Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

Chapter 127 Café

Lumian couldn’t help but smile when he saw the “slogan” on the wall.

It reminded him of something Aurore had once said: “In Trier, the café holds a unique status. It’s the birthplace of riots, the sanctuary of conspiracies, and the wellspring of scandals.” Throughout Intisian history, innumerable riots had been sparked in cafés, and countless literary works and political struggles had brewed within them.

Unlike the neighboring Loen Kingdom, Intis had its own private clubs, but they were fairly exclusive or high-end, with limited access. Be they former nobles, current members of parliament, high-ranking government officials, financiers, bankers, industrialists, renowned authors, newspaper editors, military generals, or university professors, everyone enjoyed frequenting different cafés to engage in spirited conversations, presenting a more approachable side to the public. After all, the Republic’s political slogan and image were built upon “freedom, equality, and fraternity.”

Naturally, the cafés frequented by various social strata were vastly different, often distinguished by location, price, and style. So, when Lumian heard from Charlie that Laurent had used his mother, Mrs. Lakazan, to seek opportunities in upscale cafés, he wasn’t surprised or puzzled. Many people did this, often becoming archetypes for novelists, but only a few succeeded.

At the same time, banquets and salons were all the rage in Trier. If any high society member didn’t host a salon once a month, others would assume something had befallen their family or that a financial crisis had jeopardized their political future.

Aurore, who clearly adored this metropolis, stayed away partly because artists like authors, poets, painters, and sculptors seemed like tamed butterflies, fluttering about the salons of various politicians, financiers, and officials. It appeared that only by gaining their approval could the value of their work be realized.

The amalgamation of salons and cafés supplanted most club functions.

In this system, taverns, beer houses, dance halls, and cafés shared similarities, but the latter held far greater significance, leaning more towards the upper classes.

Upon seeing a customer enter, a female attendant in a grayish-white dress greeted him with a smile.

“Do you have a favorite seat, or are you meeting a friend?”

Lumian nodded.

“Cabin D.”

The female attendant led him to a secluded corner.

Beside a window, he could see a lush, tree-filled botanical garden.

“What can I get you to drink?” The female attendant presented a brown-covered wine list.

Lumian opened it, momentarily taken aback by the dazzling array of choices.

Fermo Coffee, Highlander Coffee, Reem Espresso…

Sibe Black Tea, Marquis Black Tea, West Balam Black Tea…

Fruit Slushy, Frangipani Cocktail, Ambergris Lemonade, Venus Sacred Oil…

Summer Wine, Kirsch, Rose Dew, Walnut Spirit, Orange & Lemon Wine, Cherry Spirit…

Absinthe, Fennel Absinthe, Gin, Bitter Cura?ao, Apple Brandy, Grape Dregs Brandy…

Sweetwine: Perfect Love, Barbarian Cream, Little Rose, West Pyro…

Considering he had a psychologist’s appointment later, neither alcohol nor coffee seemed fitting. Lumian thought for a moment and said, “Ambergris lemonade.”

“Four licks,” the female attendant inquired.

“Do you need cake, bread, or other food?”

“Not for now. I’ll decide when my friend arrives.” Lumian surveyed the surroundings of Mason’s Café and noted the absence of customers at this time.

The lunch crowd had cleared out by 2:30 p.m., leaving more than an hour before teatime.

Soon, the female attendant returned with a tray, placing a glass filled with a colorless liquid and a few lemons on the table. Lumian eyed the empty seat across from him, picked up his cup, and took a sip.

A sweet, elegant fragrance filled his nostrils, and the refreshing sour taste invigorated him.

As the minutes passed, Lumian noticed the wall clock nearing 3:30 p.m. He couldn’t help but glance at the café entrance.

Green plants adorned the area, but no customers entered.

Just as Lumian looked away in disappointment, a soft female voice sounded from the booth behind him.

“I’m already here. Good afternoon, Mr. Lumian Lee.”

Lumian assumed the woman didn’t want a face-to-face conversation, so he didn’t turn around. He lowered his voice and asked politely, “Good afternoon. How should I address you? Can you hear my soft voice?”

“No problem,” the gentle female voice replied. “You can call me Susie.”

“Hello, Madame Susie.” For some reason, Lumian felt relatively calm facing this psychologist. His usual habit of inward commentary dissipated.

A familiar uneasiness washed over him a second later.

“What’s wrong?” Susie, seated behind him, inquired gently.

Lumian pondered for two seconds and didn’t conceal his feelings.

“I’m a little uneasy. It’s an odd yet familiar sensation.

“Yes, I must have experienced something similar when I met an information broker yesterday.”

