Chapter 79: Frightened? (Please vote for the last day and a half)
Change one piece? Lumian did not expect to get a reminder from Thermipolos at this time.
Whether this fateful angel wants to take the opportunity to set up a trap and do something, or simply does not want the seal carrier to have problems in such a place and at such a time, it is enough to show that this seemingly ordinary and simple King Cake game has great potential.
The hidden dangers, once touched, will cause everyone present to slide into the abyss of danger.
When Count Puyver said that this involved occultism and that he needed to sacrifice a piece of king cake to the gods of belief or revered ancestors, Lumian felt that there might be supernatural elements involved, similar to the divination that many occult enthusiasts like to play.
It's the same as the game, but who knows, the problem is more serious than he expected, making an angel feel that he can't cope with the dual-sequence 7, or that it can harm him with the dual-sequence 7.
As his thoughts flashed, Lumian had no way of determining what Thermipolos had in mind. He could only cautiously stretch out his arms and select one piece from the remaining five pieces of king cake in a very casual manner.
This time, Thermipolos did not stop him.
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After Lumian, Anoli, Mullen, Ernst and Ilett each took a piece of king cake, leaving only the piece closest to Lumian.
"It seems like it belongs to me." Count Puyver leaned forward, held the piece of king cake with a smile, put it into his mouth, and gently bit off part of it.
Lumian also made a similar move. He felt that the pastry was crispy on the outside, sweet on the inside, and left a mouthful of flavor. It was of good quality.
After taking a few bites, Count Puyver laughed and said: "It seems that I am the king today."
As he spoke, he took out a broad bean from his mouth.
The moment he saw the broad beans, Lumian's nose seemed to smell a faint smell of blood and rust.
At the same time, this corner of the Mechanical Cafe suddenly became dull and depressing, as if everyone was worried about being ordered to do something they couldn't bear.
Count Puyver stood up and turned his back to the window facing the street, blocking the sunlight behind him.
This made his face seem to be cast with a light shadow, and his smile looked a little dark.
Count Puyver looked at the novelist Anoly, and the corners of his mouth became higher and higher: "Go outside the cafe and shout 'I am shit' to the passers-by."
Anoli, who was unconsciously nervous, breathed a sigh of relief and responded with a smile on his face: "No problem."
Short and fat, he stood up quickly, walked quickly to the door, and pulled the door handle embedded in the side wall.
Amidst the sounds of friction and slight collisions, the mechanical arm suddenly tightened and "drags" the heavy wooden door backwards.
Anoli left the cafe and came to the street. He shouted to a pedestrian on the road: "I am shit!"
“I am the shit raised by a sow!
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"My whole family is the shit raised by sows!"
Every passerby cast a surprised look, and immediately laughed out loud.
After scolding himself, Anoli returned to Lumian and others in a happy mood.
"You have such a good psychological quality." Lumian finally forced himself to replace "you are so thick-skinned" with something acceptable to the other party.
Novelist Anoli chuckled and said: "Every time I can't write anything, I go to the balcony and scold myself. This is still light."
"You writers have so many quirks." Lumian thought of his sister who claimed to be in the late stages of procrastination.
Arnoli took a sip of absinthe, sat down again, and watched Count Puyver, who was always standing with his backlight, cast his eyes on the pale and handsome painter Mullen: "Give Elitte a slap in the face."
Mullen relaxed, did not leave his seat, leaned forward, and gave the poet Elitte a slap in the face.
Yilett, whose hair was quite sparse and whose cheek muscles were slightly droopy, was not angry and just took another puff from the cigarette.
Sensing Lumian's appraising gaze, he smiled carelessly: "As a poet, you must learn to enjoy the malice around you."
Enjoying malice... What a literary young man, no, a literary middle-aged man... Lumian observed the participants in the game and found that except for Count Puyver who had eaten broad beans, there was nothing unusual about them for the time being.
Count Puyver turned his body slightly, and his face still looked a little dark due to the backlight.
He told literary critic Ernst: "Be loyal to me."
The "Black Cats" usually get together and often do all kinds of outrageous things. In a recently popular term, they are the pioneers of performance art. Therefore, Ernst has no pressure to kneel down and swear allegiance.
, even felt that it was not enough, that it was not exciting and humiliating enough.
Count Puyver looked at the poet Ilett again: "Give all the money you have to the tramp opposite."
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Yi Laite was startled for a moment, and then said distressedly: "Okay.
