Furen was roused from his sleep by the shouts rising from the balcony.
The night before, he had fallen asleep gazing at the moon. Fortunately, the night hadn't been cold, and he hadn't caught a cold.
"Last minute! Last minute! Villa Melanie has been destroyed! The entire Crow family has perished!"
"Last minute! Last minute! Villa Melanie has been destroyed! The entire Crow family has perished!"
It was to these announcements outside his house that Furen woke up that morning.
Although he only caught snatches of sentences, the words "Melanie" and "Crow" were enough to make him jump.
He had kept this matter in mind since the day before, without knowing exactly what it was about.
He quickly puts his clothes in order, then decides to go and buy a newspaper.
Arriving near the door, he takes a deep breath.
He straightened his clothes, adopted an almost forced calm expression, then left with measured steps towards the young newspaper vendor who kept shouting.
The boy didn't notice Furen approaching. He was busy selling his newspapers, collecting the money and giving back the change with a quick gesture, while occasionally blaring out his thunderous announcements.
"One edition, please," Furen said in a neutral, almost icy voice.
The boy looked up. His client's face was disturbingly pale, but he didn't ask any questions.
Caution, he had informed him the hard way: too much curiosity could be costly.
He was a smart kid, already noticed by the editorial staff for his ability to observe people and bring back valuable information.
He handed over the newspaper as quickly as he could, inadvertently noting the face of this singular buyer.
Furen after having the newspaper, Furen didn't pay much attention to it and returned to his small villa at a pace he thought was normal, but in reality, faster than most of the people around.
As soon as he got home, he stopped himself from immediately throwing himself into the text.
He rushed to his sun-drenched office, feverishly unfolded the newspaper on the table, and searched for the day's front page.
The article was not long: one page divided into three sections: the first traced the history of the Crow family, the second described the facts, and the third reported the speculations and the reaction of the police services.
When he finished reading, Furen collapsed into his chair.
According to the report, all members of the Crow family, except Reeve, were killed shortly after the start of a family gathering.
The descriptions, though vague, suggested that the victims had been necromancerated after their death.
Furen had no fears for his own safety. Mr. Reeve had everything planned.
Each meeting was held in a different villa, with a different group of servants, and after each meeting, he would carefully erase the servants' memories with a sealed object, erasing all traces of the participants.
This extreme, almost morbid caution had often been mentioned by his own people.
Furen himself was once excessive...
But now he understood: this was the reality of the Abraham family, a fallen line who lived as "wild" Beyonders.
The only difference between the Abrahams and the independent Beyonders was that the former still had some heritage, some foundation.
Furen feels a dull ache not for himself, but for Reeve, and for the cruelty of the Demon Sect.
Not all members of the Crow clan were Beyonders.
Reeve had always hoped that some of Abraham's descendants might live as mere humans, free from the curse, and that at least the clan's blood might survive, even without glory.
But in a single night, everyone who had any blood or marriage connection to Mr. Reeve was massacred, without distinction.
For a moment, Fren thought long and hard...
In his heart, always animated by a certain nonchalance, he had never known such a cruel event for the first time, he felt a real attachment born in him for this Abraham family, which until then had been for him only a name.
Their rebirth has become, in his mind, a silent wish.
The once-glorious family had fallen under a curse, surrounded by enemies infinitely more powerful than themselves. There were those who shirked their responsibilities, and those who feigned ignorance, but there were also heroes, yes, and there were also those who foolishly clung to their former glory. Furen refused to bury that forever, for now, Abraham was also his family name.
A traveler from elsewhere, rooted under a borrowed identity, a stranger, certainly, but ready to risk his life for her. In this place, his lonely heart had finally found shelter.
His thoughts, long suppressed, were suddenly released.
Who would want to remain in exile forever, waiting without knowing how many years will pass?
Although Furen did not accept the promise of future miracles like others, or even directly digest the potion, Furen felt a little better.
The traveler's state of mind is incomprehensible to those confined to a familiar environment. Travel, encounters, strangers, unfamiliar landscapes and events: these unforeseen events can be depressing.
In his previous life, Furen was a homebody, willing to share his joys with his family, while also sharing their sorrows and joys. Although Furen constantly sought solutions to his own uncertainties, his busy schedule did not alleviate his loneliness.
Bathed in sunlight, Furen couldn't help but cry. On the one hand, he felt sadness for Abraham's tragedy, but on the other, he rejoiced at having found his own reason for being, a mixture of joy and sadness.
Furen wasn't one to cry much, and he prided himself on being strong and emotionless. So, after crying his heart out and letting his grief subside, he felt a little too ridiculous.
"I'm supposed to be a cold, heartless traveler, Traveler A… How could I cry so quickly?
"It must be the Furen of this body that is crying, not me," he grumbled inwardly.
But he suddenly thought of the mental disturbances that had made Klein shudder, and, sighing, finally said to himself:
"Well... okay, I'm the one who cried. Too bad."
This little inner drama only lasts a few minutes.
A mental comedy, worthy of the "Trinity of Fugitives".
Back on topic, Furen still had to focus on digesting his own potion, and even on his own safety. After all, he didn't know much about mysticism, and he risked being unmasked. That danger lay in Heideline, the witch who had looked at his face.
(End of chapter)