Circle of Inevitability

If I hadn't used anti-tracking, I would have encountered Loki? Lumian was taken aback by Termiboros's response.

All he wanted to know was whether the Prophecy Spell would work against Seer pathway Beyonders. It didn't matter if Termiboros answered or not. As a Contractee, he could answer his own question and acquire a bottle of Prophetic Concoction to test its effects. To his surprise, the Inevitability angel did provide an answer.

Lumian's mind raced as he dissected the information in that sentence.

After leaving Rue Ancienne, Loki had been tailing him for some time!

The source of the copied information had been a trap!

This noon, Loki had been at the Alone Bar!

He deliberately chose the Alone Bar's mechanical typewriter to make a copy of the information. His plan was that anyone chasing him would discover it, allowing him to start tracking the other party, aiming for a lethal strike.

And if the pursuer turned out to be formidable, he could ensure his basic safety by being inside Bureau 8's stronghold. He wouldn't be easily discovered. He could even manipulate Bureau 8, an official organization, to go after the other party.

With this in mind, Lumian felt a mixture of regret and relief.

Regrettably, he hadn't spotted Loki's pursuit after leaving Rue Ancienne until the anti-tracking process was finished. This meant he had "missed" the founder of the April Fool's team. He could have had the chance to discuss Muggle-related matters with him.

But Lumian was also relieved because he wasn't prepared. If he had discovered Loki and was forced to act prematurely, there was a high chance he would have met a tragic end. After all, according to Franca's description, a Sequence 7 Magician possessed many bizarre abilities. As a Marionettist, they could silently eliminate others.

If Loki had launched a surprise attack, Lumian wasn't sure if he would have had the opportunity to use Mr. K's finger. He also wasn't sure if he could have located the real Loki in time and escaped with the Spell of Harrumph.

However, at this moment, regret outweighed relief in his heart.

Lumian's pace toward Salle de Bal Brise involuntarily slowed. He recalled his experience at the Alone Bar at noon.

The bar was dimly lit, and it was well past lunchtime. Besides a couple of inebriated patrons chatting by the window, Leah, disguised as a bartender, appeared to be the only one on the first floor.

From the cellar, which doubled as a marionette theater, he could occasionally hear conversations from different people.

In the room with the mechanical typewriter, a man was reading a newspaper. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the newspaper. Even when collecting the typing fee, he merely nodded…

Which one of them was Loki? Lumian stopped diagonally across from Salle de Bal Brise, his gaze unfocused.

Clearly, Leah couldn't be Loki. It wasn't due to gender differences but rather her lack of Sequence. According to Franca, Loki had a habit of revealing his appearance as of last year or even earlier. It was suspected that he had advanced to Faceless, and Leah was only a Sequence 7 Magician a few months ago.

In the lifelike dream, she likely couldn't conceal her specific Sequence.

Lumian's suspicion gradually settled on the man who was engrossed in reading the newspaper and watching the typewriter.

He has the ability to use the mechanical typewriter to duplicate information at will. It would be easy for him to notice if any strangers borrowed the typewriter…

Lumian carefully recalled the man's appearance and realized he was entirely unremarkable. He was in his thirties, with black hair, blue eyes, and an average appearance, dressed in a plain black suit like any common clerk.

Moreover, a Marionettist can create marionettes. The man might just be one of those marionettes, not Loki, which is why he remained silent and pretended to read the newspaper…

But if a Marionettist can control people, can they also turn rats, cockroaches, bedbugs, and other creatures into marionettes?

In that case, the possibilities are endless. Every living thing in the Alone Bar could potentially be Loki…

How could I ever hope to find him? What a vexing individual. Though his manifestations differed from those of the Amons, they are equally vexing!

It's only thanks to the angel trapped within me, Mr. Fool's seal, and the Blood Emperor's aura that I could evade a Marionettist—a Seer Beyonder—so far. Relying solely on anti-tracking and Lie likely wouldn't be enough to escape Loki's grasp…

How frustrating. The Alone Bar is Bureau 8's stronghold. I can't simply flush the real Loki out with a broad sweep… The more Lumian contemplated it, the more exasperated he became.

Having successfully eluded pursuit, it seemed nearly impossible to bait Loki with a similar ploy. Anyone with a modicum of intelligence would smell a trap in this recurring situation.

What's worse, frequent visits to the Alone Bar would undoubtedly attract Bureau 8's attention, further complicating matters.

Lumian took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, forcing himself to regain his composure.

He concentrated on his analysis of Loki.

