Chapter 18: Blunt

Madame Pualis… Lumian was startled, feeling as if someone had come to his home to silence him.

Thinking of his sister upstairs, who possessed extraordinary abilities, he grew calmer.

Slowly exhaling, Lumian walked over and opened the door.

Two women stood outside; the one in front wore a sleek, jet-black corseted gown, a matching shawl draped over her shoulders, sheer long gloves on her hands, and a small round hat slightly tilted, giving it a playful air.

She was entirely black, save for a diamond necklace set with gold at her chest.

Her eyebrows were faint, her bright brown eyes smiling, her long brown hair pinned into a high bun; her features, viewed individually, were unremarkable, but together they formed a clean, alluring beauty. Combined with her elegant bearing and graceful posture, she made the faint blush of night at Lumian’s doorway seem fresher, faintly perfumed.

She was precisely Madame Pualis, wife of the administrative officer and land judge of Kerdou Village.

Of course, in Lumian’s mind, she also carried additional descriptors: “the parish priest’s mistress,” “suspected witch,” “suspect of the appeal letter,” “that white, fleshy body in the church”—but none of these could be spoken aloud, or Madame Pualis would instantly change expression.

At that point, he might succeed in angering her—but disaster would surely follow.

“Madame Pualis, what brings you here?” Lumian deliberately glanced outside at the sky, implying that visiting at this hour was inappropriate.

Madame Pualis’s red lips glistened slightly as she murmured:

“I’ve come to discuss something with your sister, Aurora.”

Judging by her appearance alone, she looked nothing like a woman over thirty with two children—more like twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

Lumian considered for a moment, then stepped aside to let her pass.

He told Madame Pualis as she entered:

“Aurora is upstairs, writing for a newspaper column.”

Madame Pualis nodded and spoke to her maid beside her:

“Cathy, wait for me downstairs.”

“Yes, madam.” Cathy, dressed in black-and-white maid’s uniform, took a few steps toward the warm stove.

Lumian led Madame Pualis through the kitchen and up the stairs.

Just at the corner, Madame Pualis stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Lumian turned, feigning confusion.

Madame Pualis smiled and asked:

“Did you deliberately bring those three outsiders to the church?”

She’s come to confront me… Lumian didn’t panic—in fact, he grew even calmer.

Past experience with pranks that angered people had taught him: at moments like this, never answer directly, never defend yourself—the best move is to accuse, to point out some fault of the other person!

Of course, this still depended on the situation; running away was the backup option.

Lumian quickly wore an angry expression and looked at Madame Pualis:

“You’re having an affair in God’s church!”

He then spread his arms wide, assuming the “embrace the sun” pose:

“My God, my Father, forgive these sinful mortals for their desecration.”

Madame Pualis watched silently, then her lips curved into an unusually exquisite smile:

“I think God will forgive us.

“I once read a book that said: a woman sleeping with her true lover can cleanse all sins, because love makes pleasure pure, as if born from the purest heart.

“Being with Guillaume Béne brings me great joy and happiness, so the ‘Eternal Sun’ shouldn’t be angry—it’s not a sin.”

What kind of books are you reading, madam… Lumian couldn’t help mentally muttering.

Madame Pualis continued:

“Still, it is disrespectful to Saint Sis.”

In every region of Andes, there was one or several patron angels or saints—either from the scriptures of the “Eternal Sun” Church or the “God of Steam and Machinery,” or from figures in Andes history who made special contributions, whose fame spread widely and who were recognized by both churches.

In the Dariji region, the patron saint of the “Eternal Sun” Church was Saint Sis—meaning every “Eternal Sun” church there could technically be called Saint Sis Church, though to distinguish them, only the largest and most central one bore that name, others using alternate titles.

Thus, Madame Pualis and the parish priest having an affair in the church was like the steward of Saint Sis secretly bringing someone home, occupying the master’s bedroom, and committing immoral acts—an extreme disrespect to the patron saint.

“Yes,” Lumian nodded solemnly. “Isn’t the parish priest ashamed?”

Madame Pualis burst into laughter.

After laughing, she said to Lumian:

“I also tried to persuade him. I said: ‘Oh my, how can we do this in Saint Sis’s church?’

“Do you know what the parish priest replied?

“He said: ‘Well, Saint Sis will just have to bear with it.’”

Lumian, inexperienced in such matters, didn’t know how to respond.

“He’s desecrating the saint!” he finally blurted out.

