Chapter 504 - 504 "Breakup"

504 “Breakup”

“In an instant, I found myself with no alternative but to depart. Staying put was not an option. Besides, lingering too long might jeopardize my friend and jeopardize the fortune he had tirelessly amassed.

Lumian raised the emerald-green absinthe to his lips once more.

Pavard Neeson, the proprietor of the bar, gently placed his glass on the counter and let out a sigh.

“That’s truly unfortunate.”

A sly grin played on Lumian’s lips.

“Alright, I’ve wrapped up my tale. How about a complimentary drink on the house?”

Pavard, his ponytail giving him a somewhat artistic appearance, was momentarily taken aback.

…

Minutes before the stroke of midnight, Charlie, clad in a black coat, exited the basement bar of Auberge du Coq Doré and retraced his steps to his rented apartment.

Under the gentle autumn night sky, a soothing breeze played, neither bone-chilling nor overly brisk. It seemed to cleanse both body and mind with each inhale. Charlie couldn’t resist taking a deep breath.

“Dogsh*t, which drunkard peed all over the place again?” The foul odor in the air soured Charlie’s mood.

At that very moment, a silhouette emerged from the shadows up ahead.

The figure boasted golden-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a strikingly handsome face—none other than Ciel Dubois.

Haven’t you left Trier? Charlie’s heart surged with joy, ready to inquire further.

But almost instantly, he caught sight of the dark expression on Ciel’s face, as if a tempest brewed within his eyes.

Charlie jumped in fright, his thoughts racing. Instinctively, he said, “I-I was going to let you know…”

Before he could finish, Lumian materialized before him, his right fist meeting Charlie’s face with a solid impact.

The force sent golden specks dancing in Charlie’s vision. He teetered backward, struggling to maintain his balance.

Lumian’s countenance darkened as he spoke, “Considering our past friendship, I won’t kill you this time.”

With that, he pivoted in his dark jacket and strode towards a dimly lit alley, away from the glow of street lamps.

Clutching his throbbing face, Charlie watched Ciel vanish into the shadows. Anxious and incensed, he blurted out, “But I couldn’t locate you! How was I supposed to inform you that you’re wanted?”

Lumian offered no response, disappearing into the alley.

Rooted to the spot, Charlie couldn’t suppress his curses.

Frustration and resentment welled up within him.

Why did he suddenly become so unreasonable?

It’s not my fault you’re wanted. I’ve done my utmost to help!

I’m just a clerk; there’s a limit to what I can accomplish!

…

The next morning, Charlie had just settled into his subterranean office at Église Saint-Robert, armed with a meatloaf. Before he could even start brewing a cup of coffee, he spotted Angoulême, the deacon clad in a brown double-breasted coat, heading his way.

“Morning, Deacon,” Charlie exclaimed, rising to his feet and greeting him with eager deference.

Angoulême glanced at the bruises on his left cheek.

“What happened? Did you get into a scuffle?”

“Oh, no, not at all! I, uh, collided—with a statue!” Charlie suddenly grew jittery and waved his hand dismissively. “It might sound unbelievable, but those lunatics get wild when they’re drunk. Some rant about toppling the government, others believe their vomit is gourmet cuisine, and a few decide to relocate hefty statues to random corners. I accidentally bumped into one.”

Angoulême maintained a steady gaze on the clerk and spoke with measured calmness,

“Your lies lack finesse. Do you recall the clause in the contract about not concealing crucial information?”

Charlie’s expression stiffened, his lips faltering before he stammered, “I-it’s Ciel. Ciel Dubois attacked me. Perhaps he’s resentful because I didn’t notify him beforehand about being wanted by us.”

Angoulême listened in silence. After a brief pause, he remarked, “Very well. That’s more like what a competent Purifier clerk should be. Where did you encounter him?”

“Right outside Auberge du Coq Doré, just past the first alley leading to Avenue du Marché,” Charlie responded, a blend of nervousness and concern coloring his voice.

Angoulême delved into further details and said to Charlie, “Given that Ciel Dubois’s true circumstances surpassed our expectations, we scrutinized all the files associated with him. It came to light that you share a close bond with him and that he was implicated in Susanna Mattise’s Beyonder case. Upon including him in that matter, it became apparent that you concealed numerous details.”

Charlie, upon hearing the deacon’s words, stiffened, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

“I-I…” He faltered, unable to find words, as if the specter of his impending doom loomed large.

At that moment, Angoulême took the initiative to ask, “Did Ciel force you to hide these details?”

“No, it wasn’t coercion,” Charlie responded instinctively, quickly adding, “He requested it.”

“As expected, a request,” Angoulême nodded thoughtfully and probed into every nuance of the Susanna Mattise incident.

With his psychological defenses stripped away, Charlie laid bare every detail to the Purifier deacon.

