Circle of Inevitability Chapter 361 - 361 Farewell

361 Farewell

Recently, those who frequented the basement bar had grown indifferent to Charlies lectures on respectability and civility. Now, with a chance to tease him, they became exceptionally excited and engaged in a shouting match.

Dressed in a white shirt and an unbuttoned black vest, Charlie hesitated between buying drinks for nearly 30 people or performing a striptease.

Swiftly, he set down his beer and leaped onto a small round table.

In the past, when he was drunk here, he had done all sorts of foolish things. Why should he be afraid of a striptease?

Lumian smiled and applauded, taking out a 20 verl dor banknote and placing it on the bar counter. He said to Boss Pavard Neeson, A drink for everyone. Let them have whatever they want.

With that, he picked up his glass of Lanti Proof and watched as Charlie clumsily gyrated his hips and carefully unbuttoned his shirt amidst the cheers.

More passion! More energy! Lumian shouted, as if he were watching a show.

The other patrons chimed in.

Sweat beaded on Charlies forehead, fearing that excessive energy from removing his clothes might damage his shirt.

This wasnt a cheap old linen shirt!

After some thought, he decided to take it off as one would a sweater since the top buttons on his shirt were already undone.

Lumian took another sip of the Lanti Proof and leaned back at the bar counter. He glanced at Gabriel, who was wearing black-framed glasses and dark suspenders, and asked with amusement, Youre early today?

Hadnt this playwright, accustomed to staying up late, only come here for a drink after midnight?

Gabriel held the green absinthe and smiled calmly.

Im moving out tomorrow.

Lightseeker has begun airing? Lumian immediately had a guess.

Gabriel ruffled his disheveled brown hair and smiled.

Not yet, but after rehearsing for a while, both Monsieur Lopp and the directors and actors at Theatre de la Renaissance think highly of me. Theyre very confident. I wont have to worry about my living expenses even after moving to a more expensive place and spending the 1,000 verl dor advance. As you know, I dont write trite stories for tabloids anymore.

Where are you planning to move to? Lumian asked casually.

Gabriel said with a yearning expression, Rue Saint-Michel in Quartier 2, where many authors and painters find their haven. Not far away is the National Museum, the Trier Art Center, various galleries, and sculptures of various forms.

Quartier 2, also known as the arts district or financial district, was a blend of ancient charm and modern opulence, housing not only the artistic community but also the financial heart of the city. It was home to major banks like the Intis Central Bank and the Trier Bank, along with financial institutions, the Trier Stock Exchange, and the Intis Futures Market.

Rue Saint-Michel, on the outskirts of this vibrant district, offered affordable rent, making it an attractive choice for artists and writers.

Lumian couldnt resist recalling Aurores teasing about Rue Saint-Michel, and he playfully paraphrased it, poking fun at the struggling poets. What a fantastic place! You might toss a brick and hit three authors and two painters, and lets not forget those poets who die without anyone noticing.

Gabriel, slightly embarrassed, took a sip of his absinthe.

However, thats indeed the most suitable place for artistic exchange and creativity. Its not like here, where its relatively quiet only at night, but its only relative. And the repulsive bedbugs...

Gabriel suddenly remembered that the violent and elegant mob leader beside him was the current boss of Auberge du Coq Dore. He quickly shut his mouth.

At that moment, Charlie completed his striptease act and donned his shirt once more. He skillfully navigated his way out of the crowd of patrons, who had maliciously remarked on his physique, and settled beside Lumian. He casually remarked, Ive been swamped lately. Havent been around for a few days. As soon as I get home, I feel like collapsing into bed. You see, this is the drawback of being a decent bloke. Sigh, why in the world are they suddenly launching such a massive investigation into those wanted criminals from Cordu?

Oh, youve become much smarter. Lumian, who was keen on improving his rhetoric, replied with a smile, What concern is Cordus business to me, Ciel Dubois?

Having contracted the Niese Face from the Human-Faced Mantis, he wasnt particularly concerned about being recognized by the authorities.

Seeing Lumians self-assured demeanor, Charlie dropped the subject. He eagerly mentioned that a colleague had introduced him to a female teacher. Although she wasnt interested in him romantically, it marked another stride towards his quest for true dignity.

They continued to enjoy their drinks until nearly midnight. Lumian and Gabriel, who was set to move the following day, bid Charlie farewell and ascended the stairs to the second floor.

Gabriels gaze fixated on the corridor wall, illuminated solely by a gas wall lamp and adorned with newspapers and faded pink paper. Suddenly, he let out a heartfelt sigh.

Its only when Im on the verge of leaving that I realize theres something worth reminiscing about here.

