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nChapter 116 City of Fashion

nIn the morning, while “shopping” at Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman, Lumian noticed that Trier’s citizens dressed rather casually, or perhaps boldly. This was evident in the women wearing short sleeves that bared their forearms or garments with cut-out shoulders that displayed their collarbones. On the other hand, there was no shortage of peculiar attire.

nIn the Dariège region, a warlock like Osta, donning a black robe and hood, resembled an ancient legend. It was impossible for him to walk the streets openly without being stopped by the police. In Trier, however, passersby paid him no mind.

nSuch appearances were all too common. People dressed in a variety of antiquated garments.

nOsta Trul was undoubtedly more cautious. Periodically, he would glance over his shoulder to spot anyone suspicious, but Lumian maintained such a great distance that neither of them were within the other’s line of sight. Lumian trailed Osta from one street to the next, following the faint scent of the inferior cologne.

nAs gas lamps illuminated the surroundings, Osta turned into a street sheltered by glass domes and steel frames.

nThis place was brightly lit and lined with upscale shops. Smooth marble paved the ground, and the area bustled with pedestrians -a stark contrast to the ramshackle alleys of Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

nThis is the arcade Aurore mentioned? Lumian observed Osta pausing in front of a store to admire the window display. He too slowed down, scanning the area.

nHe quickly spotted people engaging in “unusual” behavior.

nDressed in formal attire, both men and women walked turtles of varying sizes.

nThe turtles inched forward, and their owners, holding a rope, trailed leisurely behind.

nUpon seeing a man dressed in a black formal suit and silk top hat walking a turtle, Lumian couldn’t help but inquire, “My friend, what are you doing?”

nThe man turned his head, revealing a powdered face.

nHe responded with a smile, “Foreigner, I’m simply taking a stroll, walking my turtle.”

n“Why a turtle?” Lumian didn’t conceal his puzzlement.

nThe impeccably groomed gentleman appeared pleased to share his fashion philosophy. He grinned and explained, “Most Trieriens enjoy walking around leisurely, but they fail to grasp the essence of leisure and elegance. They always walk briskly and seem rushed.

n“A true stroll is slower than a turtle. Thus, we walk turtles and let them lead to emphasize our leisurely pace.

n“It’s a gauge to measure walking speed and a device to quantify elegance.”

nLumian had to concede that Trieriens consistently expanded his perspective as a country bumpkin from Cordu.

nAurore couldn’t have even written a story about walking a turtle!

n“A true Trierien!” Lumian applauded, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

nRegrettably, the gentleman failed to grasp his underlying message. He smiled modestly and continued to follow the turtle at a leisurely pace.

nBefore long, Osta reached the other end of the arcade.

nLumian waited for a moment before cautiously following.

nAfter exiting the arcade, Osta positioned himself by the nearby public carriage stop.

nWithin minutes, a massive carriage, drawn by two horses, arrived.

nThe carriage was divided into two levels. The yellow-painted exterior bore words like “Line 7” written in Intisian. The driver donned a short green coat and a wide-brimmed hat to fend off the rain.

nAs the carriage came to a stop, a conductor sporting a small hat, striped shirt, and unattractive pants appeared at the open door, scrutinizing each passenger boarding the carriage as if they were criminals.

nOsta was the third person to climb aboard. He chose a window seat, observing the passersby and the men and women taking their seats.

nLumian watched from a distance without approaching.

nIt was only when the Line 7 carriage had pulled away that he quickened his pace, practically jogging to catch up.

nGiven the relatively slow speed of public transportation and the rule of stopping at every station, Lumian wasn’t concerned about being left behind.

nAs he ran, some pedestrians eyed him curiously, while a few even jogged alongside, seemingly believing this to be the latest trend.

nIs there something wrong with your brains? Lumian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. After three stops, he saw Osta Trul disembark from the public carriage. This area was already part of Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman. Osta crossed two streets and turned onto Rue des Blouses Blanches, which Charlie had mentioned. He entered an old beige apartment building numbered 20.

nLumian halted in front of a street-side newspaper stand, picked up a paper, and casually flipped through it.

nSimultaneously, he observed the entrance to the apartment building from the corner of his eye. “It’s 11 coppets for one,” the newsstand owner reminded Lumian when he noticed that he was only reading and not buying.

nLumian was holding a copy of Le Petit Trierien, and without minding, he took out two 5-coppet and one 1-coppet coins and tossed them onto the other newspapers.

