Lury was slightly taken aback, but quickly composed herself and smiled politely. "Good morning, ma'am. Please, what's your request?"
The woman stepped closer and lowered her voice. "It's my husband… he's been missing for two weeks now."
Hearing that, Lumian paused. He wanted to feel concerned—but instead, the situation struck him as oddly misplaced.
Ma'am… does this look like a police station? he thought inwardly. We deal with supernatural matters, and you want us to find your husband…
The corner of his lips twitched faintly.
At this rate… she might as well ask us to find a lost dog next.
...
Ma'am—" Lumian coughed lightly and was about to speak—
—but Lury immediately punched his shoulder.
"Lumian, I know what you're about to say," she whispered. "Try to be a little considerate sometimes."
She let out a small chuckle before turning back to the woman with a polite smile. "Yes, our faculty can help with that. Even this young man here."
The woman looked at Lumian, a bit unsure.
"He can?"
"Whoever referred you here must've mentioned that we deal with more than ordinary matters." Lury said politely.
She gestured lightly toward Lumian. "He's a diviner. He can trace your husband through his spirituality."
"I see…" the woman said, her tone thoughtful.
Lury nudged Lumian again.
"Lumian, right?"
Lumian smiled, rubbing his shoulder.
"Right."
"I'll need something your husband used frequently," he added. "Something with a strong connection to him. That will help me trace his spirituality."
The woman thought for a moment, then nodded. "I believe I have something like that. Will you still be here?"
Lumian glanced at Lury, who was staring at him with a slightly challenging smile.
He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… I'll be here."
Relief flickered across the woman's face. "Thank you," she said softly, before turning and leaving the faculty.
...
As the door clicked shut, Lumian let out a quiet sigh of relief and slowly turned to Lury, who was already staring at him.
"I know what you wanted to say," she said. "Why would you even think that?"
Lumian gave an awkward chuckle. "I mean… are we a police station? Why would we take a case about a missing husband?"
Lury pouted, folding her arms. "That's funny… because I heard you're already looking for someone else's husband."
Lumian scratched his cheek lightly. "That's different. He's connected to the St. Mary text."
Lury nodded but didn't respond immediately. After a brief silence, her expression softened, and she slowly unfolded her arms.
"You know, Lumian… you should try to be more considerate."
He blinked slightly, surprised by her tone.
"I grew up without a dad," she continued. "Not until I was ten, when my mum remarried. Back then… Lady Patricia was the one who helped us through everything. She even helped us build our house—for almost nothing."
She tapped his shoulder lightly. "You won't understand the pain of losing someone… until you actually do."
Hearing that, Lumian face became slightly gloomy, as he exhaled softly, her words settling in.
He wouldn't wish that kind of loss on Kelvin or Laura.
"…I understand," he said quietly. "And… I'm sorry if I brought up anything painful."
Lury looked at him for a second—then suddenly smiled, sticking her tongue out playfully.
"Don't worry about it."
...
After their brief conversation, Lury shared some of her bread with Lumian before being called away by a few unofficial members.
Left alone, Lumian smiled faintly and walked over to the couch. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through TikTok for a while before checking his WhatsApp. Eventually, he switched to the news.
"The party most likely to win the election is the Arshal Party, headed by Louis Harvile…"
"Due to recent developments, the channel leading to the Lad River has been closed, making sailing in the Riverrile Ocean leading to Montmartre Heights, temporarily impossible…"
"The Linkton family continues to expand, with increasing migration from Betyl to neighboring lands occupied by the family."
Lumian kept scrolling absentmindedly—until one headline made him pause.
"The patriarch of the Linkton family has been assassinated… May the Lord bless his soul.
Lumian stared at the headline for a long time, before reading it again, and again.
The patriarch was assassinated? Or could it be suicide?
It hadn't been long since Patricia's death. If the man had learned about both Lacey and Patricia…
Lumian exhaled softly.
Maybe he couldn't take it… and that just shows he still cared for them.
After a moment, he locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
Just then, the door opened.
...
The door opened, revealing the woman from earlier. This time, she carried a yellow bag in her hand.
She stepped inside, glancing around before asking, "May I sit on the couch? I had to walk all the way from Gordy."
"Gordy?" Lumian repeated, slightly surprised. "That's pretty far. Why didn't you take a taxi?"
The woman gave a faint, self-deprecating smile. "With how things are these days… I'd rather not get into cars."