Susie spoke rapidly, apologetically, “Sorry, I’m used to reading your thoughts. That might be causing your discomfort.

“Your body is infused with intense corruption and is in a delicate balance. The slightest disturbance triggers a reaction. In other words, you’re highly sensitive to hidden and invisible influences, surpassing Beyonders of the same Sequence or higher.”

“Is that so…” Lumian wasn’t angry. In his view, a psychologist needed to read thoughts for effective treatment. Rely on words alone?

He then furrowed his brow. “Was Anthony Reid also reading my thoughts back then? I’m referring to the information broker.”

“I know.” Susie understood. “Where did Anthony Reid come from? What did he do before becoming an information broker?”

“He had a West Midseashire Coast accent, a retired soldier,” Lumian recounted. After a brief silence, Susie said, “If he’s truly from West Midseashire Coast, it’s indeed possible he’s a Beyonder of the Spectator pathway.”

The Spectator pathway… Lumian had read about it in Aurore’s Warlock notebook, but she only knew that its corresponding Sequence 9 was called the Spectator. They possessed remarkable observational abilities, deciphering true thoughts from subtle expressions and body language.

So a Sequence above the Spectator pathway is a Psychologist… As this thought crossed Lumian’s mind, he heard Susie correct him.

“It’s Psychiatrist.”

“That sounds more reassuring.” Lumian smiled. “What Sequence is Anthony Reid?” After learning the other’s pathway, he felt Anthony Reid should have recognized him and sensed his anxiety, concern, and attempts at intimidation.

“According to your description, he’s at least a Sequence 8,” Susie concluded.

Lumian smirked. “If he’s really a Psychiatrist, that’s interesting. He didn’t even treat the aftereffects of his battlefield trauma.”

“It’s not unusual. When a Psychiatrist suffers severe psychological trauma, it’s incredibly difficult for them to recover alone. They often need the help of another Psychiatrist, and treating a Psychiatrist is far riskier than usual.

...

One misstep can result in the infection of the patient’s mental illness,” Susie explained succinctly.

As the conversation shifted and the atmosphere lightened, Lumian gradually relaxed, no longer feeling uneasy or anxious.

He took the initiative to say, “Shall we begin the treatment?”

“Talking is part of the treatment.” Susie’s gentle voice hinted at a smile.

Realizing that the first stage of the treatment was simply conversation, Lumian eased further. He leaned back against the booth partition and asked, puzzled, “I know it was a dream, but there are many details I can’t comprehend.

“Since it’s my dream, how can I know the various abilities of the three official investigators? Why am I so familiar with the unique abilities of the padre, the shepherd, and company?”

Susie’s tone was warm as she replied, “The three official investigators were forcibly drawn into your dream. It’s as if their subconscious came close to yours, in a semi-open state.

“They would actively participate in the dream, revealing all sorts of information they know. Even if they only think about it, your subconscious can sense it.” In other words, with Ryan, Leah, and Valentine’s involvement, certain parts of the dream are created through “interaction?” Their responses are a collective creation of my subconscious and theirs, adhering to unspoken rules? Lumian considered this as he pondered previously unresolved questions.

Susie’s voice remained steady as she continued, “You must have some suspicions about why you know the abilities of the evil god’s followers, right? But you’re just unwilling to confront them?”

At this, Lumian’s eyelids twitched involuntarily.

“Based on the information Madam Magician provided, most of Guillaume Bénet and Pierre Berry’s abilities stem from the evil god’s Sequence, Contractee. So, it’s impossible to predict their abilities beforehand. It depends on which creature they’ve signed a contract with,”

...

Susie gently analyzed. “In other words, we can rule out the possibility that your subconscious obtained corresponding knowledge from the seal’s corruption. Without a knowledge base, you couldn’t imagine those abilities nothing. They’re not imaginary.” The woman’s tone suddenly turned grave.

from “Clearly, at some point before Cordu was destroyed, you saw Guillaume Bénet, Pierre the others use their abilities. Moreover, you were neither harmed nor Berry, and traumatized. Otherwise, it would have manifested in the dream.

“From the dream’s analysis, what truly left a scar on you was Pualis and company’s actions. “How do you think you witnessed those evil god followers using their powers?” Susie’s words were like sharp arrows piercing Lumian’s memories, making the sturdy barrier waver.

Lumian’s face twisted slightly. Amidst excruciating pain, he saw images surface from the depths of his memories.

It was the third floor of the administrator’s castle.

The walls were adorned with pale, translucent faces, but the fighters were no longer Ryan, Leah, and Valentine. Instead, it was Guillaume Bénet, Pierre Berry, and Sybil Berry!

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