Lamenti, Moonlight Watchers Faculty.
It was deep in the afternoon. The crimson sun shone brightly, casting long shadows across the roofs of the nearby houses.
Lumian, no longer wearing his usual coat, sat in one of the chairs with a newspaper in hand. Today, he wore a slightly unbuttoned black shirt, his hair falling loosely over his face.
After reading for some time, he lowered the newspaper and leaned back into a more relaxed posture.
With the way things were, people rarely came to the Moonlight Watchers Faculty for exorcisms. Most days, the building was almost completely empty.
Why don't we just call this a police station instead of an exorcism faculty?
Lumian chuckled inwardly.
Heh… but I'm still getting paid. Although, to be honest, the faculty itself doesn't seem to be earning very much.
He took out his phone and checked his balance.
8,000 euros.
That was equivalent to roughly 1,000 pounds.
After glancing at the number, he switched off the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
At that moment, the black-haired and violet eyed Rosanne stepped through the partition.
"Good morning, Lumian," she greeted.
"Hello, Rosanne," Lumian replied with his new usual charisma.
"Seems like you're in a good mood today," she teased.
Then, turning around slightly, she spread her arms and asked,
"How does this dress look on me?"
She was wearing a black shirt and blouse, the kind of formal outfit usually worn by important figures.
At that moment, Lumian's mind became a mess.
In truth, he didn't think the clothes suited her at all. His first instinct was to tell a harmless lie and say that she looked great.
But then he remembered one unfortunate fact.
He could no longer lie.
After a brief internal struggle, he chose what he believed to be the safest possible answer.
"It's okay."
Hearing that, Rosanne paused and froze, looking at Lumian with the kind of expression that clearly said, Are you serious?
At that perfect moment, Captain Hargreaves came down the stairs.
Seeing the opportunity, Lumian immediately stood up and shifted his attention to Hargreaves. "Good morning, Captain. What's on the schedule today?"
Before speaking, Hargreaves glanced at the newspaper and asked, "Good morning, Lumian. Were you reading the news?"
"Yes, Captain," Lumian replied cautiously. "But that's yesterday morning's paper."
Hargreaves nodded and spoke in his usual deep and crisp voice. "That should be the issue, because something very serious happened yesterday night."
"What is it, Captain?" Lumian asked.
"It's the Yellow Hotel. It turned out that nearly everyone inside died, all from the same cause. The police have no clue and no one to question, since even the security guards died as well." He looked at Lumian and continued. "So they 'invited' us, since we are sorcerers."
"Captain, but how are we going to do this? I'm no longer a Diviner, so I can't use my divination abilities like before," Lumian asked wisely.
Hargreaves rubbed his chin and thought for a moment before replying. "Yes, I'm aware of that. When you advance to another phase, you leave behind most of the abilities from your previous Order, except for a few things."
He nodded slightly and continued. "But since that's the case, I'll send Derrick to accompany you."
Derrick… Lumian gasped inwardly. A vivid scene immediately formed in his mind.
He saw himself doing all the investigative work while Derrick sat comfortably on a couch, scrolling through his phone.
The imaginary scene shattered, and the corners of Lumian's lips twitched slightly. "Captain, what about Vincent… or Berlie?" Then, glancing toward Rosanne, he added, "Or even Rosanne here would be nice."
Hargreaves nodded and smiled. "Vincent is busy. Berlie is monitoring the Olympic Coast, and Rosanne…"
At that moment, Rosanne shot Lumian an angry glare.
Then she let out an indignant humph and, as if using the very same misdirection ability Lumian possessed, quickly disappeared up the partition.
Lumian, on the other hand, watched Rosanne retreating figure and accepted his reality.
But before leaving, he asked, "What about you, Captain?"
Hargreaves suddenly chuckled. "I'm heading to the station to assist with the investigation. When you arrive, report back to me first and examine the surroundings before we begin looking into the bodies."
"Wait… an autopsy?" Lumian repeated, his tone filled with excitement.
To be honest, Lumian had never participated in an autopsy before, though he had seen plenty of them in films.
At that moment, he almost felt as though he had become part of a medical drama.
Not wanting to waste any time, Lumian smiled at his captain once more.
"Alright, Captain. I'll be right out."
Hargreaves nodded and began walking away.
Lumian also wasted no time and quickly headed upstairs, entering his office.
Once inside, he noticed another trait of becoming a Magician.
His expressions could naturally adjust to the situation around him.
For example, if a scene required sadness, he would involuntarily appear sad as well.
He opened his drawer and took out the deck of playing cards he had purchased the previous day before heading home.
After briefly examining their surfaces, he spread them across the desk.
He was initially trying to determine whether he could still perform divination.
However, he soon realized that instead of traditional divination, the cards allowed him to glimpse approximately three seconds into the future while holding them.
A smile appeared on his face.
Using his sleight of hand, he made the cards disappear.
He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair slightly before heading back downstairs.
There, he saw Derrick sitting on the couch.
His neatly combed brown hair was as orderly as ever.
And, unmistakably, he wore his usual frown.
"Good afternoon, Derrick," Lumian greeted with a wide smile. "We are surely going to work today. Yes, the work we will do will definitely be stressful."
Derrick looked at him and stood up. "Yes, it would be stressful. I still wonder why the Captain keeps calling me for missions. I'll say it again, I would rather stay in the alchemy room."