Lumian raised a brow. "Why's that?"
Her lips twitched slightly. "I think that already explains it," she said quietly, before pausing.
Then, more softly—
"I'm scared."
At that moment, Lury stepped out from behind the partition. She and Lumian exchanged a self deprecating look, as she had also heard it.
Lumian licked his lips, forcing back a laugh as he stood up.
"So… this is the item?" he asked, gesturing toward the bag.
I just hope it has some trace of spirituality, he added inwardly.
...
"Yes," she replied, handing the bag over.
Lumian opened it and glanced inside. A black shirt and a dark hoodie.
As he took them out, he asked casually, "So… why are you scared of taxis?"
The woman let out a small chuckle. "I don't really know. With how strange things have been lately… people with powers can do terrible things. Who knows who's who, right?"
Perhaps she was certain her husband would be found, that's why she's cheerful.
Adjusting her hair, she suddenly asked, "By the way… why is it called the Moonlight Watchers Faculty? Do you worship the Pale Moon Goddess?"
Lumian's mouth twitched slightly, forming a crooked smile. "No—definitely not," he said quickly. "We follow the Skywalker. He rules the sky and everything beyond… so technically, he has authority over the Pale Moon Goddess. The name comes from what he has authority over."
She chuckled. "Then why isn't there something like a Sunlight Watchers Faculty?"
Lumian paused.
"…Good question," he admitted with a small laugh.
He set the clothes down and took out his amethyst pendant. "So… these are the items he was most attached to?"
"Yes," she replied. "Anytime I even tried to touch them, he'd scold me. He couldn't do without them. He always said they were from his mother." She gave a soft chuckle.
Lumian smiled faintly. "I see…"
She nodded, her dark eyes reflecting the image of the man in the black coat as he raised the pendant.
...
Lumian raised the pendant above the clothes and slipped into a state of Invigoration. His focus narrowed as he tried to sense any trace of spirituality lingering on them.
The moment he caught it, he closed his eyes and activated his Mystic Eyes.
Just as quickly, the air seemed to grow colder, as white silhouettes drifted around him.
Faint blue particles drifted from his body, weaving into thin lines that stretched outward into the distance.
After a few seconds, he exhaled and let the energy fade, lowering the pendant, as he brought the pressure down, deactivating his Mystic Eyes.
"Ma'am," he said, turning to her, "your husband isn't lost. He's on Hatcliff Street."
"Hatcliff Street?" she repeated, confused. "What would he be doing there?"
Lumian gave an awkward chuckle. "Are you asking me?"
He hesitated, then added, "You could try checking the area."
The woman thought for a moment before nodding. "Of course. I've been searching for him everywhere." She paused. "But I don't know that place well… would you mind escorting me there?"
Hearing that, Lumian froze for a second. The technique only traced spirituality—it didn't give exact locations. The reason he'd found the man connected to the Duke was because there had only been one house in that area. As for the St. Mary text… that had been different. Hargreaves had marked it with a spell at that time.
He rubbed his temple. "Uh… it was on Hatcliff Street," he said slowly. "A bungalow. Brown roof."
The woman nodded, though uncertainty lingered on her face. "I'm not sure I'll recognize it… could you come with me? Just to make sure we find it?"
Lumian opened his mouth to respond—
—but before he could, the door opened once more.
It was the green-eyed, black hair Vincent. Dressed in a black shirt and jacket, slightly untucked over his trousers, he scanned the room before his gaze landed on Lumian.
A grin formed on his face.
"Lumian," he said casually, "who's this? Your girlfriend?"
...
Lumian let out an awkward chuckle. "Not exactly. She came to make a request… to find her husband."
"Husband?" Vincent repeated, slightly caught off guard.
The situation felt oddly out of place for an exorcism faculty.
He exchanged a look with Lumian, who returned it with a wry smile.
Vincent didn't press further. Instead, he turned back to the woman. "Lumian here is a diviner. Has he found the man?"
"Not exactly," she replied. "But he confirmed the street he's on."
Vincent nodded, then extended his hand with a charming smile. "I'm also a member of this faculty. And how should I address such a beautiful lady?"
From the side, Lury sighed quietly before turning away and heading upstairs toward the partition.
The woman shook his hand politely. "Thank you for the compliment. My name is Jenna Fort. And yours?"
"Vincent Brent," he replied, withdrawing his hand.
