Compared to everything Lucien had dealt with recently, Carl's situation was almost… mundane.
Strange, yes. Annoying, definitely. But urgent? Not really.
From what Jamie relayed, the detective hadn't been desperate. He had made it clear—if Lucien was willing to help, great. If not, Carl would find another way to deal with it. No pressure.
Lucien exhaled lightly, finishing the last sip of his drink before setting the glass down.
"Tell him I'll handle it," he said calmly. "Have Carl come pick me up in three days."
Jamie blinked. "That fast?"
Lucien gave a faint shrug. "It's just an appraisal. I'm curious what kind of 'Buddha statue' can be worth three million dollars."
His tone carried a trace of amusement, but his eyes were thoughtful.
Anyone bold enough to stage an accident like that… either had absolute confidence in their setup—or didn't care about the consequences at all.
Neither option was reassuring.
Lucien pushed his chair back and stood up, dropping a few bills on the table. The bartender, who had been subtly observing him since the martini order, immediately lowered his head and began polishing glasses with renewed enthusiasm, as if he had just received a final verdict.
"Let's go," Lucien said.
Jamie followed without hesitation.
Outside, the sunlight felt almost too bright.
It was technically late autumn, yet California's weather barely acknowledged the season. The air was warm, steady, comfortable—but the light itself carried a sharpness that made everything feel slightly unreal.
They walked side by side down the street, their earlier tension gradually easing into casual conversation.
Jamie, however, clearly still had questions.
"Lucien," he began, glancing sideways, "besides curses… what kind of situations make it easy for someone to run into… those things?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately. He seemed to consider the question carefully, as if organizing his thoughts rather than dismissing it.
"Normally," he said at last, "nothing happens."
Jamie frowned slightly.
Lucien continued, his tone steady. "As long as you don't deliberately invite it."
"Invite it?"
"Yes." Lucien's gaze shifted forward. "Things like spirit-summoning games. Rituals. Calling out to unknown entities without understanding what you're dealing with."
He paused briefly.
"A lot of children like playing those games. They treat it as entertainment."
"And it's not?" Jamie asked.
Lucien gave a quiet, humorless smile. "Children's minds are weaker. Less stable. Easier to influence. Easier to invade."
Jamie's expression changed slightly.
"I've never done that," he said quickly. "Back in town, with the whole Mary Shaw situation… everyone's already cautious."
"That's good."
Lucien nodded once, then continued walking.
"But that's only one part of it."
Jamie waited.
"Another thing you should avoid," Lucien said, "is blindly believing in strange religions or worshipping unknown entities."
"Religion?" Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that normal here?"
"That depends on what you're worshipping."
Lucien's tone became slightly colder.
"Some entities respond quickly. Too quickly. They grant what you ask for… without delay, without condition—at least on the surface."
Jamie's steps slowed slightly.
"That sounds… good?"
Lucien glanced at him.
"Does it?"
Jamie fell silent.
"There's a price for everything," Lucien continued quietly. "If something gives without taking, it means the cost hasn't been revealed yet."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Most people who fall into cults start the same way. They see results. Their wishes come true. They benefit."
"And then?" Jamie asked.
"They can't leave."
The words were simple.
But the meaning behind them was anything but.
Jamie swallowed slightly, processing it.
"...So basically," he muttered, "freedom of religion isn't always a good thing."
Lucien gave a faint shrug. "Freedom without understanding is just another form of danger."
Jamie nodded slowly, clearly thinking it over.
After a moment, he asked again, "Anything else?"
Lucien's expression shifted slightly, his thoughts drifting back—not to theory, but experience.
"Don't touch old objects carelessly," he said.
Jamie blinked. "Wait… seriously?"
"Yes."
Lucien's tone left no room for doubt.
"When you move into a new place, throw away what the previous owner left behind if you can. Don't keep things just because they look valuable."
He paused, then added calmly, "Freddy was awakened because of something like that."
Jamie stiffened slightly.
"...Right."
"Objects can carry more than just history," Lucien continued. "Sometimes, they carry… remnants."
The word lingered.
"Resentment. Obsession. Or worse."
