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Their healing effects were quite impressive indeed.

Leaning back in his chair, Lumian gazed intently into Lugano Toscano’s eyes, pondering silently for some time.

Gradually Lugano grew uneasy, his body tensing up.

Finally Lumian smiled.

“Salle de Gristmill isn’t my property. I’m just managing it for the Boss.

“I’m not sure you can handle it, but I’ll give you a chance.”

Lugano visibly relaxed and smiled. “Boss, I won’t let you down!”

Lumian raised his voice to call Louis over.

“From now on, you’ll be Lugano’s deputy at the Gristmill. Manage it together.”

Is this for real? But why give an untested new recruit such an important post? Before Louis could react, Lumian had already turned to Lugano.

“You have two months. You and your friends will be the dance hall’s protectors for now. Take a portion of the profits; negotiate the details with the manager.”

He deliberately left the profit distribution vague, especially his own cut. He wanted to see what Lugano would do.

“Thank you, Boss!” Lugano’s joy was unconcealed.

He nearly blurted out, “Once I’m a Doctor, I’ll treat any illness or injury you have.” But that felt like cursing misfortune upon Lumian, so he quickly sealed his lips.

Watching them leave while discussing the dance hall, Lumian’s smile faded.

Lugano’s fawning and zeal made him suspect ulterior motives, like him with Baron Brignais and the fake diamond necklace.

But Lumian had cowed the Baron by showing his might and madness. The key was proving the value of exploiting him. Lugano was more focused on ingratiation. Of course, he had revealed his usefulness too.

That’s why Lumian decided to give him Salle de Gristmill for two months—to monitor any abnormalities and act quickly if the bounty hunter had hidden motives. Or gain a Doctor cheaply if he was clean.

Either way, it wouldn’t cost Lumian anything. Salle de Gristmill belonged to the Savoie Mob; he would just lose some of his own share. That could be offset by Lugano stabilizing the unruly dance hall.

After sitting awhile, Lumian left for Room 207 at Auberge du Coq Doré. Drawing the curtains, he sat at the table and began writing.

“Esteemed Madam Magician,

“I’ve officially joined the Iron Blood Cross Order.

“The initiation ritual was…

“I’m puzzled. The Order has members clearly not from the Hunter pathway. How did they pass the vigil? Assassins? Or did Gardner confirm their trustworthiness some other way, bypassing corruption?”

He almost asked about entering 13 Avenue du Marché at special times, but that was surely monitored by official Beyonders. It was unlikely anyone could approach then.

After neatly folding the letter, Lumian summoned the doll messenger on the altar.

Wary, he asked, “Am I still being watched?”

“No,” the doll slowly shook her head.

Relieved, Lumian scheduled reporting to Mr. K and heading to The Fool’s cathedral for a sermon.

After nearly fifteen minutes, Madam Magician replied:

“I once heard from Mr. Fool’s Oracle that a friend of his was originally in the Iron and Blood Cross Order but couldn’t stand it and fled to sea.

“I didn’t understand at first, but now I see—it’s been hard on you.”

It wasn’t so bad. Watching them perform was rather interesting, a study in human diversity… Lumian didn’t see an issue with it.

Something else concerned him more.

When mentioning the Oracle, Madam Magician didn’t say “one of.”

Lumian suspected Mr. Fool had only a single Oracle!

Meaning the Major Arcana card holders of the Divine Council weren’t considered Oracles.

Pondering this, Lumian read on:

“They might be Assassins or used another corruption method.

“Remind the Two of Cups—if accepting the vigil, bring the ancient underground mirror. Other than keeping in mind not to respond, it’s best to bring the ancient mirror that provides entry into the underground mirror world. Hunter/Demoness corruption likely differs. It may help.”

That mirror… Mulling it over, Lumian swiftly burned the letter in crimson flames.

Just as he was about to wash up, he sensed something and glanced at the door.

A series of knocks promptly came.

“Who is it?” he called.

A strained voice answered, “Guess who I am.”

Seated, Lumian looked helplessly at the bedbug-free ceiling. “Come in.”

As expected, it was Franca and Jenna, dressed as Assassins.

“Here to play Fighting Evil?” he joked.

Franca scoffed, “I don’t play cards with sore losers like you.”

Having tricked many into drinking excessively over card games recently, Lumian had been winning at Fighting Evil with the ladies and mocking their poor skills. Suspecting cheating, Franca had intensely coached her dancers the past few days.

Entering, Franca added, “We’re here to borrow mysticism magazines.”

Lumian sneered. “Nice try. Why come so late just for that? Is waiting till morning not an option? Jenna doesn’t seem the studying type.”

He smiled. “What’s really going on?”

The two gritted their teeth in sync.

After Franca shut the door, Jenna glanced around and whispered, “Are the walls too thin here? Could neighbors overhear us?”

Lumian smiled approvingly. “You’re learning—thinking about eavesdroppers now. Not like before, blabbing recklessly without a care.”

Before… Franca’s suspicious gaze shifted from Jenna to Lumian, then from Lumian to Jenna.

“Dammit! “We didn’t discuss anything important!” Jenna defended. “Why not mention Charlie? He spills secrets immediately.”

Charlie? Franca’s frown faded.

“It was fine—others were asleep or gone. That’s why I didn’t stop him.” Lumian stood, ritual dagger in hand. Letting spirituality flow from the blade, he enveloped the room in a wall of spirituality.

The singing and rowdiness on the streets and the inn’s noises instantly grew distant and muted.

Jenna was amazed. Franca pursed her lips and said to Jenna, “A basic wall of spirituality ritual. Once you become a Witch, you’ll naturally master it.”

At this point, she couldn’t help but imagine what Witch Jenna would look like.

The two ladies sat side by side by Lumian’s bed and discussed the missing Deep Valley Cloister gatekeeper, focused on their quarry findings tonight.

“What’s down there? What should we do?” Franca returned Lumian’s sedative.

Lumian smiled at his companion who wasn’t wearing red boots. “Don’t you have an answer already?”

With Franca’s experience, she surely had a plan by now.

Franca smiled awkwardly. “Just wanted your thoughts.”

“My thoughts?” Lumian joked, “Sneak in while the monk’s away for that 20,000 verl d’or!”

Jenna looked around warily. “Meaning it’s too dangerous to investigate further?”

Having heard Lumian’s mockery countless times now, she could distinguish sarcasm, well-meaning teasing, and jokes.

“Right,” said Franca. “Recalling the client, there seems to be an internal Deep Valley Cloister conflict—someone hiding, someone exposing. Meddling in an orthodox Church’s internal conflict is dangerous for any Beyonder.”

“Internal conflict?” Jenna was startled.

Lumian chuckled. “A missing gatekeeper, and some random person offers 20,000 to find him, even just the corpse? And said corpse needs to be carried to the Deep Valley Cloister. Clearly wants someone to see it.”

Jenna was almost convinced, but she still had a lot of doubts. “B-but the limbs in the cave seem too sinister for an orthodox Church.”