Customs

Lumian unconsciously held his breath and drew back a little.

Naroka did not come in his direction. Slowly, ever so slowly, she entered the grove and vanished into the depths of the night.

"She didn't look quite right... Did something happen?" Lumian felt a little worried.

There had been more and more strange occurrences in the village lately.

He gazed outside a while longer. The night had fallen silent again, and only the swaying leaves betrayed the presence of the wind.

"What are you looking at?" Aurora's voice suddenly sounded behind him.

Rather than being startled, Lumian was delighted. He turned to his sister, who was wearing a two-piece set of pajamas. "You noticed something wrong too?"

"No." Aurora's loose blond hair was slightly tousled and fluffy. She had clearly just gotten out of bed.

Then she said irritably, "I didn't see anything wrong. All I know is that someone was hanging around the window in the middle of the night instead of sleeping."

"It'll be light in an hour at most. How does that count as the middle of the night..." Lumian habitually muttered under his breath before asking, "You didn't come because that owl flew outside the window again? You didn't see Naroka outside?"

"Naroka?" A rare look of bewilderment crossed Aurora's face.

Lumian hid nothing, recounting everything from waking up and spotting a dark shape outside the window to seeing the strangely behaving Naroka walk into the grove.

As for the unusual effects of meditating in the dream, he planned to consult that mysterious woman first before deciding how to tell Aurora-or whether to hide it a little longer, lest his sister stop him from obtaining supernatural powers.

Aurora's lovely golden eyebrows drew together.

"Something may already have happened to Naroka...

"Go to their house after daybreak and take a look."

"What sort of thing?" Lumian instinctively pressed.

"How would I know? I didn't see her, so I can't make an accurate judgment," Aurora replied irritably.

"You really didn't see anything?" Lumian had thought his sister was watching him the whole time.

Aurora gave a short laugh.

"You think I can just look at anything I want? If I see something I shouldn't, you'll have to start picking out a burial plot for me.

"I don't look outside for no reason. I only monitor your condition, and I wake up if something's wrong."

My sister's taking such a huge risk to look after me... Lumian froze for a moment and couldn't help blinking.

Aurora added earnestly, "That's why I told you not to look at things you shouldn't see or listen to things you shouldn't hear. Pursuing supernatural powers is extremely dangerous."

"Okay." Lumian nodded solemnly.

At the same time, he silently told himself, It's precisely because it's dangerous that I can't let you walk that path alone.

After breakfast, Lumian headed straight to Naroka's house, carrying out his sister's instructions.

Before he drew close, he saw many villagers standing outside the door. They included several of his friends, Ava's father Guillaume Lizier, Raymond's father Pierre Krag, and the Parish Priest's younger brother Pons Béné.

"What happened?" Lumian cautiously skirted Pons Béné and the thugs gathered around him, coming to Raymond's side.

Raymond replied sorrowfully, "Naroka passed away."

"Huh?" Although Lumian had prepared himself for something having happened to Naroka, he hadn't expected her to be dead already.

Raymond went on, "The Parish Priest came to give her last rites before dawn this morning.

"When we asked her about the Warlock legend a couple of days ago, she was still fine and full of energy. How did she suddenly pass away..."

Before dawn this morning? Lumian's heart jolted.

That was precisely when he had seen Naroka. The Parish Priest's last rites must have taken place a little before or after that, not far apart.

So what I saw was actually Naroka's ghost? This happened after that owl flew over and stared at me... Can it really take human souls away? Hmm, Naroka was one of the surviving witnesses to the Warlock incident... If I hadn't listened to my sister and stayed indoors after dark, I might have been the one receiving last rites from the Parish Priest. Heh, his idea of giving me last rites would probably be to spit on me... All sorts of thoughts flashed through Lumian's mind.

Raymond did not try to chat with him either. He stood outside the two-story house, quietly mourning Naroka.

After reining in his thoughts, Lumian saw the three outsiders-Lya, Ryan, and Valentine-approaching.

"Did something happen here?" Lya asked before Lumian could greet them.

They had noticed the crowd gathered along the road.

Lumian sighed. "My cabbages, a respected old lady has passed away."

"Then why are you all standing outside?" Lya did not immediately offer her condolences, since Lumian's words weren't entirely convincing.

She was still wearing the same clothes as before.

Lumian promptly made a show of looking her up and down, leaving Lya a little uneasy.

"What is it?" Ryan asked.

Lumian smiled.

"You're definitely not locals from Dalege."

"We're from Bigos," Ryan answered frankly.

