Confirmation

After several seconds of silence, Lumian looked into Aurore's eyes and slowed his speech. "Lent is still days away?" He suspected his sister was pulling a reverse prank on him, but in all these years, he had never known her to act frivolous about matters of importance. Right now was a critical moment involving the survival of the entire village, including the two of them. Aurore looked her brother up and down. "Did you just take an afternoon nap and sleep your brains out? "Today is March 29, 1358. Lent is still days away." *March 29...* Lumian chewed over the date, suddenly struck by the feeling that he might be dreaming right now. He had clearly lived through that festival, which had begun with celebration and ended in bloodshed. He had clearly watched Ava's head get chopped off with an axe by the shepherd Pierre Berry, blood spraying into the air... Was he dreaming now, or had he been dreaming before? Whichever it was, wasn't it far too real? Lumian couldn't detect the slightest trace of a lie on his sister's face. Of course, one could explain it away by claiming Aurore was a consummate actor, but Lumian trusted that she was absolutely not that kind of person. Over five years of living together, there were countless details. It was simply impossible for her to deceive him about who she was! There were only two plausible explanations for Aurore lying to him about the date: First, she was under the control of the parish priest or someone hidden in the shadows; Second, the crisis had already been resolved completely, leaving her in the mood to joke around and play pranks. If neither held true, then there was an overwhelming likelihood that she was telling the truth: Time had truly returned to March 29, days before Lent. According to Lumian's common sense, this was plainly impossible, something that shouldn't exist in the real world. Yet his sister's attitude left him utterly bewildered. *I have to find a way to confirm this...* Lumian strained his memory, recalling his experiences over this period, and found that he could still remember the vast majority of the details. For instance, on the March 29 that had led to the "successful" celebration of Lent, Aurore had indeed worn this light blue dress. That very night, he had also encountered the three outlanders—Lia, Leyn, and Valentay—and led them to the church to catch the parish priest in the act of adultery. "What is it?" Aurore reached out her right hand and waved it in front of her inexplicably dazed brother. Snapping back to his senses, Lumian said hurriedly, "Aurore, I just remembered something. I need to run out for a bit. "I'll be right back!" The best way to confirm whether time had truly turned back to March 29 was to find Ava! If she was still alive, Lumian would have to seriously consider whether to accept this unbelievable turn of events. Without waiting for Aurore's reply, Lumian brushed past her and dashed out the door. "Call me big sister! Don't miss dinner!" Aurore called after him, raising her voice. Once out of the house, Lumian sprinted toward Ava Lizzie's home, terrified that a single second's delay would allow that unspeakable nightmare to catch up and swallow him whole. Along the way, he drew plenty of sidelong glances from the villagers, but no one stopped him to ask why. They feared it was merely an act he had staged, waiting for them to fall for his trick. At last, Lumian reached his destination. Ava's father, Guillaume Lizzie, was a well-known shoemaker in Cordu Village and the surrounding mountainous area. The family's circumstances were neither poor nor wealthy. Their house was likewise a semi-subterranean two-story grey-blue building, fronting an open patch behind where hay and firewood were piled and a goose pen stood. By this hour, nearing dinnertime, several figures were bustling about inside the Lizzie kitchen. Lumian walked straight in through the open doorway and caught sight of Ava at once. The brown-haired girl with aqua-blue eyes was dressed in a greyish-white dress, helping her mother prepare dinner. Her movements were nimble and her eyes bright and lively—unmistakably a living person. *She really isn't dead...* Lumian instinctively looked toward Ava's neck, searching for any signs of stitching. One of Aurore's horror novels featured a scene where severed body parts were stitched together to pose as a living person. However, Ava's neck was slender and smooth, without a single scar. "Lumian, is something the matter?" Sitting on a kitchen chair, the shoemaker Guillaume Lizzie noticed the uninvited guest. His brown hair was disheveled, and a slightly greasy brownish-white apron hung over his chest. He stood up at an unhurried pace and walked toward Lumian. Hearing her father's greeting, Ava paused her work, turned in surprise, and looked toward the doorway. She immediately saw Lumian standing there, looking both stunned and bewildered. "Is something the matter?" she chimed in. Lumian snapped out of it, intending to fabricate an excuse on the fly. Yet the approach of Guillaume Lizzie the shoemaker sparked an instant flash of inspiration. He measured his words and said, "Uncle Guillaume, did Pierre from the Berry family custom-order a pair of leather shoes from you?" Lumian remembered vividly that he and Raymond "would" run into the shepherd Pierre Berry tomorrow morning, surprised that he had abandoned his flock and braved the hardships and dangers of a long trek just to return for Lent. Back then, Pierre Berry had already been wearing a brand-new pair of soft leather shoes. Unless bought from a ready-made shoe shop in Dariège, crafting a pair of leather shoes took time, which meant Pierre Berry had returned to the village at least two or three days ago! "How did you know?" Guillaume Lizzie asked, rather surprised. "Pierre Berry came back a few days ago, but hardly anyone in the village knows. He even asked me not to tell anyone." *As expected...