Chapter 247 - 247 Instigation

247 Instigation

In the café on the second floor of Salle de Bal Brise,

Lumian finished his lunch and caught sight of Franca once more. She was attired in a white shirt, light-colored breeches, and vibrant red boots.

This time, her countenance was grave, causing an uneasiness to settle upon Louis, Sarkota, and the other gangsters. They feared that trouble might accompany her arrival.

Lumian rose from his seat, casting an inquisitive gaze in her direction.

Franca exhaled slowly and spoke, her tone weighted with solemnity.

“Jenna’s mother passed away.”

Lumian was taken aback, as though he had witnessed Flameng’s lifeless body dangling from a window frame or Ruhr decaying to the bone.

His eyes narrowed, and his hands clenched into fists. After a few moments, he inquired, “Was it due to her declining condition?”

“No,” Franca shook her head. “It was suicide.”

Observing Lumian’s perplexed expression, she sighed and elaborated, “Last night, when I sought out Jenna, I worried that she might put up a brave facade and keep her difficulties concealed or seek our assistance, so I made a point to meet the attending physician and the nurses responsible for her mother’s care. I treated them to coffee and dessert, urging them to keep a close watch on Jenna’s mother. I arranged for them to notify me immediately of any complications, and I pledged to cover any necessary expenses.

“They informed me that upon learning about the months-long treatment and its approximate cost, Jenna’s mother took advantage of Jenna’s visit to the cafeteria and Julien’s absence in search of a doctor. She leaped from the sixth floor…

“Alas, her health was already frail, and she perished instantly upon impact.”

Lumian fell into a pensive silence. Suddenly, he pressed his left chest and sneered, “Is this fate?”

Franca couldn’t provide an answer.

…

At 1 p.m., Lumian and Franca arrived at the Holy Palace Hospital. The nurse, whom Franca had deliberately befriended, guided them to the Farewell Sanctuary, situated on the ground floor of an annex.

The place was known as the Farewell Sanctuary, where the departed awaited their purification.

Julien, Jenna’s brother, sat by the door, his head in his hands, wearing a pained expression as he stared at the sky-blue-painted wall opposite.

Approaching him, Franca asked in a hushed voice, “Are Auntie and Jenna inside?”

Julien nodded slowly and whispered to himself in anguish, “I shouldn’t have left her alone in the ward…

“I shouldn’t have left her alone in the ward…”

Franca didn’t know how to console him; all she could do was sigh and enter the Farewell Sanctuary alongside Julien.

Elodie’s body lay on a bed covered by a white sheet, concealed beneath a plain white cloth.

The blood on her body had been cleansed. Her face appeared pallid, and her eyes were tightly shut.

Jenna sat on a stool across from her mother, her gaze empty and her voice absent, as if her soul had departed.

Franca called out, a mix of pain and concern in her tone, but Jenna ignored her, as if she had encased herself in another realm.

Lumian pulled up a chair and seated himself next to Jenna, his gaze also fixed upon the lifeless figure of Elodie.

After a few seconds, he spoke in a deep voice, “I understand what you’re feeling. Not long ago, I, too, lost the family member who meant the most to me.”

Jenna remained silent, as if she had transformed into a statue.

Lumian directed his gaze toward the same direction as Jenna and continued, “But you need to know who is responsible for this tragedy.

“Is it your fault? Is it your mother’s fault? Is it your brother’s fault?

“No, you did nothing wrong! Faced with accidents and debts, you chose to endure them with determination. You chose to rely on your own labor and suffering to secure a new life. It took you several years to emerge from it slowly. Is that wrong? No!

“This time, you didn’t abandon your loved one. You fought hard to find a solution. Is that wrong? No!

“You didn’t hide anything from your mother. You informed her about the duration of the treatment, the costs, and the source of funding. Is that wrong? No! There was no way to conceal it!

“Your mother loves you and wants you to avoid reliving the painful past few years. She wants you to walk in the light, not in darkness. Is that wrong? No!

“Who is at fault?

“It’s the factory owner who continuously appeals and delays the compensation for the accident, subjecting you to years of painful and oppressive existence!

“It’s the laws that protect their actions!

“It’s Bono Goodville, who disregards safety regulations and fails to replace worn-out machines!

“It’s the exorbitant cost of treatment that plunges the less fortunate into despair!

“It’s the National Convention and the government who have caused all of this!”

Jenna’s expression finally shifted, a glimmer of pain surfacing in her vacant eyes and impassive face.

Lumian turned towards the door, his voice resonating with depth as he spoke, “I have something else to say. Perhaps the explosion at Goodville Chemical Factory, which led to your mother’s tragic fate, wasn’t an accident.”

Jenna instinctively turned to face Lumian and Franca.

Lumian directed his gaze towards Elodie’s corpse.

“Perhaps it was a murder, a sacrificial offering to an evil deity.

“Our Honorable Member of Parliament, Hugues Artois, has been assessed by the Blessed of powerful evil gods as an open-minded individual. He is surrounded by heretics, including Tybalt Jacques, the assistant secretary responsible for spreading diseases and taking innocent lives.

