Messy street, "Golden Rooster Hotel", room 207.
Lumian threw the crumpled newspaper in his hand on the table and sat down on the edge of the bed.
After sitting for a few seconds, he simply lay down, feeling exhausted from the depths of his body and unable to support it anymore.
Only the physical and mental state is reset every day, excluding the mind.
He didn't even bother to take off his clothes, he just kicked off his leather shoes and closed his eyes.
During this sleep, Lumian slept very deeply and did not have any dreams.
He was awakened by the smell of sulfur, and the sunset was still shining outside the window.
Looking sideways at the glass window dyed with a hint of golden luster, Lumian whispered self-deprecatingly:
"Have you slept for a day and a night?"
Obviously, this is impossible, because every morning at six o'clock he will automatically wake up.
After seeing the obituary and venting his inner grief uncontrollably, Lumian felt that his mood had stabilized a lot, but he was still a little depressed.
Of course, he himself knew that sadness would not disappear, pain would not disappear, and it would not take long for them to make a comeback.
As for a little bit of extreme, crazy and self-destructive tendencies, he felt inevitable, as long as it wasn't serious.
"I have to do regular psychotherapy in the future, otherwise I will go completely crazy before I complete my revenge and find a way to revive Aurore." Lumian sighed and turned over and got out of bed.
He once again picked up the crumpled "Novel Weekly" and looked at the obituary on the front page, wanting to completely awaken the familiar pain in his heart.
Just then, Lumian discovered a problem.
This newspaper is from last week.
The newsboy sells him expired newspapers!
"Impossible, it is impossible for a newsboy to keep a newspaper that he can't sell......" Lumian frowned, feeling that this matter was indescribably strange and coincidental.
He thought about it carefully and remembered a sentence that "psychiatrist" Ms. Susie said:
"Many times, it is not a good thing to completely suppress pain and despair in the heart, human beings need to vent and decompress......"
Suddenly, Lumian had a realization:
This is part of psychotherapy!
"Ms. Susie first pointed out that I was in a bad state of mind and had a strong tendency to self-destruct, then gave me a preliminary enlightenment with the hope of resurrecting Auror, and finally, while I was indulging in the pain caused by this problem, she arranged for the newsboy to send me the obituary published last week, which shattered my defenses with bloody facts and allowed me to vent the pain and despair that had been pent-up in my heart...... Lumian muttered to himself.
After figuring it out, he was quite fortunate that he had met a very professional and capable "psychiatrist", otherwise it would be difficult for him to struggle out of the previous mental quagmire.
Lumian's eyes moved casually and he saw several bed bugs burrowing into his room.
His sense of smell told him that sulfur had been lit in the next room to drive away bed bugs, but most of the insects were afraid of him here and moved to another place.
Thinking that on the first day he and his neighbor lived together, he and his neighbor "hurt" each other and tried to use sulfur to get bed bugs into each other's rooms, Lumian couldn't help but laugh.
He put on his leather shoes, walked out of the door, and came outside 206.
——On the second floor of the Golden Rooster Hotel, the alley behind the chaotic street is a washroom connecting rooms 201 to 204, opposite 204 is another washroom, and then in the opposite direction 205 to 208, there is a relatively large balcony on both sides of the corridor, so except for the second floor, the third, fourth, and fifth floors are all 10 rooms plus two washrooms.
Dong dong dong, Lumian curled his fingers and knocked on the door of 206.
"Who?" A slightly panicked voice came from inside.
"Next door 207." Lumian responded with a smile, "I want to get to know my neighbors."
After a few seconds, the door creaked open, and what appeared in front of Lumian was a thin young man.
He was less than 1.7 meters tall, wearing a washed white linen shirt and black suspender trousers, with larger black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, brown hair messy and greasy, as if he hadn't washed it for several days, and his dark brown eyes revealed an unconcealable defense.
"Is there something wrong with you?" The man asked.
Lumian smiled and stretched out his right hand:
"I should have lived here for a long time and wanted to get to know the neighbors around me.
"What do you call it?"
The young man hesitated for a moment, but still stretched out his right palm and shook Lumian:
"Gabriel, what about you?"
"Charles." Lumian glanced inside Room 206 and pretended to be curious and asked, "Why do you light sulfur now? It's evening, I have to go out to find something to eat."
Gabriel pushed down his glasses and smiled bitterly:
"I'm a playwright and I'm planning to work all night."
"Writer?" Lumian raised his hand and touched his chin.
He gave up the idea of giving each other a little prank to resolve the strangeness between neighbors.
Gabriel emphasized:
"A playwright, a writer who specializes in writing drama scripts for various theaters."
"Sounds great." Lumian sincerely praised, "I admire people who can write stories very much, and my idol is a writer."