Bigos was the capital of Leston Province in the Republic of Intis, while Dalege was a city on the province's southern border. It administered a large area that included Cordou Village.

"No wonder you don't know the customs of the Dalege Region." Lumian nodded.

He had previously thought these three outsiders were officials from Dalege, but they had actually come from the provincial capital, Bigos.

Their standing seems considerably higher than I expected... Lumian silently revised his assessment of Lya and the others.

"What sort of customs?" Lya asked with interest. "Could you tell us?"

Lumian had wanted to build a good relationship with them anyway, so he smiled and said, "You're my cabbages. Why wouldn't I tell you?

"As you know, everyone has their own constellation. Here in the Dalege Region, we also believe every family has its own constellation, which brings it a corresponding share of luck. The death and funeral of a family member, especially the head of the household, will carry that good luck away.

"To avoid disturbing the constellation and preserve our luck, we place the deceased at the center of the home-the kitchen-before burial. Then we cut off some of her hair and nails and hide them in the house forever, somewhere guests won't find them.

"At a time like this, anyone attending the funeral who enters the house will disturb its constellation and take away some of its luck. That's why we mourn outside the door. At most, we go to the doorway to look inside, then head to the cemetery beside the church to wait."

"I see." Ryan nodded slightly. "It's much like how the cathedrals in every region keep holy relics: 'Where part of a sacred body remains, the saint will always be present.'"

He turned to face Naroka's house, removed his hat, and held it against his chest as he began a silent prayer of mourning.

Lya and Valentine followed his example and paid their respects.

When they finished, Lumian told them, "I'm going to the doorway to view the body. See you later, my cabbages."

"All right." Ryan nodded gently.

Lumian lowered his voice and added,

"I'll help you find that Little Blue Book."

Before Lya or the others could respond, he stepped aside and asked with a smile, "Why do you wear the same clothes every day?"

"When you're staying away from home for a while, you can't worry too much about appearances," Ryan said simply, while Lya instinctively touched the silver bells hanging from her veil.

After saying goodbye to Valentine and the others, Lumian went to the entrance of Naroka's house.

He waited in line for a while before his turn finally came.

Standing beside the door, he gazed toward the kitchen ahead.

Naroka's body had not yet been placed in a coffin. She lay quietly on a makeshift bed formed from several benches.

Her nails had been clipped, and her sparse white hair was much neater than usual.

Her face was a bluish white. Combined with the wrinkles, it was enough to keep even a bold young man like Lumian from looking at her for too long.

Her face is bluer than when I saw her before dawn... Lumian remarked inwardly. He bowed slightly and left the doorway.

While walking toward the cemetery with Raymond, he suddenly slapped his forehead.

"Oh, I forgot to tell Aurora."

"Then go," Raymond said understandingly.

Aurora often disliked leaving the house. Without her brother, she really would have no way of knowing what had happened in the village.

Lumian took the opportunity to say, "Your house is nearby anyway. Lend me your Little Blue Book for a couple of days. Rats chewed up a few pages of ours, and I need to copy them."

"Sure." Raymond agreed.

There was still plenty of time before the burial, after all.

"Naroka passed away," Lumian told Aurora after hiding the Little Blue Book and returning home.

Aurora couldn't help sighing.

"So something really did happen.

"I wonder if that owl caused it..."

"I suspect it too," Lumian said in agreement.

Aurora murmured an acknowledgment.

"You mustn't leave the house after dark.

"You also need to find a way to warn the people who were investigating the Warlock legend with you."

"Okay." Lumian had already frightened Raymond by pointing out that Naroka had died barely two days after being asked about the Warlock legend, telling him not to go outside after dark for the time being.

"Naroka was a good person. I'll change clothes and attend her funeral." As Aurora headed toward the stairs, she asked, "Are you coming with me, or will you read for a while and do a practice paper before going?"

What's the point of doing a practice paper at a time like this? Sometimes, Lumian simply couldn't understand how his sister thought.

Considering that he needed to compare the Little Blue Books, he told Aurora, "I'll do a practice paper first."

"Very good." Aurora looked quite pleased.

After watching his sister leave, Lumian's expression grew grave.

He went upstairs to the study, took out the Little Blue Book borrowed from Raymond's house, and compared it with their own copy, which had portions of words cut out.

Time slowly passed. One by one, he found the corresponding words and wrote them on a sheet of white paper.

Lumian carefully pieced them together for a while, then adjusted them to fit two sentences.

Soon, a possible version of the plea for help appeared before his eyes.

"We need help as soon as possible.

"The people around us are becoming stranger and stranger."