Before entering the bar, Lumian-na had already taken in the sights of the area.
Lavigne Dock was a busy river port. Steamships billowing white vapor lay moored there, while machinery assembled from steel components moved overhead under the operators' control.
Viewed from below, the crisscrossing mechanical arms seemed to divide the entire sky into patches of slightly dazzling light.
Bars, inns, restaurants, and all manner of shops brimming with everyday life surrounded the port. Even the streets were filled with groups of vendors hawking their wares.
In certain designated areas, prostitutes who had paid their taxes waited for sailors eager for flesh to meet flesh.
In a place so steeped in the bustle of ordinary life, a church undoubtedly seemed somewhat out of place. Yet there it stood, seemingly blending perfectly into this earthly world.
Lumian-na stepped into the bar she had instinctively chosen earlier and gave her surroundings a quick once-over:
It was not far from the Church of the Fool, and its regulars were likely to know something about it. Before entering the church herself, Lumian-na wanted to learn what people thought of it. This was both a gesture of respect toward Mr. Fool and a way of taking responsibility for herself.
Every bar seemed much the same inside. Upon entering, the smell of strong liquor mingled with all sorts of other odors and rushed to greet her. Men's sweat, women's perfume and cosmetics-these hormone-laden scents mingled to create the bar's unique atmosphere.
After entering, Lumian-na noticed a man sitting in an outrageously brazen pose. He reclined on a sofa with his legs propped on the edge of a round table, leisurely drinking oat beer.
His posture was secondary. What truly caught Lumian-na's attention was his appearance:
Tawny eyebrows and bright, deep-blue eyes-although it was somewhat impolite, the