Madame Pualis wore a nostalgic expression:

“He’s always been like that—bold, direct, like a bandit who curses and crashes through your soul’s door, nothing like the gentlemen of Dariji.

“Perhaps that’s exactly why I slept with him.”

“That’s just normal male lust. Even if the god himself were there, he’d tell Him to wait.” Lumian had no personal experience, but he’d read Aurora’s novels—more than one—“It’s the lower body controlling the brain. No, at that moment, his brain was empty, filled with another kind of liquid.”

Madame Pualis gave a faint smile:

“I know that’s the reason, but in that moment, he truly seemed charming.

“Heh, you’re clearly an inexperienced boy—you don’t realize how the same words, in different settings and atmospheres, can evoke entirely different feelings.

“I remember the first time I slept with the parish priest—he stood there, looking into my eyes, and said directly: ‘Pualis, I want to understand your body and soul more deeply.’ At any other time, I’d have thought him a crude, vulgar lecher and called for help to stop him. But then, my body went weak—it was simply the right atmosphere.”

As she spoke, Madame Pualis’s smile grew sultry:

“It’s like—if I fancied a man, I’d say to him: ‘Come to my house tonight, shall we?’

“If he truly came, I’d take him straight to the bedroom and tell him: ‘I want to sleep with you. I love you.’

“Lumian, what would you say, as a man, in such a moment?”

Lumian often exchanged crude jokes with village men; though slightly uncomfortable now, he held his ground, recalling stories from his sister’s novels and other contemporary writers, then carefully replied:

“I’d say: ‘Madam, you are my sun.’”

“You have talent…” Madame Pualis complimented.

As she spoke, she leaned forward, her gaze becoming moist.

A warm breath brushed Lumian’s ear; a low, velvety female voice whispered:

“I want to sleep with you…”

In that instant, Lumian’s heart trembled, his body tingling as if he’d touched a broken lamp.

He stepped sharply up the stairs and said to Madame Pualis:

“Aurora must be waiting for you.”

“Mm.” Madame Pualis straightened, her smile faint, her gaze now calm and clear.

As if nothing had happened.

This woman… Lumian suddenly felt fear.

He quickly turned and hurried up to the second floor; Madame Pualis followed calmly, maintaining her usual pace.

Aurora, having heard the doorbell, was already waiting outside her bedroom.

“So slow?” she looked at Lumian.

Lumian hinted:

“We talked about the church.”

Aurora understood at once, giving her brother a look: “Pray to the ‘Eternal Sun’ for good luck.”

She turned to Madame Pualis, who had just reached the second floor, and smiled:

“What’s this about?”

“Discussing some preparations for Lent. A certain celebration might need your help,” Madame Pualis said with a smile.

“I’m very busy these days…” Aurora searched for an excuse.

Madame Pualis pointed to the study door:

“Why not hear it first?”

“Alright.” Aurora had enough manners.

Watching his sister and Madame Pualis enter the study and close the wooden door, Lumian gave an almost imperceptible nod:

“Behaved normally—no guilty hesitation to return to the ‘crime scene’…”

At that moment, a thought flashed through his mind:

“Madame Pualis has a high probability of being a female witch. Could I obtain extraordinary power from her?

“That’s far easier and safer than chasing the truth of witches, facing that owl, or exploring that dangerous dream ruin…

“And that dream ruin must be explored—its secrets must be uncovered, its threat eliminated. With extraordinary power, the risk would be lower.”

Thinking this, Lumian suddenly felt alert and shook his head.

He immediately began self-criticism:

“How could I think like this?

“I still don’t know if Madame Pualis is friend or foe—how could I recklessly seek extraordinary power through her?

“Hmm, she didn’t act like a good person just now—she even made me feel danger…

“What’s wrong with me lately? In pursuing extraordinary power, I’ve been too eager, too reckless—as if I’ll die if I don’t get it right away…”

Lumian had known his sister was a witch for nearly two years. Previously, though he’d tried to obtain extraordinary power, he’d never made as many desperate efforts as in the past few days—regardless of whether the opportunity was good or bad, dangerous or not, if it looked promising, he rushed toward it like someone starving and eating anything.

“Phew… Thank goodness I noticed in time. Otherwise, my path might have grown increasingly twisted and dangerous,” Lumian exhaled deeply, relieved to have regained his composure.

Of course, the pursuit of transcendent power could not stop, but choices had to be made, for that dangerous dream had already revealed its face, and the undercurrents in the village grew ever more turbulent.

(End of Chapter)