When I first moved in, I thought it wouldnt be long before Id escape this dumpwell, this wretched motelwith my talents. Who wouldve guessed Id end up staying here for ten whole months? Even if I move to Rue Saint-Michel, Ill often think of that cozy little bar downstairs. Ill reminisce about the absinthe that could both sober me up and make me intoxicated, the pungent smell of sulfur, those pesky bedbugs, and the people who brought light to my darkness. Miss Seraphine, Charlie, and... you.

As Gabriel spoke, he paused, extending his hand to touch the crack in the wall where a fallen newspaper had revealed it.

Lumian couldnt resist a playful jab, Do you authors enjoy launching into spontaneous soliloquies and lengthy speeches?

Gabriel chuckled sheepishly and replied, I dont know about other authors, but I do find myself doing it occasionally.

Ive called this place home for nearly a year, and Ive witnessed numerous tenants abruptly vanish, leave in haste, or succumb to the pain of life. Yet, the very next day, or maybe just an hour later, new tenants move into the very rooms left behind by those chasing prosperity and dreams in Trier. Most of them fail and fade away like dust, but waves of people keep coming. Perhaps one or two among them will actually succeed.

This is the wellspring of inspiration for the Lightseeker script.

Youre the one who succeeded. Lumian couldnt help but recall Madame Michel, who had tragically ended her life while singing In the Capital of Joy, forever Trier, a memory that left him with no capacity for mocking Gabriel.

Hope. Gabriels face lit up with anticipation.

He took another step toward the second floor, as if driven to continue ascending.

Where are you going? Lumian could guess the answer, yet he asked politely.

Gabriel motioned upstairs.

To bid farewell to Miss Seraphine and express my gratitude for her unwavering support.

Lumian couldnt resist a sly smile, pursing his lips and letting out a playful whistle. Have a romantic night!

I am not! Gabriel instinctively protested.

Lumian turned and headed towards Room 207, waving his hand dismissively.

Cant a person have a romantic night all to themselves?

Gabriel was speechless.

After witnessing Ciels entrance into the room, Gabriel cleared his throat and continued his ascent to the third floor.

As he climbed, memories flooded his mindthe initial encounter with the human model, Seraphine, their first conversation about his creation, and the first words of encouragement...

He understood that human modeling was a meagerly compensated profession. Even the most popular male models barely received 80 to 90 verl dor a month. Ordinary models scraped by on 60 to 70, equivalent to the earnings of an apprentice motel attendant. Female models fared even worse, with a meager 40 verl dor, forcing them to take on part-time work. No one chose to expose their bodies as artists models out of laziness or greed for pleasure.

Seraphine was no exception. She endured the criticism to earn more money and improve her circumstances.

Gabriel halted outside Room 309 and rapped gently on the door.

Please come in. Seraphines somewhat hollow voice responded.

Gabriel pushed the door open and found Seraphine standing by the wooden table near the window. Her lake-blue dress had slipped from her form and lay in a heap on the floor.

In the crimson moonlight, Seraphines brown eyes flickered, and her brown hair cascaded down her back. Her fair body bore the imprint of human faces.

Some were stunning, some sinister, some handsome, and some wicked. They all fixed their gaze on Gabriel simultaneously.

Gabriel nearly let out a startled cry.

Whats the matter? Seraphines voice, tinged with detachment, rang out once more.

Gabriel shook off his stupor and realized that the faces were nothing more than lifelike oil paintings. The canvas was Seraphines body.

Remembering that she was a human model, Gabriel refrained from probing further. He exhaled and expressed, Im moving out tomorrow. Thank you for your encouragement these past few months.

As soon as he finished speaking, Seraphine extended her right hand, her eyes distant.

Gabriel couldnt resist complying.

Half an hour later, Gabriel lay on the bed, holding Seraphine close, and spoke with sincerity, Come with me to Rue Saint-Michel.

Seraphine shook her head resolutely. Im moving as well. Somewhere else.

Gabriel persisted, Where to?

To a place called the Hostel. My friends are there. Seraphines voice turned hollow once more.

Gabriel made several attempts to convince her, but the human model remained steadfast.

He had no choice but to leave disheartened. Seraphine rose from the bed, entirely unclothed, and watched him as he walked towards the door.

In that instant, the crimson moon was veiled, plunging the room into an unnatural darkness. The oil-painted faces on Seraphines body suddenly appeared to come alive, their mouths opening as Gabriel retreated.

Eventually, tranquility returned, and Gabriel respectfully closed the door.

The following morning, Lumian stuck to his routinegoing for a run, practicing his boxing, and hunting for breakfast in his customary fashion.

Upon his return to the Auberge du Coq Dore, he noticed that Gabriels neighboring room was already open. There was no sign of Gabriel, nor any trace of luggage.

Intrigued, Lumian made his way to the third floor and discovered that Room 309 was in the same state.

He clicked his tongue and returned to Room 207 with a wry smile.

Before long, the doll messenger made an appearance, tossing a neatly folded letter and a silver mask onto the wooden table.

Madam Justices reward has arrived? Lumians delight was palpable.