Fake? Lumian raised his right eyebrow, as if he heard fate mocking Charlie mercilessly.
Charlie gave up his already fragile principles, slept with Mrs. Alice for a few days, got involved in a murder lawsuit, lost his job as an apprentice waiter, and got nothing in return but a fake diamond necklace
For some reason, Lumian suddenly felt the urge not to just succumb to fate.
Although this was not his business, he could still relate to it.
Fuck your fate!
You mock me, and I will mock you and provoke you back!
At this moment, Lumian vaguely grasped another rule of acting as a "provocateur", but it was still crude and not accurate enough.
He looked at Charlie and asked thoughtfully, "Do you think Mrs. Alice deceived you, or did the pawnshop owner see that you were in such a poor state that you couldn't verify the authenticity of the necklace, so he deliberately found such an excuse to lower the price to the lowest?"
"I, I don't know." Charlie was extremely confused and painful.
After a pause, he added with difficulty: "I suspect it was Mrs. Alice. You see, there are so many people who come here to mortgage. The appraisers handle dozens or even hundreds of items every day, most of which are valuables. It is impossible that they only deceived me, right? How could she..."
Charlie couldn't tell.
Shouldn't pawnshops be allowed to cheat everyone equally, and give as much as they can, with the more expensive items being given more? Lumian said in a low voice, and laughed, "Why not? Many rich people didn't get rich by kindness and hard work. If I can cheat you with a fake, why should I give you the real thing?"
"Maybe Mrs. Alice is just such a rich person, or even not that rich, who relies on living in the White Swan Hotel to defraud young people like you."
Lumian did not deny all rich people, because among that group, a large number of people did make their fortunes through talent, ability, hard work and opportunity, such as Auror.
After being teased by him, Charlie's facial muscles were obviously twisted.
He said to himself angrily, "Yes, Mrs. Alice has never treated me to a big meal during this period. She always asked me to go to the room service at 7 or 8 in the evening...
You are so easy to fool, are you really a Lim? Lumian couldn't help but raise his hand to cover his face.
He immediately stood up and said, "Take back the necklace, and let's try another pawnshop."
"What if it's true?"
Charlie was stunned for a moment and said, “Okay, okay!”
He wasn't so willing either.
Lumian reminded again: "Pay attention to check, don't let them replace the necklace."
"Yeah." Charlie tried to cheer up, "I looked at the necklace every day some time ago and memorized every detail of it!"
After getting the diamond necklace back, Lumian accompanied Charlie to find two more pawn shops in the Observatory District.
The identification result is the same as before, the necklace is fake and can only be regarded as 11-15 Fel Gold.
Charlie was becoming increasingly frustrated and devastated.
Lumian glanced at him and said comfortingly, "At least you can still earn a dozen Felgin, which is enough for you to survive for more than a week, and you can also buy drinks to the waiters at the cafe on White Coat Street and ask them to introduce you to a new job."
Charlie spent about 1 Filkin a day including rent, and less if he didn't go to the underground bar for a drink.
"Yeah..." Charlie sighed.
After being extremely depressed and accepting the reality, he felt that there was still hope in life after hearing this.
Lumian thought for a moment and said, "We can't rule out other possibilities. For example, the pawnshops here have private contacts and communications, and they specifically defraud people like you who are poorly dressed and have pawned valuables but don't have the corresponding invoices. Do you want to take the necklace to a specialized jewelry store for appraisal?"
"That will cost a fee." Charlie looked embarrassed.
It would be fine if it turns out to be authentic, but if it is fake, then his already limited assets may shrink by one third to one half.
Lumian sighed and said, "Give me the diamond necklace and I'll find a friend to appraise it for free. You should have some money on you to get through the day, right?"
"I still have 2.6 Fel Gold." Charlie handed the diamond necklace to Lumian with expectant eyes.
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As Lumian put away the necklace, he smiled and said, "Aren't you worried that if it turns out to be real, I'll give you a fake one and tell you that there's no problem with those pawn shops?"
“…” Charlie’s expression froze again.
After a second, he exhaled and said, "I believe you, and I already think it's fake."
Lumian waved goodbye to Charlie and walked towards Purgatory Square.
Near the catacombs, Austa Trull sat in his old position facing the bonfire, in a black hooded robe.
"Aren't you going to change places?" Lumian walked over and asked with a smile.
Osta chuckled and said, "My divination and interpretation are quite accurate. Many people have introduced their friends here. If I change places, won't I lose my accumulated customers? They are all Felkin!"
“What do you mean by accumulated customers? They are obviously accumulated fools.” Lumian said half-jokingly and half-sarcastically.