nThe newsstand owner fell silent. Lumian continued reading the newspaper.

n“City Hall discussing new price plans with the water supply company…

n“Valéry slams consumerism as a fetish…

n“Greatest project in human history seeks collaboration…”

nThe final advertisement caught Lumian’s attention as he reminded him of something: It reeked of a prankster or a swindler’s ploy! As Lumian kept an eye on the apartment, he read the corresponding content with growing interest.

n“The future of humanity lies in the stars. The history of mankind was forged by the brave to explore.

n“In this era of rapid technological progress, we lack civilization pioneers, visionaries with exceptional insight and foresight, and adventurers with courage. “Last time, we were trapped in the Berserk Sea.

nThis time, we’re trapped within the atmosphere. However, human civilization and technology will undoubtedly overcome all obstacles and dangers to forge a true future. “We seek to collaborate with all dreamers to construct a space bridge that will enable us to walk from the surface to the crimson moon. “Point of Contact: Bulle Patil. “Contact Method: 9th Rue Saint-Martin, 5th floor, Quartier 2.”

nThe more Lumian read, the more amused he became. He found himself in deep contemplation.

nAs Cordu’s Prankster King and one influenced by Aurore’s eccentric ideas, he had never conceived such an outrageous, ludicrous, and absurd notion. Yet, these individuals had brazenly advertised it, as though certain they could fool a crowd.

nAm I still underestimating the average human IQ? Lumian stroked his chin with his gloved left hand.

nAt that moment, he saw a group of people approaching the old apartment at 20 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

nThe leader was a distinguished-looking gentleman in a silk top hat and black suit. He had a chiseled profile, a mahogany-colored pipe in his mouth, and a diamond ring on his left hand that sparkled under the light. The burly men surrounding the gentleman appeared menacing. They wore either canvas shirts or dark jackets, giving off a gang-like vibe.

nAfter they vanished into the apartment’s entrance, Lumian walked over with the newspaper.

nAt the base of the stairs, he detected several colognes simultaneously. One was faint and familiar—the inferior cologne he had applied to Osta. The other was more aromatic, sweet, and slightly cloying. Musk cologne? From the man with the pipe? Lumian followed the scent all the way up to the apartment’s fifth floor.

nThere, he saw Osta Trul. The imposter dressed as a warlock found himself encircled by the same group of individuals. The gentleman with the diamond ring tapped his forehead with his mahogany-colored pipe, smiling politely. “Don’t think you can shake us off just because you’ve moved. Until you repay all the debt, I’ll follow you endlessly, like a shadow.” Osta stammered fearfully, “I’ll have money soon. I can return a portion to you tomorrow!”

n“Very good,” the ‘gentleman’ nodded with a smile.

nHe then turned the pipe and jabbed Osta’s face with the still-smoldering end.

nOsta recoiled in pain but dared not make a sound.

nThe ‘gentleman’ withdrew his pipe and said gently, yet firmly, “This is a little interest. If you don’t pay me back tomorrow, I’ll take one of your fingers.”

nWith that, he placed his hand on his chest and bowed politely.

n“See you tomorrow, my friend.” At the staircase, Lumian pursed his lips and muttered to himself, Are people and dogs learning from Gehrman now?

nAs Fors Wall’s “The Adventurer” series gained popularity, Gehrman Sparrow impersonators cropped up across the Northern and Southern Continents. Phrases like “this is basic courtesy” and “a bestowment or a curse” spread far and wide.

nAs the group approached, Lumian lowered his head and stepped aside, acting like an ordinary tenant encountering gangsters.

nChaotic footsteps echoed as they descended floor by floor, soon giving way to silence. Lumian glanced in Osta Trul’s direction, noting that he had already retreated to his room and closed the wooden door.

nAfter some contemplation, Lumian flexed his gloved left hand and adjusted his hat. He walked out of the staircase and approached Osta’s door.

nBang! Bang! Bang! He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

nAfter a moment, Osta opened the door, his face a mix of shock and fear. He stammered shakily, “I really can’t get that money until tomorrow…”

nBefore he could finish, Lumian’s figure came sharply into focus in his eyes.

nLumian spread his arms and asked with a beaming smile, “Surprised?”

n“You, you, you…” Osta backed away as if he’d seen a ghost.

nLumian followed him into the room and smiled at Osta Trul.

n“I truly wish to forget the pain of the past, but I’m also a cautious person. I’m afraid of being swindled and, worse, being mocked as a fool.”

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