The Cycle of Fate

Chapter 179: Scars

As time passed, Lumian felt his body temperature slowly slipping away. Even though the sun was blazing outside the public carriage, it couldn't stop this change. His thoughts became less active, and the skin on the back of his hand turned increasingly pale.

Finally, Lumian made it to the market district.

When he jumped off the carriage, his limbs felt stiff. As he turned onto White Coat Street, a gentleman walking toward him suddenly froze, gasping in fear. Lumian instinctively glanced to the side, checking his reflection in the café's window.

His once golden-black hair looked as though it hadn't been washed for days. His complexion was so pale it had turned bluish, with purplish-red blotches and signs of decay visible around his neck. His eyes were cold and hollow, resembling a corpse that had been dead for days.

Lumian smiled at the gentleman and said, "How do I look? Am I convincing as a living corpse?"

He heard his voice taking on a tone akin to Hela's icy one.

The gentleman muttered a curse under his breath and circled around what he thought was someone preparing for a masquerade party.

Understanding that the contamination was worsening, Lumian quickened his pace, moving with an increasingly uncoordinated gait toward the rented safe house he hadn't yet vacated.

Inside, he quickly set up the altar, spread out paper, and wrote a short letter to the "Magician":

"I have completed the 'Justice' lady's request and retrieved the water from the 'Samaritan Woman's Spring,' but I've also been contaminated, and it's getting worse. How do I cleanse it?"

After neatly folding the letter, Lumian summoned the Magician's messenger.

The doll-like messenger appeared above the dim blue candle flame, looked at Lumian, and nodded approvingly: "I like your current look—except for the greasy hair."

A dying look? Lumian didn't even feel much inclination to grumble, something that was usually second nature to him.

Once the doll messenger left, Lumian set a fifteen-minute waiting limit for himself. If the Magician hadn't responded by then, he would have to figure out another way to resolve the contamination, such as performing a ritual and directly praying to the Fool.

The borrowed pocket watch from the Windy Ballroom ticked in regular intervals, but Lumian had noticed earlier that it was nearly ten minutes behind. The closer he had gotten to the Samaritan Woman's Spring, the slower its ticks had become.

Suddenly, starry light streamed from the void, coalescing into a mystical, dreamlike door.

The door swung open, revealing the "Magician" dressed in a brown-yellow dress, stepping out. Behind her, the darkness was deep and dotted with starlight.

This holder of one of the Major Arcana from the Tarot Club glanced at Lumian and gently nodded:

"Pray to the Fool for an angelic purification."

So, I still have to ask the Fool for help? Without asking further, Lumian used the altar he had already prepared and began the ritual.

After lighting the candles, adding essential oils, and burning the herbs in the correct order, he stepped back and stared at the flames, chanting solemnly:

"Fool who does not belong to this era, mysterious ruler above the gray fog, King of Yellow and Black who wields good fortune...

"I beseech you;

"I ask for you to cleanse the contamination from my body..."

Once the ritual was complete, Lumian once again saw the angel formed of light, with twelve pairs of wings of light enveloping it.