Upon concluding his account, Angoulême spoke with gravity, “For someone in your position as a Purifier clerk, concealing vital case details would typically lead to immediate dismissal, if not imprisonment…”

Though Charlie had braced himself for such a repercussion, the actual words felt like a blow to the head. His body swayed, teetering on the brink of imbalance.

Before he could mount a plea, Angoulême shifted the conversation.

“However, your recent performance has been commendable. You’ve shown diligence, dedication, and commitment to your studies. Moreover, it appears you haven’t leaked information to Ciel, caushing his resentment towards you.

“As the deacon of the market district’s Inquisition, I’m inclined not to cast aside someone who has earnestly climbed out of the abyss and crush their last hope. Given your clean record after becoming a Purifier clerk and the authenticity of the Susanna Mattise incident, I’m offering you another chance. I can’t just push you out and wait for Ciel to kill you or the Mother Tree of Desire’s bestowed to find you again, can I?

“You’ll be terminated, but you can intern here. Your salary will revert to the intern level for six months. If you excel and avoid errors during this period, you may be rehired. Otherwise, you’ll be asked to leave immediately.

“In simpler terms, your punishment is a six-month probation.”

Charlie, upon hearing these words, felt a surge of relief, as if he had plummeted into hell only to be yanked back into heaven.

In a frenzy of gratitude, he slumped back into his seat, drained of strength.

As Angoulême departed, Charlie’s mind reeled, scenes flashing before his eyes.

After a few seconds, he raised his right hand and delivered a self-inflicted slap.

Muttering in frustration and regret, he reflected,

“To think, last night at the bar, I boasted about Ciel and me being friends who had faced life and death together…”

…

Shortly after returning to his office, Angoulême received a telegram.

It originated from Saint Viève Cathedral’s Plessy Descartes, overseeing the Trier diocese.

The Cardinal summoned Angoulême to Saint Viève Cathedral for a discussion.

Saint Viève Cathedral.

Ascending a dazzling staircase to an area near the dome, a small room awaited. It stood as one of the places in Trier closest to the sun.

Clad in a white robe adorned with golden threads, Cardinal Plessy spent his days here, bathed in holy light.

An elderly man with high cheekbones and grizzled blond hair, his demeanor lacked sternness, yet a radiant glow made direct eye contact impossible, rendering the room eerily devoid of shadows.

“While you faced challenges during the recent catastrophe due to unforeseen events and intel disruptions, your ability to grasp crucial information and manage subsequent arrangements was noteworthy. We haven’t overlooked your performance in the market district over the past year,” Plessy commended amicably.

“Praise the Sun!” Angoulême proclaimed, extending his arms in acknowledgment of the Lord’s glory.

Plessy’s satisfaction deepened.

“In light of the current circumstances and the foreseeable future, we intend to establish three Purifier teams directly under the Trier diocese. This will provide flexibility in handling various Beyonder incidents.”

At this point, the Cardinal offered a rare smile.

“You’ve been swamped with work for the past six months. Privately, you’ve voiced concerns about lacking leisure time. Do not blame yourself; it’s a common human experience. As a deacon in the Trier diocese, you should find more leisure time. Your role will involve addressing cases beyond the capacity or timeframe of the Purifiers in the districts.

“Of course, this also entails risk. You must comprehend this clearly.

“François, Sequence 4 marks a qualitative transformation. Many within the Inquisition are aspiring to become Saints. If you wish to surpass them, you must make remarkable contributions. The first step is to become a deacon of a small team under a large diocese. The second step involves amassing contributions and wielding a Holy Artifact. The third step is to await an opportune moment.

“Do you aspire to be a deacon? I respect your desires.”

Flexibility… Addressing cases beyond the reach of Purifiers in various districts… I should typically have considerable freedom. How could there be so many significant matters… I don’t know if Gandalf’s apocalyptic prophecy holds true, but there’s no harm in self-improvement… Angoulême pondered briefly and responded, “Your Eminence, thy will be done.”

Plessy smiled and said, “As a deacon, you’ll be tasked with selecting team members.”

“Yes, Your Eminence.” Angoulême extended his arms once more, praising the sun.

Upon returning to the underground confines of Église Saint-Robert, he summoned the mixed-blood Imre to his office, apprising his subordinate of the Trier diocese team.

“Are you willing to follow me?” Angoulême inquired.

Imre smiled and replied, “Does this mean I can advance my Sequence and earn a higher salary? I have no issue with that!”

After agreeing, the mixed-blood inquired, “Who should we choose next?”

Angoulême fell into silence for over ten seconds before stating, “Don’t consider individuals like Valentine, those with a wife and children. Approach those who are single.

“A team under direct command is both an honor and a risk.”

Angoulême released a soft sigh and added, “Which Purifier with a happy family wouldn’t want to witness their child grow and spend more time with their spouse? Let the single individuals among us bear this burden.”