* Lumian spun his tale. "I saw someone who looked a lot like him and thought I was seeing things. "Since that person was wearing new leather shoes, I came to check with you." "It was him," Guillaume Lizzie gave a firm answer. "He was driving three or four sheep at the time, said his employer had given them to him." *Aren't flocks supposed to return to the village in early May for shearing and milking? Why bring a few sheep back now? How is he going to graze them? The highland pastures are still in the grazing ban period...* The more Lumian thought about it, the more abnormal the shepherd Pierre Berry's behavior seemed. And his actions at the end of the festival had proven Lumian's suspicions correct. Even so, Lumian had no way of knowing what Pierre Berry, the parish priest, and the others were trying to achieve, or what they had already done. With that in mind, Lumian smiled at Guillaume Lizzie and Ava. "I'm relieved it was really him. I thought I'd been drinking so much that my brain and eyes were failing me at the same time." He waved to the Lizzie family. "Goodbye." The moment he left their house, the smile on Lumian's face quickly faded. He was now largely certain that today was truly March 29. *Did time flow backward, or did I have a prophetic dream? A dream couldn't possibly be that realistic, down to every single detail...* Lumian strained his mind as he walked. Whether turning back time or prophetic dreams, he had only ever learned about such concepts from Aurore's novels; he had never imagined they could happen in reality. On the way home, Lumian deliberately detoured to the square, coming around to the side of the Eternal Blazing Sun church. The stained-glass window that should have been completely shattered, its frame torn clean from the wall, was set securely in place. The depiction of Saint Sixte's missionary work on its surface shone with radiant, shifting colors in the glow of the sunset. Lumian looked upon the sight with an intensely complicated expression, feeling as though the friction of all the colliding thoughts in his head would soon produce white smoke. As he made his way back toward the square, he saw a familiar figure emerge from the church's main doors. It was Parish Priest Guillaume Bénet, with his slightly hooked nose, imposing aura, and white robe trimmed with gold thread. Lumian's chest tightened. He set his legs slightly apart, his body adopting a faint crouch. This was both preparation to launch an attack and the preliminary stance for turning and sprinting away. Guillaume Bénet glanced at him and nodded expressionlessly. "Come back to pray tomorrow." *Uh... Right, on the evening of March 29, he hasn't been caught in adultery by the people I brought, we haven't torn off all pretenses yet, and he doesn't have any worries about his secret plot being exposed...* Realizing this, Lumian reacted on instinct. Straightening up, he spread his arms. "Praise the Sun!" "Praise the Sun!" Guillaume Bénet mirrored the gesture. After leaving the village square, Lumian habitually reviewed what had just happened. Suddenly, he noticed a detail he had overlooked in his initial shock over time turning back. His Beyonder abilities were still with him! He was still a Hunter! Whether it was the fact that he hadn't lost his breath after sprinting all the way to the Lizzie house, or the instant, optimal reaction he had adopted when facing the parish priest, everything showed that his physical constitution and corresponding state far exceeded what they had been before taking the potion! From this, Lumian drew a conclusion: That earlier experience was no prophetic dream! He was already a Sequence 9 Beyonder! *Tonight I'll try entering that special dreamscape to see if I still can, and whether anything has changed...* Lumian quickly formed his next plan. Returning home, he acted as if nothing had happened and shared dinner with his sister, Aurore. Because her brother got into trouble all the time and disliked having her clean up after him every single instance, he would act like this from time to time. Aurore took note of it, but didn't press the matter. After washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, Lumian told his sister he was stepping out and headed straight for the Old Tavern. He wanted to confirm whether those outlanders who didn't belong to Cordu Village would appear. Inside the Old Tavern, Lumian sat down at the bar and greeted the owner-bartender Maurice Bénet, the gaunt middle-aged Pierre Guillaume, and the others. "A glass of sour wine," he said familiarly. Sour wine referred to cheap cider. In the tavern, it was only slightly more expensive than some beers, and street vendors in the cities frequently hawked it. "Stingy boy, don't you love the bitter sting of absinthe?" Maurice Bénet grumbled. "Are you buying?" Lumian gave the familiar retort. It gave him a distinct sense of unreality. Maurice Bénet immediately went quiet. He poured a glass of sour wine and slid it to Lumian. Taking small sips, Lumian waited. Before long, he heard a chiming, tinkling sound. Turning around, he saw Leyn wearing a simple dark bowler hat, a brown coarse tweed coat, and pale yellow trousers. Meanwhile, the one drawing the gazes of nearly every man in the tavern was Lia. She was still in her unpleated white cashmere form-fitting dress paired with a cream-colored cropped jacket and Maxiel boots, two silver bells tied to her boots and two to the veil serving as her headscarf. Likewise, Valentay wore a white vest, a blue fine wool coat, and black trousers, his yellow hair lightly dusted with powder. Beneath a barrage of stares, the three of them walked to the bar and sat down beside Lumian in turn. *A glass of Dariège red wine, a glass of rye beer, and a glass of Spicy Heart...* Without looking up, Lumian said the words silently to himself. Leyn took off his hat, set it aside, and said to Maurice Bénet, "A glass of Dariège red wine, a glass of rye beer, and a glass of Spicy Heart." Hearing that, Lumian let out a long, long sigh. "What is it?" Leyn turned his head toward him. Taking a sip of his sour wine, Lumian said in a low voice, "I'm a failure. I hardly ever notice whether the sun shines brightly or not, because I never have the time..."