249 Loophole in the Contract

Observing Bono Goodville’s reaction, Angoulême’s confidence grew a little.

With a swift motion, he withdrew a pen and paper, preparing to draft a Notary Certificate. The concept behind it was for Bono Goodville to swear an oath to a deity, ensuring his honesty during the subsequent questioning.

As Angoulême affixed his signature, the paper emitted a radiant golden glow.

Bono Goodville swallowed nervously, feeling the weight of the situation.

In recent years, as a well-known factory owner in Trier, he had encountered mystic knowledge and extraordinary powers that surpassed the imagination of ordinary folk. Such matters were not unfamiliar to him. It was akin to one of the three abductors blasting him with a flaming raven, another conjuring black flames, and a third leaping from the third floor.

“Sign your name,” Angoulême instructed, handing Bono Goodville the Notary Certificate, now devoid of its golden glow.

“Very well.” Bono Goodville’s right hand trembled as he inscribed his name upon the pledge.

With each stroke, a flash of golden light emanated from his penmanship.

Once he finished, Angoulême spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

“Which deity do you believe in?”

“The God of Steam and Machinery.” For Bono Goodville, this question held no challenge.

Angoulême proceeded to the next inquiry.

“Why did you visit the member of parliament’s office on the morning of the chemical plant explosion?”

Bono Goodville hesitated for two seconds. Fearful of supernatural powers and divine witnesses, he repeated what he had divulged to Lumian and the others under the influence of the remaining truth serum.

Angoulême, Valentine, and Imre took turns posing questions, allowing Bono Goodville to reconstruct his conversation with the Member of Parliament’s secretary, Rhône, and his assistant secretary, Tybalt, as accurately as possible.

When the inquiry concluded, Angoulême delivered the verdict to Bono Goodville.

“You shall be arrested for arson, deliberate detonation of an explosion, and murder. Your assets will be temporarily frozen pending compensation for the deceased and injured.”

Bono Goodville’s face drained of color as he slumped into the recliner, utterly depleted.

Valentine took a couple of steps towards the door, casting a glance at the corridor beyond. Lowering his voice, he proposed, “Deacon, after we bring this blasphemous scoundrel to the police headquarters, shall we formally apprehend Hugues Artois’s secretary, Rhône?”

Angoulême sighed, shaking his head slowly.

“Not yet.

“Did you not notice? Rhône and the late Tybalt were exceedingly cautious. They never explicitly suggested that Bono Goodville instigated the explosion at his chemical plant. They merely insinuated their support for the member of parliament’s policies and preached a philosophy of decay. They might exploit Bono Goodville’s blinded mind, misconstruing their words to justify his actions.

“It has been nearly two days, and finding any traces of Bono Goodville being influenced by superpowers is proving challenging.

“Put simply, we lack sufficient evidence to apprehend Secretary Rhône and employ Beyonder powers in the interrogation. We can only summon and question him through conventional means.”

Valentine seethed with anger, but he realized there was nothing he could do.

He harbored an unwavering certainty that something was awry with the member of parliament’s secretary, yet due to regulations, he couldn’t employ mystical methods to confront him.

After a brief pause, he glanced at Bono Goodville, sprawled on the recliner like a heap of decaying meat, and spoke with a deep voice, “I suggest we deliver him to the stake!”

Angoulême nodded, addressing Valentine and Imre, “Let us proceed. Take this man back to the market district, where he deserves to meet his end in ten different manners.”

Valentine was taken aback.

“Deacon, aren’t we going to track down the three Beyonders who infiltrated this place?”

Angoulême chuckled. “Why should we?”

Valentine gazed at him, perplexed by his deacon’s approach.

Imre, accustomed to his ways, whispered, “The three Beyonders infiltrated this place without pillaging or harming anyone. They merely sought information about the chemical plant explosion and the visit to the member of parliament’s office. It’s evident they possess a genuine interest in Secretary Rhône and Member of Parliament Hugues Artois.”

“I even wonder if they’re from the Aurora Order, and one of them is the one who killed Assistant Secretary Tybalt.”

Angoulême chuckled and added, “Since we are barred from thoroughly investigating the member of parliament’s office due to contracts and regulations, why not allow untamed Beyonders, equally keen on prying and employing violence, to squeeze out the pus and expose it to the sunlight?”

“Wouldn’t that pose a problem?” Valentine blurted out.

Amused, Angoulême responded, “Of course not. When dealing with cunning individuals adept at exploiting regulations, we must be even more cunning and find loopholes. If need be, we can even collaborate with secret organizations and unite with wild Beyonders.

“The contracts we hold with members of parliament and high-ranking officials only limit certain actions; they don’t prohibit us from harboring ill intentions or cultivating informants among untamed Beyonders. Such contracts don’t constrain the actions of untamed Beyonders.

