Chapter 17: Suspect

“What exactly is it?” Lu Mi asked, both excited and slightly worried.

After sipping the “Venus Sacred Oil” specialty drink, the woman answered at a steady pace:

“You need to ask yourself.”

With that, she lowered her head slightly and focused on her breakfast, signaling an end to conversation.

Really, why do they always speak in half-truths and half-secrets… wait until next time to answer? Isn’t that just wasting everyone’s time? At that moment, Lu Mi felt he was somehow worse at provoking annoyance than she was.

He controlled his breathing, smiled, stood up, and took his leave.

For the rest of the day, Lu Mi stayed quietly at home, not stepping outside.

It wasn’t because he was too afraid of the owl to go out during daylight, nor because he had nothing to do—it was to put on a show for certain people.

—He was curious about the letter of help in Lyra’s hands, eager to know its exact content and who had written it; the best way to investigate was to find an opportunity to examine every small blue book in the village and locate the one with missing words. As a native villager, Lu Mi was certainly better suited than Ryan, Lyra, and Valentine to do this—but he feared that if he started investigating right after speaking with those three outsiders, someone might take notice and target him unnecessarily.

This matter, likely tied to life and death, existence and annihilation, even with Aurora’s protection, Lu Mi couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t take some risky action against him.

Over the past two years, he’d grown increasingly adept at gauging the right limits in his pranks.

It came from experience.

He planned to wait a few days, until Lent began, then visit every household under the pretense of seeking out festival legends.

When night fell and dinner was over, Aurora returned to her bedroom to write a long-delayed manuscript.

Lu Mi went to the study, intending to find books related to “dreams,” hoping to uncover what special insight he had within his dreams.

Since the house had only one battery-powered desk lamp, now claimed by Aurora, he could only light a kerosene lamp—strong-smelling and poorly illuminating.

Holding the kerosene lamp, its dim yellow glow, Lu Mi swiftly ran his other hand along the spines of books, occasionally pulling one out and tucking it under his armpit.

After a while, he returned to the table with three selected books.

As soon as he set down his things, Lu Mi saw the household’s small blue book.

It sat quietly in one corner of the desk, its gray-blue cover seemingly dusted with a thin layer of grime.

Seeing the small blue book, Lu Mi instantly recalled the one he’d found in the dream ruins, the one whose words had been cut out and arranged into a letter of help.

He reached out, picked up the book before him, and opened it, intending to scan its pages for words suitable for cutting and assembling into useful sentences.

After flipping only a few pages, Lu Mi froze.

On the page following the calendar, one of the explanatory phrases had a clear gap.

A word had been cut out!

“No way…” Lu Mi was utterly stunned.

He rapidly flipped through the small blue book and found over a dozen, maybe twenty, traces of missing words.

“No way…” Lu Mi whispered again, his reaction nearly identical to before.

The small blue book Ryan, Lyra, and Valentine were searching for—the one used to assemble the letter of help—was this one, right here in his own home!

Neither they nor Lu Mi himself had ever imagined such a turn of events!

Not for a single moment!

Amid indescribable complex emotions, Lu Mi frowned:

“Could Aurora have written the letter of help?

“Why would she need help? Why appeal to the authorities? Why not tell me?”

From Lyra and the others’ behavior, their instinctive choice to consult the parish priest upon arrival, he’d preliminarily judged they were likely officials—perhaps from the government, or from the Eternal Sun Church or the Church of Steam and Machinery in the Dariel region.

Lu Mi hesitated, his expression shifting constantly.

Finally, he made up his mind, took the small blue book, left the study, and went to Aurora’s bedroom door.

He intended to ask her directly.

He chose to trust Aurora.

Knock knock knock. Lu Mi curled his fingers and tapped on the door.

“Come in,” Aurora’s voice came from inside.

Lu Mi turned the handle and stepped in, seeing Aurora, dressed in a two-piece cotton nightgown, her golden hair tied back with a hair clip, bent over her writing under the bright desk lamp.

“Did you cut these out?” Without waiting for his sister to speak, Lu Mi walked straight over.

“Huh?” Aurora turned, puzzled, her gaze distant and slightly detached, as if still immersed in her story.

Lu Mi handed her the small blue book opened to the right page, staring into her eyes:

“You didn’t do this?”

Aurora studied it for several seconds, then laughed lightly:

“Would I be so bored and childish?

“Your sister is steady, mature, composed—unlike you.”

Aurora’s reaction was perfectly natural… no sudden shock, no panic at being exposed… Lu Mi didn’t hide his confusion and asked:

“Then who would cut words out of a small blue book?”

“Isn’t it you?” Aurora studied her brother. “After reading my novels, you decided to imitate them—cutting words from books and newspapers to assemble a kidnapping note, playing a big prank in the village, and first testing whether you could fool me? Are you testing your sister’s deductive skills?”

