Chapter 75: The Mute (Requesting Monthly Votes)

Because his sister needed rest, Lumian couldn’t learn new Hermes or Ancient Hermes words, so he only reviewed what he’d already mastered; around ten o’clock, he stepped out and headed straight for the Old Tavern.

He wanted to see if the mysterious woman would appear now that he’d become the “Dancer,” offering more knowledge, and also because Lyra and the other outsiders lived there—after yesterday’s events, they might not have gone out today.

Inside the Old Tavern, Lumian swiftly scanned the room and was disappointed to find the woman’s usual seat empty, no sign of her.

He exhaled slowly and walked toward the bar, planning to ask if the three outsiders were present.

At that moment, the tavern owner Maurice Béne seemed to have just woken up, clearly lacking energy, his nose red as he conversed with a customer at the bar.

The customer was agitated, gesturing wildly with his hands, making “ah ah” sounds but unable to speak.

A mute? Lumian curiously edged closer and realized the customer wasn’t one of the village’s two original mutes—he was Jean Morin, husband of Sibille Berry.

Sibille was the concubine of the parish priest Guillaume Béne and the sister of shepherd Pierre Berry, a member of that small group.

Jean Morin wasn’t a mute… Lumian studied the middle-aged man with confusion.

His black hair was messy, his beard unshaven, and his eyes filled with anger and fear.

Unlike his usual gloomy demeanor, he was now extremely agitated, constantly gesturing and making “ah ah ah” sounds, trying to tell the tavern owner something.

Lumian muttered “strange” to himself, then stepped up to the bar and tapped the counter with a smile:

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Maurice, did you sell Jean some fake liquor? Look at him—he’s so furious he can’t even speak.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Maurice Béne quickly denied responsibility. “He went mute himself.”

Jean Morin stopped, glanced at Lumian, and returned to his usual gloomy state.

He turned and walked out of the Old Tavern.

Only after he vanished through the door did Lumian lower his voice to ask:

“What happened to him?”

Maurice Béne glanced outside, then lowered his voice too:

“They say he caught Sibille and the parish priest in bed together last night—it drove him mute. Today he’s been running around gesturing about it everywhere. Ha, he’s too much of a coward to go to Dariel and report the priest. Serves him right!”

Lumian listened, bewildered and shocked.

If he remembered correctly, Jean Morin had long known about his wife Sibille’s affair with the parish priest and had tolerated it—his only concern was preventing her from bedding other men. How could such a minor, anticipated event make him go mute from rage?

There must be something wrong here!

Besides, in the previous cycle, Jean Morin never became mute—Lumian would have known about it.

In Kerdou Village, this would have been top-tier news, spreading faster than wildfire.

Could it be that our investigations triggered disturbances, causing Jean Morin to experience something he never would have otherwise? Lumian speculated, his expression brightening:

“Really?”

“Then I’ve got to go ask him properly!”

The tavern owner Maurice Béne wasn’t the least surprised by Lumian’s nosiness—he thought it perfectly natural.

He laughed and scolded:

“You little rascal, behave yourself. Don’t go tormenting that poor man.”

“Besides, he’s mute—he can’t even write words. How’s he going to explain what happened?”

Lumian grinned:

“Can’t he use gestures?”

He raised both hands, clenching his left fist and lightly tapping it against his right palm.

In the Dariel region and southern Intis, this was a universal gesture meaning sexual intercourse between a man and a woman.

Maurice Béne grumbled:

“I hope you still have a shred of kindness left. Don’t go playing tricks on that poor man.”

“Relax—I just want to ‘hear’ the story.” Lumian waved and dashed out of the Old Tavern, searching for Jean Morin.

But the man had vanished—he wasn’t gesturing to villagers anymore—and Lumian searched every corner of Kerdou Village without finding a trace.

Finally, he arrived at Jean Morin’s house.

At the front gate, Sibille Berry, dressed in a gray-white dress, was sorting through some spoiled potatoes.

“What do you want?” The woman looked up at Lumian.

Like Pierre Berry, she had blue eyes, and her long black hair hung smoothly down her back, unlike other married women who always pinned it up.

Lumian answered calmly:

“I’m looking for Jean Morin.”

Sibille, whose cheeks were plump and features soft, replied indifferently:

“He’s not home.”

“Do you know where he went?” Lumian pressed.

