The next day at noon.
2nd arrondissement, rue Saint-Michel.
After Lumian arrived here, he found that it was only a few hundred meters away from Rue Saint-Varo, where the "Dream Seeker" charity organization was located, just a block and a square.
"As expected of an art district...... Lumian raised his eyebrows, feeling that he was slowly approaching the truth and discovering the answer.
He retracted his gaze from the Sun Obelisk in the center of the square and walked along Rue Saint-Michel, which is clearly old and obsolete in the complex.
At a glance, he could see at a glance the edges of the square and on both sides of the street were many poor painters with drawing boards for people to sketch, as well as music lovers playing different pieces with six-stringed pianos, violins, flutes, etc., and sometimes the white homing pigeons flying up were accompanied by fountains with rhythmic undulations.
The warm autumn sun shines here, bringing a certain poetic beauty.
Lumian has been in the market area for a long time, and when he goes to other places in Trier, he either takes revenge, investigates, or participates in banquets, and rarely experiences this kind of daily life in the core area of Trier.
He didn't become lazy by the sun and the surrounding environment, he wore a brown round hat, a light blue shirt and a casual brown and yellow formal suit, and turned into a bar called "Third-rate Writer".
Most of the customers here are dressed in old clothes, drinking inexpensive alcoholic beverages, talking about various things, and occasionally when they are inspired, they will take out a notebook that they have flipped through countless times and record it with their pen brush.
As Lumian walked towards the bar, he heard several drinkers discussing a recent art exhibition:
"The work called "Cafe" is very controversial, some people praise it for its bright colors, bold composition, and absurd forms to express silent protest, while others think it is a deliberate use of an abstract concept to fool the public's IQ.
"I think it's interesting that the writer's idea is very fully displayed in the overlapping color blocks, you think, isn't that the case in many cafes? Noisy and lively, life from different places is stacked on top of each other, polluting each other, like mud......
"I would like to call it a landmark masterpiece of the abstract school!
"Are you trying to say that the abstract school has never been recognized or sold a painting?"
"Cafe"...... Isn't this the work that Maren drew with his ass? Does anyone really appreciate it? Will this become the most famous and valuable work in his life? Lumian quietly pursed his mouth and sighed sincerely in his heart:
"You Trierians......"
After arriving at the bar, Lumian spent 8 ricks to ask for a glass of absinthe and raised his voice:
"Everyone, I have a question, if anyone answers me, this glass of wine is his!"
After everyone fell silent and turned their eyes to him, Lumian continued to shout:
"I want to know where the playwright Gabriel lives.
"I want to ask him to write a script."
On Rue Saint-Michel, even if you just bump into someone on the road, it is likely to be a writer or painter, not to mention this bar that is famous for literary discussions and artistic creation exchanges.
And Gabriel can't help but have gathered with his peers, and may even hold a private banquet in the apartment he rented, after all, "Light Chaser" can be regarded as a successful stage and quite popular, which will bring him enough benefits.
"Gabriel hasn't shown up for a few days, saying that he wants to lock himself up and finish writing a story at hand." A middle-aged man not far from the bar answered Lumian's question with a smile, "He shouldn't accept your commission, he's too busy, he has too many scripts to write, how about it, should you consider other playwrights? There are several equally talented young people here."
It hadn't been a few days...... Lumian frowned slightly, and then relaxed:
"How do you know if you don't give it a try? I have enough sincerity."
"Okay." The middle-aged man in an old dress coat muttered, "I hope you don't be disappointed."
He led Lumian to 34 rue Saint-Michel, up the stairs to the fifth floor, which was very close to the attic.
Both the exterior walls and stairs here are quite old, and some parts still have decorative patterns that were popular decades ago, but compared to the Golden Rooster Inn, it is clean and spacious enough.
"Gabriel lives here." The middle-aged man with two mustaches raised his hand and patted the brown wooden door of room 503.
The bang sound echoed, and no one responded.
"Maybe he went out looking for food, or maybe he finished the creation and went to the theater manager who entrusted him." The middle-aged man smiled and said, "Do you want to go back to the bar and have another drink? I am also an experienced writer, although I have never written a script, but my novels sell well in the underground market."
"What have you written?" Lumian glanced at the closed brown wooden door, not acting too eager.
The middle-aged man sighed and said:
""The Monk Chasing the Dog" and its sequel "The Dog Chasing the Monk", these were both written by me, but they were not signed by my name, which would lead to my arrest by the spy, and secondly, my boss would not allow it."
