior to the padre. Neatly combed brown hair dusted with powder, light-blue eyes lined with black, a straight nose, slightly thin lips, and two well-groomed moustaches gave him quite a handsome appearance, while his double-breasted flannel coat accentuated his status. Béost looked down upon the crowd for a few seconds. "Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come. Latecomers will no longer have the right to vote. "Now, I shall read the list of candidates for the Spring Spirit: "Ava Lizzie..." Hearing this, Ava let out a visible sigh of relief. Without any surprises, she received the approval of over eighty percent of the villagers in the show of hands. Once the voting concluded, Lumian did not join his four companions to celebrate. Claiming he had business at home, he left the square directly. The moment he walked in the door, he asked his sister, "Any reply to the telegram?" If there was a reply, the telegraph operator would deliver it to their home and collect a small fee while at it. "Not yet." Aurore shook her head. She turned to him and added, "Undercurrents are surging lately. You mustn't slack off in the slightest with your combat training. Mm, I'll spar with you this afternoon." Lumian was already aching all over, and at her words, he sucked in a quiet breath. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He deliberately pulled a long face and said, "I don't know if I've been training too hard lately, but my whole body hurts today. Aurore—er, Sis, could you give me a massage? You're the best at it!" "Alright then." Aurore nodded gently. ... By evening, his sister's stretches and massages, combined with ample rest, had Lumian's body mostly recovered. Before going to sleep, he placed three red chestnut flowers and a bottle of powdered white poplar leaves on the table by the window. Taking a deep look at them, Lumian crawled under the covers, filled with anticipation and a touch of nervousness.