It really didn’t seem like Aurora did it… Lu Mi kept his eyes fixed on her face, not missing a single micro-expression—his sister showed no sign of guilt or unease.

“Not me,” Lu Mi frowned. “Then who?”

Aurora smiled:

“You play your detective game first—I still have to finish my manuscript.

“If I’m free tomorrow, I’ll help you reconstruct the truth.”

With supernatural means? Lu Mi grunted in agreement and stopped disturbing his sister’s writing.

He took the small blue book back to his own unlit room and sat in the chair behind his desk.

“Who could it be?”

Beneath the crimson moon high above, Lu Mi muttered to himself again.

He tried reasoning:

“There are only two people in this house—Aurora, a witch with supernatural abilities, wouldn’t let anyone mess around here…

“If it truly isn’t her, then according to her logic, eliminate all impossibilities—the remaining possibility, however improbable, must be the truth.

“So, in this binary case, it must have been me?”

For a moment, Lu Mi found the idea absurd and almost funny.

So the criminal is myself?

How come I don’t remember?

He couldn’t help turning his body toward the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe.

In the crimson moonlight, the mirror showed Lu Mi in a linen shirt and brown trousers, his handsome features expressionless, his face heavy with gravity.

He was certain he had never cut out any words from the small blue book.

To confirm this, he recalled his activities over the past month.

Though many details were hazy, he was still confident about the general course of events.

Bathed in the crimson moonlight seeping through the window, Lu Mi whispered silently:

“Could I have done it while unconscious?

“While dreaming, did my body sleepwalk?

“No, impossible—Aurora said she watches over me. If I’d sleepwalked and cut the book, she would’ve pointed it out just now. Besides, sending the letter must’ve happened during the day, when I was fully awake.”

Lu Mi eliminated himself and considered other possibilities:

“Could someone else have come to the house?”

Though they rarely had visitors, it wasn’t impossible.

First, poorer neighbors sometimes came to borrow the stove, oven, or to smoke meat or bake bread;

Second, Lu Mi’s friends occasionally visited, coming to the study to read simple novels or listen to his stories;

Finally, a few women—Nalaiza, Mrs. Pualis—occasionally dropped by to chat with Aurora; among them, Mrs. Pualis visited most often, even lending Aurora her small horse so she could ride freely in the hills—their relationship was fairly close.

After all, in a village like Kerdou, only a writer like Aurora was worth Mrs. Pualis’s attention.

Still, Mrs. Pualis appeared warm and kind—she often sat with Naloka and other women sunbathing and chatting, even helped them pick lice off each other, and had an excellent reputation in the village.

Although Mrs. Pualis and Aurora were barely friends, Lu Mi disliked her intensely because she constantly tried to introduce him to some relative of hers, pressuring Aurora to marry and have children soon.

If Mrs. Pualis’s relatives were decent, that might be fine—but every time Lu Mi inquired in Dariel, he found the targets either immoral or incompetent, nearly destitute, none of them good.

One instance might be coincidence, but every time like this made Lu Mi resent Mrs. Pualis.

“Those who came to smoke meat or bake bread couldn’t have done it—someone always watched them, and they weren’t allowed upstairs… Raymond, Ava, and the others couldn’t have either—I was with them the whole time… But Mrs. Pualis, Nalaiza, and the other women had some opportunity—each time they came, Aurora would leave them in the study to read while she prepared snacks…

“If Mrs. Pualis really were a witch, then her need to hide her identity when appealing to the authorities makes sense, and her caution in using someone else’s small blue book to avoid being traced…

“Did she discover something while having an affair with the parish priest, and needed to protect herself this way?”

The more Lu Mi thought, the more excited he became—he felt he was about to pinpoint the suspect.

He stood up, paced a few steps, then suddenly headed downstairs.

He didn’t intend to confront Mrs. Pualis, nor to spy on her now—he planned to borrow a small blue book from Raymond or young Guillaume Berri, to compare and reconstruct which words had been cut and what sentences they could form.

In this way, Lu Mi stood a good chance of reconstructing the exact content of the letter of help.

He clattered down the stairs, passed through the kitchen, and opened the front door.

Crimson darkness flooded in, instantly cooling his thoughts.

“Uh… Sister said not to go out after dark until we figure out what’s going on with that owl…” Lu Mi muttered, stepped back two paces, and closed the door.

Borrowing the small blue book wasn’t urgent anyway—doing it tomorrow would seem more natural.

He stretched his body and walked toward the staircase.

Ding ling ling, ding ling ling.

The doorbell was pulled, its sound echoing out.

“Who is it?” Lu Mi turned around, walking toward the door as he asked in confusion.

A soft, slightly magnetic female voice came from outside:

“It’s me, Puali Si de Luokefu.”

(End of chapter)