According to Anthony's theory, Loki and most members of the April Fool's team have high opinions of themselves. Otherwise, after experiencing despair for the future, they wouldn't seek solace in pranks. They would indulge in their desires and the pleasures of life…

Is it possible to lure such a person into a trap they believe they had outsmarted?

Lumian dismantled and reassembled various pieces of information in his mind, searching for a viable solution.

His frustration grew, and he longed to storm into the Alone Bar and eliminate everyone except Leah.

Then, an idea struck Lumian.

While it might not form a direct plan against Loki, it could serve as a means to probe the situation at the Alone Bar, uncover exploitable details, and gather information. Additionally, it would provide an outlet for his emotions and anger, and perhaps even earn him some money.

After careful consideration, Lumian turned around and made his way towards Rue Anarchie.

…

Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 401.

Lumian pushed open the unlatched door, where he found the bankrupt merchant, Fitz, sitting at a wooden table, dipping a long, stick-like rye bread into a thick, sticky soup.

Fitz glanced back, placing the food aside, and stood up, clearly confused and somewhat panicked.

"Monsieur Ciel, what's the matter?"

The bankrupt merchant's brown hair appeared greasy, yet he stubbornly maintained a semblance of tidiness. His dark-brown eyes and smile lines gave him a naturally ingratiating appearance.

In contrast to their previous encounter, Fitz's clothes now bore a bit of dirt, as if he hadn't had the time to clean them.

Lumian cut to the chase, his tone blunt.

"Can you provide evidence that Timmons owes you 100,000 verl d'or? The owner of Salle de Bal Unique."

Fitz's eyes lit up.

"Yes! I have a contract for our joint venture. It clearly states that he agreed to repurchase his shares within a specified time frame, along with paying me 100,000 verl d'or and the corresponding profits.

"Monsieur Ciel, you don't need to use Salle de Bal Unique to jog my memory about Timmons. I curse that scoundrel a hundred times a day!

"Monsieur Ciel, do you believe there's a chance of recovering my money?"

Lumian's lips curled up.

"This could be your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you miss it, you may never see that money again."

Salle de Bal Unique was at its most vulnerable!

Without the Amons, it was now inhabited solely by humans with varying degrees of mutation!

Fitz was a mix of excitement and apprehension upon hearing this. He hastily retrieved the valuable contract and handed it over to Lumian.

While he didn't entirely trust the mob leader, he had no choice but to place his hopes in him, praying that Lumian would return with good news.

…

Quartier de l'Observatoire, Rue Ancienne.

Lumian changed his appearance and clothes. He walked towards Salle de Bal Unique in a shirt, vest, top hat, and thin formal suit.

He encountered a guard sporting a monocle on his right eye and dressed in a short black suit, who obstructed his path.

"Monsieur, you must wear a monocle to enter our dance hall."

Lumian responded with a smile.

"Monette introduced me here. He mentioned that I don't need to wear a monocle on my right eye, like you gentlemen."

The two guards exchanged meaningful glances and exchanged knowing smiles.

"Then it's not an issue."

From their appearances, it seems they are well aware of the consequences of being invited by Monette. They might even have been influenced by Monette's devious personality and secretly are faithful to Amon. Unfortunately, they remain oblivious to the fact that Salle de Bal Unique is no longer the same as they remembered. Lumian sneered inwardly and decided to seek out someone most resembling Amon later, intent on shattering their monocle with a punch.

This act was both a release of his pent-up anger and fear from being manipulated and intimidated by Amon, and a means to catch the attention of the Alone Bar. After all, how would they know that someone could reclaim the money from Timmons?

It was already evening, and gas wall lamps and stained-glass chandeliers illuminated Salle de Bal Unique's dance hall.

Dancers in monocles and short suits swayed on the dance floor while others leaned against the railings with glasses of wine, wearing smiles as they observed others dancing. Musicians played violins and the clarinet in one corner, contributing to the lively atmosphere.

It appeared as though nothing unusual had occurred here.

After observing for a while, Lumian made his way to the stairs leading to the second floor.

The guard with a monocle, stationed at the top of the stairs, extended his right hand to block Lumian's path.

He asked with an inscrutable smile, "Who are you here to see?"

Lumian maintained a relaxed demeanor as he replied, "I'm here to collect some debts from Timmons."

"Then you can't proceed upstairs," the monocled guard retorted, his tone almost amused, as if he were witnessing a comedy.

Lumian's lips curled into a radiant smile.

Bang!

His left fist connected with the guard's face, sending the monocle flying. It crashed to the ground with a resounding crack.

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