Chapter 157 Small Theater After listening to Osta's explanation, Lumian thought with a little amusement: "What kind of weird rule is this?" Remembering things like walking the turtle, the interstellar bridge, visiting the catacombs with candles, and running with the crowd, he felt that it didn't seem like a big deal. Perhaps the citizens of Trier just like this unique experience. Looking at the dance hall where people were coming one after another and putting on monocles, Lumian asked casually: “What if the new guest didn’t know about that rule before?” Aosta pointed to the end of the old street: “There were shops selling monocles and short suits. "I suspect that the owner of the 'Different' dance hall opened it himself." No doubt about it... Lumian muttered. He even thought that Timmons set such rules for the "Different" dance hall just to make more money from selling short suits and monocles.
Of course, it is also aimed at the trend of Trier citizens pursuing new trends and fashion. "How many years has this place been open?" Lumian pointed with his chin at the "Different" dance hall across the street. "More than 20 years ago. It was already here when I first arrived in Trier. I heard it was opened when dance halls first became popular in Trier." Osta glanced in the direction of Purgatory Square. "Is there anything else? I have to go back underground." He was only thinking about making money and was afraid of missing out on people who came to him for divination and "help". Lumian tilted his head and stared at him intently. This made Osta's heart tense, as if he was being stared at by a ferocious beast. "What's wrong?" He subconsciously put on a smile again. Lumian looked away and said nonchalantly: "Be careful these two days." "What?" Osta looked confused, shocked and frightened. Charles isn't threatening me, is he? We just had a pleasant cooperation, and he even asked me to help him find materials! Lumian smiled: “Literally, but it has nothing to do with me. "By the way, help me collect some more information about the water monster. The more detailed the better. The reward is the same as before." Is he saying that I might be unlucky recently and get beaten up? Osta tried to interpret what Lumian really wanted to say. At the same time, he always felt that the style and tone of the other party's words just now were very familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had heard it. On the way back to Purgatory Square, Osta decided to do a divination for himself to see if he was really going to have bad luck. As a "secret prayer", his probability of successful divination and corresponding accuracy are much higher than those of ordinary people. At this moment, Osta suddenly woke up and figured out why he had felt a sense of familiarity before. Isn’t this the style and tone he usually uses when talking to those “customers”?
Opposite the ancient building, Lumian hesitated whether to buy a short suit and a monocle and sneak into the "Different" dance hall to observe the environment and collect more information. "But if Timmons really belongs to some mysterious organization and is friends with the Police Commissioner, it would not be a wise thing to kidnap him for a few tens of thousands of Felkins. It would affect my work, and then wouldn't the money for the short suit and monocle be wasted? They are not cheap." Lumian was never stingy when it came to spending money, after all, there were many "kind-hearted people" in Trier, but he was still quite frugal when it came to not spending money. While thinking, he looked around and found that there was an "Alone" bar diagonally opposite the "Different" dance hall. "There is a great degree of overlap between the customers of the dance hall and the bar. They should be competitors..." Suddenly, Lumian's thoughts became clear. The person who knows a person best is often his enemy, and the person who knows a dance hall best is most likely his competitor! Even though their statements are likely to be exaggerated, they can still reflect some facts to some extent. Lumian turned around and walked into the "Alone" bar. The buildings in the old street are quite old, most of them can be traced back to before the Roselle era. They have narrow windows and poor lighting even during the day, and dimness has become the main theme here. With the gas wall lamps not yet lit, Lumian walked through the dark hall where only a few guests were, came to the bar and sat down. "A glass of gin and ice." Lumian took off his baseball cap and said. The bar was at the innermost part of the pub, where the lighting was the worst. The tall and thin bartender seemed to be shrouded in darkness, with only his outline visible. With Lumian's eyesight, he could only barely see that the other person had slightly curly black hair, his eyes seemed to be more blue, and his nose was not high enough. While waiting for the gin, Lumian smiled casually: "Your business here isn't very good. I see that the 'Different' dance hall across the street has a lot of customers." The bartender pushed a glass of gin with a slice of lemon and a lot of ice in front of Lumian. He glanced at the door and said: “Our business is not bad, but most people are waiting in the cellar to see the theatre performances. "Well, do you want to go and have a look? Customers who have ordered drinks can go into the cellar for 5 ricks. Uh, your gin is 8 ricks." “A theatrical performance?” Lumian did not hide his surprise. This is an element that few bars on the street have. The bartender sighed and said: “People across the street can dance, sing, play cards and play billiards. We have to be different from them to attract customers. "A lot of bars and cafes on the North Shore now have little theatres." Lumian didn't know how to describe this behavior, so he could only sigh: “Is the competition in the bar business so fierce?” He then took out three 20-copek silver coins engraved with gear elements and a 5-copek bronze coin and handed them to the bartender. This amounted to 13 ricks, or 65 kopeks, and included the cost of tickets to the small theatre for the show. The bartender immediately pointed to the stairs leading down to the side of the bar: "You can always go down to the cellar and get your wine." No need for a ticket? Lumian didn't leave the bar in a hurry, and said with a smile: "That 'different' dance hall across the street seems pretty unique, huh?" "It's very unique." The bartender lowered his voice, "Have you been cheated by the people there? That's why you keep asking about them?"