Lumian chuckled at that reply. Normally, he wouldn't know how to respond to something like that, but as a Magician, he smoothly answered. "Yes, me too. I really enjoy sleeping and appreciating the scenery of potions."
Hearing that, Derrick's lips twitched slightly.
"Very… very funny."
Lumian smiled and bowed like a gentleman. "May we go and perform the investigation?"
Derrick didn't reply. He simply turned and walked out the door.
Lumian straightened up and let out a soft chuckle inwardly.
This Magician potion can even make the usual nonchalant Derrick crack a little.
With that thought, he followed behind and closed the door.
...
They walked along their route toward Mitchell Street, with Lumian occasionally making light jokes about the situation. Derrick, however, responded less than usual, remaining as nonchalant as ever.
Soon, they arrived at the tall Yellow Hotel.
The building stood out with its golden exterior, marble steps, and a large surrounding courtyard. A fountain sat quietly at the center, but the entire place felt unnaturally still.
Yellow caution tape surrounded the entrance, and only a few cleaners were present, chatting in low voices.
Lumian and Derrick approached them.
One of the maids, there were three in total—stood up from the pavement.
The moment she saw the young man in front of her, she immediately smiled. Her expression carried a mix of playfulness and curiosity.
She appeared to be in her prime, with brown hair falling naturally over her shoulders. She wasn't wearing a maid uniform, but rather a casual blouse and blue jeans.
"Good afternoon, sir. Are you the group the police called for this mission?" she asked without hesitation, as she stood up.
Lumian smiled and replied, "Yes, we are from the Moonlight Watchers Faculty. You work here, right?"
The girl nodded. "Yes, I do. However, I wasn't on shift at the time, so I don't know exactly what happened. But when the police arrived, they called it suicide."
"Suicide?" Derrick, who stood beside Lumian, repeated while rubbing his chin.
Lumian, using his Magician-like charisma, lightly said, "This place must be blessed to keep someone like you from witnessing such tragedy."
The girl chuckled, while her friends still sitting on the pavement whispered among themselves.
"My name is Georgia," she said, extending her hand.
Lumian shook it. "Lumian Ward."
He was just about to ask for her number when, Derrick suddenly grabbed him and pulled him inside the building, tearing through the yellow tape with an unchanged expression.
There goes my chance of having a girlfriend… Lumian thought inwardly, sulking.
...
As they entered, Lumian immediately stopped sulking and surveyed the surroundings.
The interior was covered in police tape. Yellow wallpaper lined the walls, now stained with blood, while the light bulbs above flickered intermittently. "Hmmm… what exactly happened here?" Derrick muttered.
He took a slow breath and activated his Order abilities.
In the next instant, his eyes became perfectly circular as he carefully examined every item in the room.
After a few moments, he deactivated the ability and let out a solemn sigh. "The staff here also died by suicide," he said. "But judging from the patterns, there appears to be an external influence."
He glanced around the room once more. "The killings do not resemble the result of a direct attack. Based on what I can see, I suspect a very, very vengeful entity."
Then, unexpectedly, Derrick offered a small smile. "Let's go upstairs."
With that, he began ascending the staircase.
Lumian followed behind, thinking inwardly. Back when Whitely investigated mysteries, he could only rely on connecting lines and clues. But at Phase 8, Derrick can simply observe the patterns directly.
I guess the Mystery Pryer Order isn't so bad after all.
They made their way upstairs until they reached a long hallway lined with doors.
They entered the room to their right, but Derrick, not wanting to complicate matters for the police, used one of his abilities to open the door without touching it.
The moment the door swung open, they were struck by the overwhelming stench of blood.
Covering his nose with one hand, Derrick commented, "It seems the person in here rarely went outside and ended up killing himself without even opening the windows."
With that, he walked to the window and pushed it open.
Fresh air rushed in, and the once dim room was immediately illuminated by the bright crimson sunlight.
Lumian coughed a few times before forcing a smile and turning toward Derrick, who was already examining every corner of the room.
At this moment, Lumian felt like a complete clown.
He had clearly underestimated Derrick earlier.
Not wanting to become exactly what he had imagined—a useless partner sitting around while someone else did all the work—Lumian began searching the room for clues as well.
Suddenly, Derrick stopped what he was doing.
He slowly looked around the environment once more before activating his Order abilities again.
Using the patterns of everything he had recently come into contact with, a scene suddenly formed in Derrick's mind.
Within that vision, a young girl appeared to be affected by a strange, faint blue spiritual aura.
She writhed on her bed in agony before abruptly standing up.
At the same time, the translucent aura gradually spread across her face, filling every inch of it.
Then she picked up her gun, the very weapon she normally carried for protection against criminals, and turned it upon herself.
Bang!
With the deafening gunshot, Derrick's circular eyes immediately reverted to normal.
...
The usual frown returned to Derrick's face as he said solemnly, "Strange… that spiritual aura seems to be angry at someone familiar to me."
Hearing that, Lumian's thoughts immediately began racing.
Someone familiar to Derrick… Could this be Ghost Quin? No… I'm not certain Quin would be capable of something like this.
But wait… Mr. Zayn once said that semi-cursed beings can return if they are not properly destroyed, spreading corruption as they recover.
And now that I think about it, their house isn't even far from here.
The proximity…
The spreading corruption…
The sequence of deaths…
Everything seemed to fit together. Lumian's eyes widened as realization struck him like lightning.
It's that scumbag James!