Chapter 199 - 199 "Unruly"

199 “Unruly”

Travis Everett concealed his emotions behind the black-framed glasses, rendering them inscrutable.

Nevertheless, he made no attempt to halt Lumian’s actions. It was as though he had transformed into a mere observer.

Baron Brignais, “Blood Palm” Black, and the rest were taken aback by Lumian’s reaction. They couldn’t fathom his audacity to splash coffee at “Black Scorpion” Roger in front of the superintendent and sabotage the mediation.

In particular, Baron Brignais felt as though he was encountering his former subordinate, now colleague, for the very first time.

Is he far more unruly and reckless than I had anticipated?

Does he refuse to accept any grievances and is unwilling to pay any price?

Although he attempted to shift the blame onto “Black Scorpion” Roger and the others, it was evident to anyone with a modicum of sense and perception that Lumian was the instigator of the conflict, driven by a strong will of his own.

Clearly, he had no intention of reconciliation. He sought only an excuse to undermine Superintendent Everett’s proposal.

Is this not a blatant slap in Superintendent Everett’s face?

The superintendent wielded considerable influence in the market district. A slight embellishment in reporting to higher authorities, or rather, stating the unvarnished truth, would draw the attention of official Beyonders and dismantle all our enterprises, including the leaders of the Savoie Mob!

Incensed, “Baldy” Harman denied Lumian the opportunity to shatter the coffee cup on his boss. He lunged forward, stooped down, grasped the coffee table’s edge, hoisted it, and flung it at the detestable individual.

Cups clattered to the ground, splintering into shards. Lumian deftly evaded the projectiles, swiftly drawing his black revolver from beneath his arm. He trained it on Harman amid the cacophonous crash of objects and the ensuing chaos.

“Baldy” Harman chuckled, a product of his extreme rage.

“You country hog, do you spurn Superintendent Everett’s gracious offer of mediation?

“Very well then, our Poison Spur Mob shall entertain you until one of us is vanquished from this game!

“Go ahead, fire away. Your audacity and lack of respect towards Superintendent Everett know no bounds. If you possess such ability, then pull the trigger!”

Were it not for the impending election and the stringent surveillance imposed by officials, the Poison Spur Mob would have long seized an opportunity to assassinate Ciel!

In that instant, “Black Scorpion” Roger rose once more. Black flames materialized within his clenched fists, only to dissipate swiftly.

He was reluctant to unveil his Beyonder powers in the presence of Superintendent Everett.

“Short-legged Candlestick” Castina also fixed her gaze on Lumian, poised to strike if he refused to relent.

Upon hearing “Baldy” Harman’s retort and provocation, Lumian chuckled.

Bang!

Lumian squeezed the trigger, unleashing a yellow bullet hurtling directly towards “Baldy” Harman’s skull.

His reflexes barely saved him. Harman crouched down just in time, his eyes widening in alarm.

The bullet grazed his glistening scalp and careened off, ricocheting into the adjacent washroom with a metallic clang.

In an instant, all the mob leaders sprang to their feet. “Black Scorpion” Roger and “Short-legged Candlestick” Castina fixated on Lumian, preparing to retaliate.

Undeterred, Lumian remained resolute. He lowered his gun and aimed it once more at “Baldy” Harman, his gaze devoid of any emotion.

“Enough!”

At that very moment, Superintendent Everett, who had been calmly seated, spoke up.

The indescribable authority emanating from him, combined with his esteemed position, compelled Lumian to instinctively halt his finger from pulling the trigger.

Seizing the opportunity, “Baldy” Harman shifted his position and rose to his feet.

Though the others maintained their combative stance, the palpable tension that had lingered dissipated.

Lamenting his missed chance, Lumian reluctantly holstered his revolver and turned to face Everett.

“Superintendent, I am willing to comply with your request, but they don’t seem inclined to do so.”

Everett’s eyes flickered behind his black-framed spectacles. Standing up, he surveyed the room.

“We will address your conflict after the election.

“For the next three days, I expect all of you to conduct yourselves properly. Fail to do so, and you shall make an enemy out of me. Trust me, that’s a predicament you won’t be able to handle.”

Although Everett’s voice carried depth, his tone remained calm, devoid of anger or arrogance. Instead, a hint of sincerity permeated his words.

Yet, those who had resided in the market district for more than two years recalled a term: the “Valiant Mob.”

Two years prior, the Valiant Mob held a similar status to the Savoie Mob in the market district. However, due to their repeated defiance and disrespect towards Superintendent Everett, they were ruthlessly eradicated in a joint operation conducted by the authorities. The subsequent rise of the Poison Spur Mob was partly due to the power vacuum left behind in the district’s underworld.

Now, only the Valiant café stood as a testament to the existence of such a mob.

The leaders of the Savoie Mob, the Poison Spur Mob, and the other two medium-sized gangs fell into silence for a few seconds before responding to Superintendent Everett’s words. They expressed their commitment to restrain their subordinates and ensure that the election proceeded without disruption.

Superintendent Everett’s gaze swept across their faces. Without uttering another word, he strode towards the exit of the private room.