Osta didn't dare to refute.
Lumian immediately asked, "I have something to ask Mr. K. How can I contact him?"
So he wasn't looking for me... Osta breathed a sigh of relief and said quickly, "Those who have attended the party can go directly to the headquarters of Psychic Magazine, which is the building where we had the party, 19 Rue de Scher, and knock on the door of Room 103 in a rhythm of three long, two short, and one long. Then someone will take you to see Mr. K. If you don't want to go in person, you can send a letter to Room 103, 19 Rue de Scher, Boulevard District, and the recipient is Guillaume Pierre."
What a fake pseudonym... The rhythm of knocking on the door is different from the rhythm of knocking on the door before the party... Mr. K didn't even tell me this. Does he think Osta can tell? Lumian nodded, said goodbye to Osta, and returned to the ground.
When passing the entrance of the catacombs, he saw a group of visitors holding lighted white candles and following the administrator through the naturally formed archway and into the "Empire of Death."
Withdrawing his gaze, Lumian went out and took a public carriage to 19 Scheer Street in the Boulevard District.
He pulled his cap down and knocked on the door of Room 103 in a rhythm of three long, two short, and one long.
With a creak, the dark red wooden door opened.
The person who appeared before Lumian was a young man with a handsome face and brown hair who looked like an artist.
He looked at Lumian with his dark brown eyes for two seconds. "Who are you looking for?"
"I'm Charles, and I have something to discuss with Mr. K." Lumian said bluntly.
The young man tilted his head slightly, as if listening to a tiny sound.
Soon, he said to Lumian, "Follow me."
The young man walked all the way to the side of the room with a rather classical style and opened the secret door hidden in the dressing room.
There were stairs leading underground, and the walls on both sides were inlaid with gas wall lamps surrounded by black grids.
Lumian entered the basement, walked through a short corridor, and came to a rather empty room.
He suspected there might be other exits, perhaps even connected to an area of underground Trier.
At this moment, Mr. K was sitting in a red-backed chair, his face hidden in the shadow of a large hood.
The convener of the party looked at Lumian without saying a word, bringing a terrifying sense of oppression.
Lumian clicked his cap and said with a smile, "Good morning, Mr. K. I need your help with something. You decide what the price is for me."
Mr. K was silent for a few seconds, then asked in a low, hoarse voice, "Does the Sting Gang know that it was you who killed Maggot?"
As expected. Lumian was not surprised at all that Mr. K had some of his information.
When he attended the party, he deliberately covered his face with bandages and restored the state when he killed Maggot, just to let Mr. K know about that incident, thereby showing his own value and relatively impulsive and extreme personality.
This can also "win the trust" of Mr. K.
Lumian shook his head: "That's another question..." He then told the story of how he met Charlie, how he helped him out of trouble but was hated by Susanna Mathis, how he was almost killed by that strange creature, and how fortunately the official Beyonder arrived in time. He told the whole story without a single lie, but he didn't mention many details.
This corroborated the information he wanted to buy at the party.
"Do you want to seek protection?" Mr. K listened quietly and asked in a low voice.
Protect? Do you think too highly of yourself? A more accurate word should be protection! Lumian muttered a few words silently, then nodded solemnly, "Yes."
Mr. K said in a hoarse voice, "It should be a soul creature, very much like an evil spirit. Under normal circumstances, as long as you move out of the market area, it will no longer be able to affect you, but the official Beyonders have obviously been keeping an eye on this matter. If you move out now, you may be suspected. Moreover, if Susanna Mathis remembers you or even marks you, you may be attacked wherever you are. Many abilities can transcend distance limits and do not require it to actually leave the territory."
No wonder the two ladies didn't suggest that I move away... Lumian nodded thoughtfully: "Then what should I do?"
Mr. K said slowly: "I can provide some protection, but you need to do one thing for me."
"What's the matter?" Lumian asked "urgently".
Mr. K clasped his hands in front of him and said, "Join any gang in the market area and become the leader."
The organization behind Mr. K wants to indirectly control the market area? Lumian answered without hesitation: "No problem!"
Mr. K nodded slowly and grasped his left index finger with his right palm.
Then he pulled hard and ripped the finger off, revealing a bloody wound and white bones.
Lumian felt a great pain just by seeing it.
Surprisingly, there was no blood oozing from Mr. K’s wound or the finger; they just twisted and shrank at the edges, gradually “healing”.
"Take it with you, it can help you in a critical moment." Mr. K threw the severed finger to Lumian.
The flesh and blood at the wound on his left palm where the finger was missing was wriggling violently, as if a new one was about to grow.