"As you know, I am a poor man. The total remuneration I have earned from poetry in the past five years is less than 3,000 Firkin. What I think about every day is which friend will organize a party today and let me drink for free.
liquor."
You're quite an honest poet... Lumian was thinking about sponsoring this guy to see what he could write.
Come on, anyway, the "sponsorship fee" was provided by Gardner Martin. If he didn't use it, he couldn't really pretend to do it.
On the contrary, only by specifically sponsoring certain artists can he have the opportunity to take part of it as his own.
Before Count Puyver could respond, Ilett suddenly laughed. He fumbled in his pockets and announced cheerfully: "So, I only took 5 felkin with me when I went out!"
"Fif golds? If you go to the Vichy café, you can only ask for half a bottle of natural water and two boiled eggs." The novelist Anoly muttered while watching the poet Elitte go out quickly and put the 5 fair golds.
Lost it to the homeless guy on the other side.
The Vichy Café is located in an alley on Boulevard Street. There are many members of Congress, senior government officials, bankers, industrialists, financiers, famous socialites, and writers, painters, poets, and sculptors who are sought after by the upper class.
.
At this point, everyone has taken a turn, and only Lumian is left.
Count Puyver looked at Lumian with a deep look and said:
"This is your first time attending our 'Black Cat' party. I'll give you a simpler task. Take your king cake, go to the deepest room in the basement of the cafe, and exchange it for a piece of white paper."
This sounds a bit occult... If something goes wrong, I will set fire to the basement... Lumian muttered and took a few bites of the king cake. According to the guidance of the novelist Anoli, A staircase leading to the basement was found near the kitchen.
Before entering, he used the mechanical device outside to light the gas wall lamps inside. In the slightly dim light, he walked through the "hall" filled with debris and arrived at the deepest room.
The vermilion wooden door of the room was tightly closed. Lumian listened for a while but found no movement.
There were no suspicious signs outside the door either.
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Lumian stretched out his right palm, grasped the handle, gently twisted it, and slowly pushed it forward.
As the light from the gas wall lamp in the basement "hall" shines into the room, one thing is outlined.
They were heads, huddled in the dark shadows, staring at the "visitors" at the door without any emotion.
Lumian's pupils suddenly dilated and he saw several familiar heads.
They are the heads of novelist Anoly, painter Mullen, critic Ernst and poet Elitte!
When a fireball was about to condense out, Lumian, who had rich experience and tough nerves, forced himself to calm down and realized the problem:
Those heads were not as pale as the dead, and the room was not filled with the unique smell of preservatives.
Lumian, who controlled his reaction, observed carefully for a few more seconds and found that they were all wax heads that had been removed.
They are like watermelons, stuffed into different grids on the wooden frame.
The purpose of this mission is to scare me? If Thermipolos hadn't reminded me to be on high alert, how could such a level of prank scare me? Where is the occult aspect? Lumian thought for a while and put his hand The king cake inside was placed on one of the wooden shelves, and the white paper holding a wax head was removed.
When he returned to the Mechanical Cafe with a blank sheet of paper in hand, he saw Anoli, Elitte and others looking at him with smiles, as if trying to find any remaining fear.
Count Puyver nodded with satisfaction: "You completed the task well."
What if I don’t complete the task well? What will happen? Lumian pretended to be afraid and said:
"Those wax heads were so real that they almost stopped my heart!"
"Haha." Anoly laughed, "This is the welcome gift that the count gives to every new guest. He likes to collect wax heads the most, and every friend he recognizes can get an invitation from the wax master to turn their heads into Turn it into a work of art and put it in the basement of the Mechanical Café.”
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It's as if your heads have been given to Count Puyver... Lumian looked at the necks of Anoli and others, but found no traces of incision.
After chatting for a while about various rumors in the writers' circle, and after sponsoring 2,000 Firkin for "Black Cat", Lumian said goodbye.
Before leaving, his eyes naturally swept over the two one-legged tables.
Suddenly, Lumian's pupils solidified.
He saw that there were still uneaten king cakes on the plates of Count Puyver, Anolly and others, while the white glazed porcelain dessert plate that originally held king cakes was empty.
There should have been a piece of king cake dedicated to the ancestors of the Sauron family!
It's gone!
Lumian did not hide his doubts, pointed at the pastry and said: "I remember there is also a king cake."
Count Puyver laughed, took a sip of coffee and said, "I ate it."
"That's it..." Lumian suddenly understood and smiled back.
He turned around and walked out of the Mechanical Cafe, the smile on his face gradually disappearing.
Count Puyver had only taken two bites of his own piece of king cake!