As he disappeared beyond the door, “Black Scorpion” Roger, “Baldy” Harman, and “Short-legged Candlestick” Castina cast Lumian cold glances before departing from the café.

The remaining gang leaders didn’t linger, leaving only the Savoie Mob in the confines of the private room.

Baron Brignais took a leisurely puff from his pipe and addressed Lumian, “You acted too impulsively back there.”

Lumian offered a faint smile in response and replied, “I have been awaiting an opportunity like that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seize it to incite the conflict.”

Observing the puzzled expressions on the faces of “Giant” Simon, “Blood Palm” Black, and the others, Lumian calmly elaborated, “We have already made two attempts, and the Poison Spur Mob chose to endure. Baron, as you have rightly pointed out, they harbor a significant problem, and they await their chance. I believe that opportunity will present itself soon.

“If we fail to incapacitate the Poison Spur Mob before then, we shall face their unhinged retaliation. And when that moment arrives, none of you will be able to escape.

“Just a moment ago, there were only three members of the Poison Spur Mob present, while we numbered five. Red Boots, your strength is comparable to that of Black Scorpion. With my assistance, you can surely overpower him. Baron, Simon, Black, is it conceivable that you cannot handle Baldy and Short-legged Candlestick? One of you might even be able to impede Superintendent Everett.

“As long as the Poison Spur Mob dares to strike back, we shall eliminate them all right here!”

“Rat” Christo had received instructions from Superintendent Everett the previous night that he was not to be invited today.

Baron Brignais, “Blood Palm” Black, and their comrades found Ciel’s words reasonable, yet a deep-seated fear for this individual arose within their hearts.

He wasn’t bluffing. He genuinely desired to eliminate “Baldy” Harman and the others!

He was too crazy and extreme!

He possessed the audacity to commit any act without hesitation!

“But this is tantamount to slapping Superintendent Everett in the face. The repercussions will be exceedingly troublesome.” “Blood Palm” Black shook his head.

Franca shared the same concern. She wished to caution Lumian that such a course of action would render him unwelcome in the market district. He might even end up with another wanted poster.

However, recognizing that the other leaders were present and unable to reveal her true friendship with Lumian, Franca sealed her lips.

A quizzical smile played on Lumian’s lips as he inquired, “Wasn’t Superintendent Everett killed by the Poison Spur Mob?”

Lunatic… This notion raced through everyone’s minds.

Baron Brignais, gently stroking his mahogany-colored pipe, chimed in, “It’s nearly impossible to conceal that from official Beyonders. It’s merely an excuse.”

“In that case, let it go. Blame everything on a lunatic like me. At worst, I’ll depart from the market district. I trust the Boss will arrange another task for me once this storm blows over,” Lumian calmly remarked, a serene smile gracing his face.

This was indeed a fragment of his genuine thoughts.

Mr. K’s mission revolved around earning Gardner Martin’s trust, not running Salle de Bal Brise or establishing a foothold in the market district!

If his provocation had genuinely enraged “Black Scorpion” Roger and his accomplices, Lumian believed that Franca would surely come to his aid. With one of the Savoie Mob’s leaders on his side, the others wouldn’t hesitate to act. When the time came, united in strength, they stood a high chance of eliminating the remaining three leaders of the Poison Spur Mob.

Once he unraveled the Poison Spur Mob’s scheme, Gardner Martin would undoubtedly appreciate Lumian’s daring and unorthodox approach in eradicating hidden threats. Even if he lost Salle de Bal Brise and was compelled to “escape” once more, he would merely find sanctuary elsewhere in Trier and continue serving Gardner Martin until he gained his complete approval.

Furthermore, it was advantageous for Lumian. If the Poison Spur Mob finalized their preparations, he would be their primary target for revenge. Failing to address the issue beforehand would only heighten the danger he faced. In the future, even if Madame Moon birthed another group, Lumian wouldn’t fret. Today, Louis Lund would likely be present in the market district. By temporarily suppressing the deaths of “Black Scorpion” Roger and his cronies, creating a façade of tranquility, Lumian could patiently await his target at 126 Avenue du Marché.

These individuals weren’t parliamentary candidates whose demise would incite an uproar.

After a few moments of silence, Baron Brignais approached the door and issued a reminder, “Superintendent Everett has probably marked you. There will be considerable trouble after the election.”

Lumian responded with a smile, “Perhaps he will mysteriously vanish one day.”

Having said that, Lumian calmly endured the mildly apprehensive gazes of “Giant” Simon and his comrades.

You see, having laid the groundwork, anything I utter now will convince them all.

…

At 3:15 p.m., Lumian arrived at Quartier du Jardin Botanique in a public carriage. Once again, he beheld Mason Café, housed in a beige four-story building adorned with lush green plants entwined on its outer walls.

Passing through a sheltered walkway upheld by pillars, he entered the interior, enveloped by dark-green walls and expansive windows. Settling into the familiar Booth D, he removed his wide-brimmed round hat.

“A cup of Intis coffee,” he instructed the waitress and patiently waited.