“Likewise, these contracts mainly serve as restrictions. They don’t compel us to take certain actions. Sometimes, we can observe events unfold without transgressing the contract while handling things in the usual manner.

“Valentine, even beneath the sun, shadows abound. Consider everyone’s shadows, for instance. You must learn to coexist with them. At times, you must eliminate them, and at others, utilize them to extol the Sun!”

Valentine recalled his collaboration with Lumian in Cordu and reluctantly embraced the deacon’s words. He extended his arms and replied, “Praise the Sun!”

Angoulême added, “I did not craft these words. Ever since Emperor Roselle’s demise, the two Churches, parliament, the government, the military, and Bureau 8 have been embroiled in conflicts. Each has amassed considerable combat experience that would not be deemed aboveboard in any other context.

“Hence, why do you think I silently permit the presence of wild Beyonders amidst the mobs of the market district? Based solely on the reassurances and rhetoric of the superintendents? No, I merely believe they may prove useful at some point.

“Of course, it is everyone’s responsibility to tolerate the convergence of heretics into a large mob. I am no exception. There are advantages and disadvantages to everything.”

Valentine contemplated in silence, refraining from further inquiries.

Similar tensions were apparent in Riston Province, although they paled in comparison to those in Trier. After all, this was the heartland of the nation.

…

During their journey from Underground Trier to the market district, Lumian, having removed his bandages, cast a glance at the silent Jenna and casually remarked, “I thought you’d dispatch Bono Goodville on the spot, subjecting him to unforgettable torment even if he became a ghost. Who would’ve guessed you’d merely stab him in the shoulder?”

Jenna pursed her lips and took a few steps ahead before responding in a hushed voice, “If he dies now, the legal process for accident compensation will drag on for years. It might even be symbolic…”

Though she no longer cared, many people still awaited justice.

Franca subtly nodded and added, “Fear not. Bono Goodville will undoubtedly face the death penalty. The only question is the means. Besides, we have left clues for the official Beyonders. Just as we shield Hugues Artois, we shall always assist in eliminating hidden dangers.”

Jenna offered a sad smile.

“That’s the member of parliament we elected. His secretary and assistant secretary greeted us with an enormous explosion intentionally.”

“Are you afraid?” Lumian mockingly inquired.

Jenna fell silent, momentarily at a loss for words.

Lumian pressed on, “I have never relished the benefits of Intis, nor have I cast a vote. Should I encounter a similar situation, I would not spare the member of parliament’s secretary or even the president who governs this country!

“My sister once said that blood alone can repay blood. I care not for the identity of the bleeding individual.”

Jenna’s expression contorted once more, and she spoke with a tinge of anguish, “My mother always taught me to be kind and embrace forgiveness. I cannot allow suffering and hatred to dictate my life. That way, I shall never see the light…”

Without waiting for Lumian and Franca to respond, she lowered her head and gritted her teeth.

“But I despise it so much!”

Lumian pursed his lips and stated, “If you eliminate all your enemies, your life shall not be governed by hatred.”

Jenna fell silent for a few seconds before giving a terse nod.

“At the very least, at the very least, I shall not let Secretary Rhône off the hook!

Franca promptly commended her, “Very good. Maintain this resolve.”

She then emphasized, “Of course, revenge cannot be blind or impulsive. You must wait until you are strong enough and seize the opportune moment to act. Otherwise, you shall only bring more harm to your family and friends. Furthermore, you will have to witness your enemy living a good life.”

“Alright,” Jenna softly replied, nodding.

…

Late at night, Jenna, clad in her usual attire, returned to her home at 17 Rue Pasteur in Quartier du Jardin Botanique, her emotions in disarray.

This place was situated near Rue Saint-Hilaire in the market district and the multitude of factories south of Quartier du Jardin Botanique. Previously, Jenna’s family had opted to rent this place for the convenience of Elodie and Julien’s work.

Upon opening the door, Jenna was greeted by the sight of her brother, Julien, crouched by the window, his head buried in his hands.

Her heart sank, and her voice quivered as she inquired, “Julien, what’s the matter?”

Illuminated by the crimson moonlight, Julien leaned against the old wooden table, wearing an expression of terror.

“Don’t fire me! Don’t fire me!

“My mother passed away. She really passed away. That’s why I didn’t come to the factory this afternoon…

“Don’t fire me! Don’t fire me!

“Mom, Mom, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone in the ward!

“It’s all on me, entirely!

“Sob!”

Julien broke into tears, resembling a frightened child.

It seemed as though he had lost his sanity.

Jenna stood in the darkness at the doorway, gazing blankly at her brother. It felt as though she was slowly descending into an unfathomable abyss.

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