He glanced around the room. "Where did Lury go?"
Almost immediately, her voice echoed from upstairs—
"Don't worry, I understand. I've already written your names on the list."
Lumian's mouth twitched. She really sees us as knights saving a damsel in distress… he thought.
The "list" was something the captain had instructed Lury to maintain in his absence—to keep track of who entered and left the faculty.
Vincent grinned and turned back to Lumian.
"Bro, what are you waiting for?" he said with a light laugh. "Let's get going."
...
We…? Lumian repeated inwardly.
Is it you that got the mission? Well… I don't care. If she's paying, I'm taking it—even if you're not.
Without wasting time, he and Vincent stepped outside. Since the woman refused to take a taxi, the three of them made their way to Hatcliff Street on foot.
...
Hatcliff street — along the road.
Under the crimson sun and a gentle morning breeze, they finally arrived. The walk had been a bit tiring, but they still managed to keep their composure.
Vincent glanced around, scanning the area. "So… where's this house you saw?"
Lumian shook his head, looking from one building to another. "Like I said, I'm not sure. But it had a brown roof… and it was a bungalow."
"Hm…" Vincent hummed thoughtfully. "Well, the street isn't that big. Let's just look around."
They began moving from place to place, checking each house carefully.
After a few minutes, they finally spotted it. A bungalow with a brown roof.
...
Vincent stepped forward and knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
After a few seconds, a voice came from inside.
"Who's there?"
Vincent smiled politely. "Moonlight Watchers. We're here with—" he paused, turning to her.
"James," she said quickly.
"—Mr. James' wife," Vincent continued smoothly. "We'd like to speak with him."
There was a brief pause. Then the voice replied, confused, "James? That's my brother. Didn't he just leave… with his wife?"
Lumian and Vincent exchanged a glance that screamed, 'should we tell her?'
A moment later, the person peeked through the door hole. The instant she saw the yellow-haired woman, the door opened.
A young woman stood there, dressed in a white blouse and skirt, her long brown hair falling neatly over her shoulders.
"Jenna?" she said, surprised. "I thought my brother said he divorced you."
Jenna froze. "Divorce?" she repeated. "We never divorced."
Connecting the Dots, she said Inwardly. That scumbag must be cheating on me. He must have lied to his parents so he could be with someone else.
Vincent stepped in smoothly, keeping things calm. "Would you mind letting us in? It's a bit hot out here."
The woman hesitated, then turned her head slightly and called out,
"Mom! Dad! We have guests!"
A deep voice responded from inside, "What do they want?"
"They're here for James."
There was a short silence.
Then—
"Alright. Let them in."
...
She stepped aside, allowing Vincent and the others to enter.
Inside, the house was dimly lit. A few bulbs flickered faintly while the crimson glow from outside filtered through the windows. The seating room was fairly spacious, with a television at the front and a couple of desks and couches arranged neatly.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs.
A man descended slowly. He wore a white singlet, his round belly slightly visible. His hairline had receded so far it nearly reached the middle of his head.
He looked at the group cautiously.
"James isn't here," he said. "He left with his wife."
He hesitated, then added nervously, "Just… give him some time. I promise, once I get some money, I'll help him settle the loan."
Vincent blinked, confused. "No, sir, that's not why we're here. He doesn't owe us anything. We're here because his wife is looking for him."
The man visibly relaxed, letting out a breath.
James had always been troublesome—borrowing money, swindling people—so new visitors usually meant trouble.
His eyes shifted to Jenna.
"Jenna? Why are you here?" he asked. "I thought you and James were divorced."
"No—no," she said quickly. "We were never divorced."
Hearing that, the man face slowly took on a angry look. "That good-for-nothing son…"
Vincent stepped in, trying to keep things calm once more. "Do you know where he went?"
The man thought for a moment before answering.
"He came earlier… with his wife—no, his lover," he corrected himself. "They said they had some issues. We talked it through, helped settle things, and then they left for their place."
As Vincent continued speaking with the man, Lumian quietly observed the room.
His gaze drifted across the walls, landing on several framed photographs—moments of birthdays, gatherings, ordinary memories frozen in time.
Continuing, he suddenly froze as one potrait stood out.
The man in the picture had a balding head and a full white beard. It looked recent… no more than a few weeks old
Huh? Hold up, wait a minute. That's Mrs. Theresa's husband!