"Yes." Lumian nodded calmly. He didn't even try to hide it. The bartender laughed: "People who have been cheated come here every day, but no one succeeds. I once saw Conde, the police commissioner of the Observatory District, enter the dance hall. He was also wearing a short suit and a monocle." Timmons is indeed not a simple person...Lumian gave up the idea of asking the owner of the "Different" dance hall for money. He left the bar, glass of gin in hand, and walked down the stairs to the cellar. Before he even got close to the wooden door below, Lumian heard the bartender shouting: "There's a guest coming!" With a creak, the wooden door opened. Lumian slowed down his pace and walked in while observing the environment. This place has been converted into a small theater, with a half-height wooden stage at the innermost part and two gas wall lamps above providing the most basic lighting. In places where light is dim or out of reach, stools and rows of chairs are placed in a sparse manner. At this time, there were more than twenty guests sitting here, watching the drama performance above. None of them spoke. It was so quiet that only the occasional sound of drinking could be heard, making the dark cellar seem almost dead silent. Lumian found a chair near the exit and sat down, turning his gaze towards the stage. The performers are not real people, but half-human-height puppets. Regardless of gender, they are all painted with yellow, white and red oil paint, with the corners of their mouths raised high, outlining an exaggerated smile. These puppets were controlled by strings so subtle that Lumian could hardly see them. They raised their hands, opened their mouths, turned around, or ran, performing different dramas. A deep male voice and a slightly shrill female voice came out from somewhere, alternating between speaking different lines. Under the yellowish light of the gas wall lamp and in the dimness spreading around, the clown puppets painted with oil paint looked quite eerie. Lumian instinctively didn't like this kind of environment. Not wanting to waste his ticket money, he watched for a while longer until the drama was over. During the entire process, there was no sound around. The faces of the customers were either reflected in the yellowish light or hidden in the darkness, and their concentration was beyond Lumian's imagination. Lumian took the last sip of gin and left the small theater, which was lit only by two gas wall lamps. ………… On the way back to the Honest Man Market, Lumian sat by the window in the public carriage, looking at the shops and people on the street that kept receding, and thought about what he was going to do next: "First, I have to find a way to get the meat of the water monster, gather all the materials, and complete the preparations for the 'prophecy technique'. Second, I have to do something to improve my status in the Sava Party and strive to become the real leader as soon as possible... What should I do..." As his thoughts raced through his mind, Lumian's eyes suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure. That was Wilson, the man wearing a white shirt, a black jacket, with a fat face and slightly curly brown hair, Wilson of the Sting Gang. Wilson was walking across the market avenue with two thugs and entering a side alley with steady steps and normal posture. “I threw him into that state, and now he’s okay?” Lumian was stunned.
You know, he fell from the fourth floor! What kind of recovery ability is this? Even cockroaches can't compare to him! Lumian quickly made a guess: “The Sting Gang has extraordinary healing abilities? "The 'Physician' of the 'Tillman' path?" Having speculated to this point, Lumian suddenly remembered something: In his dream, Mrs. Pualis had the ability to heal other people's injuries instantly! Although this may be an exaggeration or distortion of dreams, the abnormal path that Mrs. Pualis corresponds to does include the realm of life. The man who looked like Louis Lund had also appeared on Market Avenue before... Was the power behind the Sting Gang related to the evil god that Madam Pualis believed in? As he pondered, the corners of Lumian's mouth curled up a little bit. (End of this chapter)