"Is there a sequel?" Lumian hadn't visited the underground bookmarket and the forbidden bookstore for a while, and the last time he went was to buy "The Secret Records of Roselle the Great".
When he looked at this middle-aged man who was a little obscene and a little greasy, his gaze changed to a certain extent,
This is one of his enlighteners!
"It came out last month." The middle-aged man nodded slightly, "These two novels have helped my boss make a lot of money, but I don't even get a tenth, no, not even a hundredth!"
"Boss?" Lumian asked.
He remembered that the core member of "April Fool's Day", the Bard, had written "The Secret Records of Roselle the Great", and planned to take the opportunity to understand the situation in this industry and make some preparations for follow-up follow-up.
The middle-aged man sighed again:
"We don't have the right to authorship, it's just the boss's writing tool, he pays us a fixed but small remuneration, puts forward the direction and requirements of writing, and finally sells it through his own channels.
"On Rue Saint-Michel, there are many, many third-rate writers like me who don't even have a pseudonym, just like the workers on the assembly line."
"What do you call it?" Lumian asked respectfully.
"Rabe." The middle-aged man looked at Lumian, his eyes full of anticipation.
Lumian asked some more questions related to underground literature, and finally said:
"If I don't end up negotiating with Gabriel, I can consider giving you a chance."
"As long as the boss doesn't have any new tasks, I'm in the 'third-rate writer' bar every day!" Rabe's joy was palpable.
Looking at the underground writer, after countless Intis teenagers descended the stairs, Lumian took out a piece of wire from his pocket and opened Gabriel's door.
It is much more spacious than the playwright's room in the Golden Rooster Hotel, with a bathroom and a small bedroom, and the outside is both a living room, a study, a dining room and a kitchen, and the coal stove for cooking is piled up in the corner.
Lumian quickly swept around and saw a messy stack of paper that looked like a manuscript on the desk by the window.
He closed the wooden door with his backhand and walked there.
"It's Gabriel's handwriting, Rabe didn't lie to me, this is indeed where Gabriel lives......" Lumian took the stack of paper and flipped through it casually.
He turned into the bedroom and found a pair of black overalls next to the bed, becoming more and more sure that he hadn't found the wrong room.
This is a pair of pants that Gabriel used to wear a lot.
But the playwright has gone now.
Thinking of Rabe saying that Gabriel hadn't shown up for several days, Lumian suddenly became wary.
He carefully examined every item here, like a hunter distinguishing the traces of his prey.
After a few minutes, Lumian picked up the white-glazed porcelain monoaural water cup on the desk and found that there was still a third of cold water in it, and there was a lot of dust floating on the surface that was difficult for normal people to see clearly.
"At least one day." Lumi felt relieved.
What will happen to Gabriel?
Wouldn't it be too famous to be "talked" by government spies, or attracted kidnappers chasing money?
Lumian put the white-glazed porcelain water cup next to the manuscript and searched the room carefully, but found no traces worth paying attention to.
Finally, he returned to his desk and picked up the stack of manuscripts, wanting to see what Gabriel had written before his disappearance.
The synopsis of this script is that a down-and-out writer meets a woman who is forced to join a gang, and the two comfort each other in despair, pain, suffering, and bad daily life, encourage each other, and warm each other's hearts with their bodies.
The story is not finished yet, it stays in the part where the lover does not know where to go, and stays on the writer's inner monologue:
"She is coming;
"My lover came from the night.
"She is gone;
"My lover went to a distant hostel......"
Seeing the word hostel, Lumian's forehead jumped suddenly.
Although in the script, this is a normal word, not abrupt at all, but Lumian, who has been talking about it every day recently, is still inevitably shocked and has some associations.
Suddenly, he took his eyes off the manuscript and turned to the desk.
The white-glazed porcelain single-eared water cup he moved to next to the manuscript had returned to its original position at some point!
Lumian's eyes froze, and the skin and muscles under his clothes instantly tightened.
As a "hunter", he will not forget any changes he has made to the environment, which is the basis of the trap!
A creature that is difficult to see with the naked eye, its existence can only be confirmed by some traces? Lumian said to himself silently, quickly remembering the official information relayed by Jane.
He suddenly reached into his pocket, made a slight choice, and took out a pair of glasses.
Those are brown gold-rimmed glasses, those are "secret glasses"!
ps: The second one is asking for a guaranteed monthly pass~
(End of this chapter)