Seeing the other party's sincere eyes, Gabriel was a little embarrassed to be praised.
He scratched his brown hair that was already messy, sighed and said:
"This line of work is not as good as you think, I spent a lot of energy on my last script, and I think it is not much worse than those classic plays, but no theater manager is willing to take a look.
"I can only accept some tabloid requests and write some vulgar and vulgar stories, only in this way can I have money to pay the rent and not starve myself to death, hehe, what I want to rush now is that kind of manuscript, what the editor needs is just how to get the female characters to bed, not anything else, the readers of their newspapers love to read this ......"
Perhaps it was the trauma that touched his heart, Gabriel had a desire to share, and crackled a lot.
Lumian listened carefully and said sincerely:
"I have read many biographies or interviews of writers, most of whom have had the experience of not being appreciated and living in cheap hotels or small lofts, and I believe that one day you will find someone willing to read your scripts and eventually become a famous playwright."
Gabriel took off his glasses and rubbed his face:
"For so long, you are the second person willing to encourage me, and others will only laugh at me for liking fantasy and unwilling to face reality."
If you hadn't had a close profession to Aurore, I would have laughed at you like this, and even more so than they did...... Lumian scolded and asked curiously:
"Who was the first person to encourage you?"
"It's Miss Saffari who lives in room 309." Gabriel looked up at the ceiling, "She's a mannequin, I haven't seen her for several days, she may have moved away."
The mannequin mentioned by the Ruhls? Lumian nodded and sent out an invitation:
"Would you like to go to the bar for a drink?"
Gabriel was very moved, but in the end he controlled himself:
"Next time, I'll be submitting the manuscript tomorrow."
"Okay." Lumian waved his hand and walked back to his room.
After looking at the noisy and lively street scene from the window, Lumian decided to find a restaurant, have a good meal, and taste Trier's food.
At this moment, he heard a sharp female voice upstairs:
"You bastard! You breeding pig!
"Your mother and the devil gave birth to you......"
The curse stopped abruptly, as if it had been forcibly interrupted.
Lumi moved with peace of mind and opened the window.
"You like women so much, why don't you go to your mother?
「……」
This time, Lumian clearly heard the voice coming from the 4th floor.
The Miss Ethans who was forced to be an illegal prostitute? Lumian remembered Charlie's story.
This also means that the leader of the Stinger Gang, Magot, took his men to collect the money.
– In the Republic of Intis, prostitutes are divided into two types, one is officially registered, in places such as Rue de la Walker, Breda Street, etc., and the other is illegal, without paying taxes, and will be beaten, ten or even twenty times more than the former.
After a slight hesitation, Lumian put on her dark formal attire and came to between 202 and 203, where there was a staircase leading to the upper floor.
He immediately took out the bottle of inferior perfume he had bought at Bigor, intending to pour some on the wooden steps for Margot and his men to step on as they passed.
——The next attack of the ghost of Monsuri does not know when it will come, and Lumian hopes to find the prey as soon as possible and complete the exchange of fate.
After a few seconds of contemplation, he abandoned the idea of directly pouring the perfume, intending to make things look like an accident in order to circumvent possible extraordinary ability probing.
Lumian unscrewed the lid slightly, pretending to slip his palm, and failed to grasp the thick glass bottle.
With a bang, the perfume bottle fell to the bottom step, and some liquid naturally flowed out, and the rich and almost pungent fragrance dissipated.
Lumian squatted down "distressed", picked up the bottle, and recapped it.
He wiped the perfume with his palm again, and kept wiping it on himself.
Soon, most of the liquid dried up, and the evening breeze pouring into the balcony dispersed the rich smell.
Lumian then returned to room 207, leaning against the door frame, hiding his figure, and looking towards the staircase.
After more than ten minutes, there were footsteps upstairs going down layer by layer.
At this time, the smell of perfume in the corridor had faded a lot.
Soon, four men appeared there, and the leader was a tall and thin man.
His yellow hair was shaved short, each one stood up, with a single eyelid, blue eyes, a high nose bridge, thin lips, and a few faint scars on his face.
The man, who was suspected of being Magott, wore a red shirt and dark pikan shoulders, with his hands in his sail-colored trousers, and walked down step by step.
He had a bulge on his left waist, and his feet were wearing strapless leather boots.
Suddenly, the man frowned, leaped lightly, and jumped over the two steps stained with perfume and part of the corridor on the second floor.
The three thugs who followed him disguised themselves as thugs did not notice anything unusual and stepped on the remnants of perfume traces.
Lumian, who had spy on this scene, chuckled in his heart:
"Magot is very sensitive to smells and is very resistant to getting himself infected with abnormal smells?"
ps: Ask for a double monthly pass~
(End of this chapter)