Sibille said calmly:

“We argued last night. He may have left Kerdou Village and doesn’t plan to return for a while.”

Lumian’s brow twitched—he sensed something bad had happened.

Clearly, Jean Morin couldn’t leave Kerdou Village—that would trigger the cycle and cause a restart!

In an instant, Lumian put on a playful grin:

“Why did you argue? I heard it was about you and the parish priest…”

He didn’t speak—he made the gesture: left fist tapped against right palm.

Sibille’s expression turned icy. She hissed:

“Get out!”

“Get off my property!”

Lumian clicked his tongue and stepped away from Jean Morin’s house.

After walking a distance, his smile vanished instantly.

He didn’t actually care about asking about Sibille and the priest’s affair—he’d already seen the priest and Madame Pauris naked. What more was there to ask?

But not asking would break his image among villagers—he’d come to “visit.” If he didn’t provoke the mistress, was he still the prank king of Kerdou Village?

So Lumian had to ask—or risk suspicion.

Fixed character roles could be useful, but sometimes they brought trouble.

Combining the parish priest’s behavior with his own knowledge, Lumian suspected Jean Morin hadn’t gone mute because he caught the affair—he’d discovered something else.

He’d likely been poisoned into silence!

He had to find the man quickly. If he kept going around accusing people, he might die like the previous one—no, he was already missing… The more Lumian thought, the more certain he became that Jean Morin was in trouble.

The last villager who went to Dariel to report had mysteriously fallen to his death!

Just as Lumian made one final effort to find Jean Morin, he encountered Ryan, Lyra, and Valentine “strolling” through the village.

They still wore their original clothes.

“Good morning, my cabbages,” Lumian greeted with a smile.

As soon as they drew near, he whispered:

“Nothing happen yesterday?”

Lyra smiled back:

“That lady didn’t seem interested in pursuing it—she didn’t appear.”

As expected… Lumian glanced around, saw no one nearby, then told the three official investigators his sister’s theory about Madame Pauris’s path and his guess about Purity’s identity.

Valentine’s face darkened; Lyra looked excited.

Ryan recalled:

“Lesdon Province rarely sees witches. We lack intelligence on this, but headquarters should know. I’ll send a telegram right away—mention only that Madame Pauris’s room had a photo of Purity, and the Rochefort family has no one named Pauris.”

Seeing Lumian’s confused expression—“Why would headquarters know?”—Ryan added:

“In Intis, witch-related incidents happen often.”

So his sister’s “pen pal” was also in Intis? Lumian nodded and shifted topic:

“So far, Madame Pauris seems unrelated to the cycle—and she might even be aware of it. That’s probably why she didn’t pursue our castle search.”

“Could we, in some way, be working with her?”

Valentine blurted out immediately:

“How could we cooperate with someone as evil and filthy as a demon?”

Lumian didn’t even look at him—he turned his gaze to Ryan and Lyra.

Seeing their hesitation, he urged sincerely:

“Limited cooperation—only within the cycle.”

“Once we break this damn cycle, you can do whatever you want to her!”

“You can even tell her that directly—I’m sure she’ll understand and accept it.”

Ryan thought for a few seconds, patted Valentine’s shoulder, and said to Lumian:

“True, right now the priority is breaking the cycle. But we still can’t confirm her stance—we dare not approach her directly. You or your sister will have to make contact and ask.”

“Fine,” Lumian agreed immediately.

He planned to go himself.

After discovering Madame Pauris might have abnormal, twisted feelings toward his sister, he wouldn’t let her meet the woman alone.

Listening to their conversation, Valentine kept a stiff face—neither agreeing nor opposing.

Lumian scanned the area again:

"There are still three leads..."

He detailed everything about Raymond’s case, Jean Morin’s situation, and the owl that had flown into the "tomb chamber."

This left Lyra quite surprised:

"How did you get so many leads so quickly?"

She even began to suspect that this guy or his sister might be the source of the anomalies—why else would everything around them be full of clues?

Who’s the real professional investigator here? How did we miss all this?

"Who told you to keep none of the memories from the first two loops?" Lu Mi grinned and spread his hands.

Lyra nodded, accepting the explanation.

Ryan Cos considered for a few seconds, then said in a low voice:

"Then we must investigate beneath the church as soon as possible."

"Yes, it might be dangerous there—first, contact Madame Pualis. If she joins us, our chances will increase greatly."

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(End of Chapter)