“Yesterday morning, Bono Goodville paid a visit to the parliament member’s office, and by evening, his chemical plant had exploded.

“When I encountered Tybalt Jacques in the guise of Bono Goodville, he mentioned something about unavoidable troubles following an organization’s decay. It convinced me that the chemical plant explosion was something they eagerly anticipated. It might have been orchestrated with a specific purpose that remains unknown to us.

“Are you consumed by anger? Do you feel a burning hatred? Can you accept this?

“Do you wish to sit here and watch as the murderers responsible for your mother’s death and the destruction of your happiness revel in champagne, indulge in dance parties, and inflict more heartbreak on innocent families?”

Jenna’s expression twisted slightly, as if she grappled with conflicting emotions within.

Eventually, she raised her hands to cover her face, weeping bitterly.

“But my mother… she cannot be brought back…”

Franca crouched down before Jenna and embraced her, allowing her tears to flow freely. As Jenna wept, Franca offered her guidance, “What your mother desires most is for both you and your brother to be free from the burdens of debt and to embark on a fresh new life. She wishes for one of you to become a remarkable stage actress, while the other escapes the constraints of ordinary labor and masters a particular skill. She yearns for you to live well. Can you bear to disappoint her?”

Jenna sobbed and asked, “But isn’t it said that the night will pass and light will emerge? Why? Why is it always so dark? Why can’t I see any light…”

“It will come, it will come,” Franca repeated, patting Jenna’s back soothingly. “What you must do now is to give your mother a proper burial and consider doing something meaningful in her honor.”

“Okay,” Jenna agreed tearfully.

She wept until exhaustion overtook her, finally finding stability within her emotions.

At that moment, the clergyman from the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, who had come to offer his final words of solace, arrived.

Clad in a white robe adorned with intricate golden threads, he entered the room alongside Julien and positioned himself beside Elodie’s lifeless body.

In one hand, he grasped the Holy Bible and recited a prayer, while the other hand held a suspended bottle of holy water.

Eventually, a beam of sunlight, accompanied by the holy water, materialized from thin air and gently bathed Elodie.

“Praise the Sun. May this sister find peace and enter the realm of God.” The clergyman extended his arms.

“Praise the Sun!” Jenna and Julien joined in prayer.

Observing the ceremony, Lumian bowed his head and silently scoffed.

Franca, a devout follower of the God of Steam and Machinery, refrained from praising the Sun as well.

With the purification ritual concluded, the priest departed from the Farewell Sanctuary. In his place, the administrator in charge of the Holy Palace Hospital morgue entered and posed a question to Julien and Jenna, “Should we proceed with burial or cremation for this sister? Shall we send her to the catacombs, Cimetière des Innocents, or Cimetière des Prêtres?”

Julien and Jenna exchanged glances before responding, “Cremation. We’ll personally escort her to the catacombs.”

Their father also rested there.

The morgue administrator made a notation and added, “There have been numerous casualties from last night. The crematorium won’t be available until next week. Would you like this sister to remain in the morgue for the time being?”

“Very well.” Jenna’s voice trembled slightly.

And so, the four of them watched as Elodie’s visage was veiled with a white cloth and her body was gently guided out of the Farewell Sanctuary.

They trailed behind the wheeled bed, descending through the steam-powered elevator into the subterranean realm until they arrived outside the morgue.

The morgue door gleamed in a silvery-gray hue, while the interior emanated an eerie coldness, producing a misty white fog at the intersection.

Jenna stood in a daze as her mother, Elodie, was propelled through the door, vanishing into the frigid chamber filled with metallic cabinets illuminated by gas-powered wall lamps. She remained fixated as the silver-gray door slowly shut.

Unconsciously, she took a few steps forward, halting at the threshold.

Silently, the door closed.

Her mother was now forever beyond her sight.

…

As they returned to Passy Bridge in Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman, Jenna’s eyes fixed on her brother Julien, who walked ahead of her with a heavy heart. Sorrow engulfed her as the bright afternoon sun blinded her vision.

Franca averted her gaze from Julien’s retreating form and contemplated finding a task to occupy Jenna’s mind.

“Your brother is emotionally distressed. It seems he blames himself. Offer him guidance in the upcoming days and assure him that it wasn’t his fault. Any ordinary person would have hurriedly sought a doctor.”

Jenna momentarily snapped out of her sorrow and tersely acknowledged, “I’ll counsel him. But what if it doesn’t work?”

She glanced at Lumian and Franca, her expression filled with helplessness.

Franca nodded reassuringly.

“When the time comes, I can assist him in finding a genuine Psychiatrist—one with Beyonder abilities.”

Jenna let out a sigh of relief, her nose sniffing with gratitude.

“Thank you. Thank you both.”

Lumian, drawing from his own experiences, reminded her, “You must also attend to your own mental well-being.”

Jenna pressed her lips together and nodded, her gaze gradually transforming into one of determination.

In a hushed, raspy voice, she addressed Franca and Lumian, “Tonight, I intend to pay a ‘visit’ to Bono Goodville.”