A brief silence followed.
Then Lucien concluded simply, "Respect these things—but keep your distance."
Jamie let out a breath. "That actually makes sense."
Then he suddenly grinned. "So that's why you know all this, huh? Running an antique shop must be dangerous."
Lucien paused for half a second.
"…Something like that."
He didn't elaborate.
Because the truth was—if he had lived a normal life, quietly dealing with antiques day after day…
He wouldn't have reached this point at all.
As they continued walking, Lucien's attention shifted.
Two figures stood ahead—patrol officers.
They weren't doing anything unusual, just talking quietly while scanning their surroundings. But their eyes lingered on Lucien just a little longer than necessary.
Jamie noticed it too.
His expression darkened immediately.
"They've been staring at you for a while," he muttered. "What's their problem?"
Lucien didn't react.
But Jamie clearly wasn't willing to let it go.
"Damn it," he snapped. "Racists."
He took a step forward, ready to confront them—
—and was immediately stopped.
Lucien's hand caught his arm lightly.
"Wait."
Before Jamie could respond, one of the officers suddenly called out.
"Hey—Lucien, right?"
Jamie froze.
The officer approached with a friendly smile, completely different from what Jamie had expected.
"Didn't think we'd run into you here."
Lucien studied them for a moment, then nodded slightly.
After a brief exchange, the officers moved on, leaving Jamie standing there, confused.
"You know them?" he asked.
Lucien shook his head. "Not personally."
"Then—?"
"They know me."
Jamie blinked.
Lucien didn't explain further, but the truth was simple. These officers had been present during the orphanage incident. They had seen enough to understand that Lucien wasn't someone ordinary.
That kind of impression… didn't fade easily.
"They're here because of a funeral," Lucien added casually. "Someone in the area passed away."
Jamie nodded slowly, though his expression still held a trace of disbelief.
And then—
Something shifted.
It wasn't visible.
It wasn't audible.
But Lucien felt it.
A subtle… warning.
It brushed against his consciousness like a cold breeze, sending a faint ripple through his thoughts.
His steps didn't stop.
His expression didn't change.
But his awareness sharpened instantly.
Without turning his head too quickly, Lucien let his gaze drift slightly to the side.
At the intersection—
A child stood there.
Long blond hair.
Delicate features that made it hard to distinguish gender.
And eyes…
Empty.
Completely empty.
The child wasn't moving.
Wasn't speaking.
Just staring.
Directly at him.
Lucien's gaze lingered for less than a second before shifting away naturally, as if he hadn't noticed anything unusual.
But inside—
His mind had already gone cold.
There was something inside that child.
Something wrong.
Not a ghost.
Not something simple.
Something deeper.
Something that even his current strength couldn't immediately comprehend.
Then, the system's voice appeared.
Cold.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
[You have attracted the attention of an unknown existence.]
[Warning: Do not establish eye contact without sufficient preparation.]
Lucien's fingers tightened slightly—just for a moment.
Then relaxed.
An unknown existence.
Not "evil spirit."
Not "demon."
Something else entirely.
He continued walking.
Step by step.
Unchanged.
Beside him, Jamie was completely unaware, still talking casually about unrelated things.
Good.
The less he knew, the safer he was.
Lucien didn't look back.
But he could feel it.
That gaze.
Following him.
Watching.
Studying.
As if trying to understand something.
Or confirm something.
It wasn't until they turned the corner and disappeared from view that the pressure eased slightly.
Back at the intersection, the child remained standing.
Still.
Silent.
For a few seconds—
Nothing changed.
Then—
A flicker.
The empty eyes shifted, just slightly, as if something deep within had loosened its grip.
Footsteps approached from behind.
A teenage boy walked up, looking slightly annoyed.
"Hey, it's time to go," he said. "Mom and Dad are waiting."
No response.
The boy sighed, then bent down and picked the child up.
"Seriously… what are you even staring at?"
He didn't notice anything unusual.
Didn't see the lingering direction of the child's gaze.
Didn't hear—
The faint sound.
"Da…"
A soft, unnatural click.
As if something unseen had just taken note—
—and marked its target.