365 Observation
The ambiance at the Red House Café radiated a small-town charm. Enamelware utensils, wooden-framed decorative paintings, checkered tablecloths, and exposed ceiling beams gave it a simple yet elegant vibe, a striking contrast to its vibrant and trendy exterior.

Franca, seated by the window, ordered a cup of fragrant Intis coffee and basked in the sunlight.

With a casual glance around, she observed the clientele and waitstaff.

Most of them were women, particularly the waitresses, and their attire and graceful movements indicated specialized training.

Only two men, seemingly foreign wine merchants, sat across from each other, discussing the impact of this year’s abundant rain and sunlight on grape quality. Among the three female patrons, one was a local elderly woman with gray hair, dressed modestly, occasionally greeting passersby. Another was in her thirties, wearing a veiled black hat and a blue corset dress, her features fairly ordinary. The third, a striking beauty with delicate eyebrows, had naturally cascading brown hair in wavy curls, dressed simply, and exuded a calm demeanor.

Apart from the local elderly lady, the other two might be participants in the orgies. Franca turned her attention away, thinking that the first floor, with a dozen or so tables, didn’t seem like the place for such private affairs.

Her guess was that it might be happening in the basement or on an upper floor closer to the distinctive red mushroom roof.

From Franca’s vantage point, she had a clear view of the café’s entrance. Lumian, in his brownish-yellow dog form, lay there quietly, soaking up the sun and keeping a close eye on everyone entering and exiting the Red House Café, as well as the patrons and waitresses inside.

No one paid much attention to the wild dog by the roadside, except for a few stray dogs that passed by.

One of them bared its teeth at Lumian, who occupied his usual spot, and growled menacingly.

Lumian felt somewhat helpless. Could he really engage in a dogfight in his current form?

This wasn’t a significant concern for him, but what mattered was that the Animal Creation Spell had sealed most of his Beyonder powers, reducing his strength to that of a dog.

Of course, given his size as a large dog, intimidating smaller canines was a breeze. However, the dog growling at him was also quite substantial, albeit on the thin side.

Fight! Fight! Franca couldn’t contain her excitement as she watched the scene unfold through the window.

She had no intention of intervening; it was a rare opportunity to witness Lumian in such an awkward situation. How could she resist the spectacle?

Lumian, sprawled by the door, raised his right palm—no, his right foreleg. Drawing from past experiences, he focused a portion of his consciousness on his paw.

A faint sense of madness and a scent of blood, perceptible only to Lumian, hung in the air.

The brown-furred dog, its skeletal frame visible, was taken aback and hastily retreated with its tail between its legs.

Oh… Come on! Be more daring! Why run away? Franca, inside the Red House Café, was left disappointed.

She couldn’t fathom why the dog had suddenly become afraid of Lumian.

The Hunter couldn’t unleash his full powers—he could exude an aura of provocation at best!

Simultaneously, Lumian chuckled self-deprecatingly.

If The Blood Emperor ever found out that I used His aura to scare off dogs, He might just skin me alive, wouldn’t He?
After the brief interlude, Franca refocused her attention on the café.

Drawing from her experience and observations in fashion magazines, she gracefully sipped her coffee and occasionally performed everyday actions that highlighted her feminine charm, all learned over the past year.

It didn’t escape her notice that nearly everyone in the café had their eyes on her. Some glanced discreetly, while others openly admired her, some even offering warm smiles.

The elderly local lady, who had been seated nearby, smiled at Franca, picked up honey-roasted chicken wings from her plate, and made her way out of the Red House Café.

Stopping in front of Lumian, she mumbled to herself in amazement, “It’s another one…”

Lumian had an uneasy feeling as he watched the old lady squat down and offer the brownish-yellow roasted chicken wing to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he bit into the chicken wing like a real dog, allowing the old lady to stroke his furry head.

Truth be told, he wasn’t accustomed to eating like a dog, but fortunately, the old lady stood up and departed after a couple of affectionate strokes.

Inside the Red House Café, Franca couldn’t help but burst into laughter as she watched Lumian awkwardly nibble at the chicken wings. Unable to resist her amplified emotions, her body trembled with laughter.

If she didn’t need to maintain her image, she might have doubled over in laughter.

She also wanted to take something to feed Lumian!

In her natural state, Franca’s true charisma shone through. Her black hair, brown eyes, and effortless elegance captivated those around her, giving her a unique and magnetic presence in the café.

The mysterious charm of her black hair and brown eyes, along with her elegant and casual demeanor, made her uniquely attractive.

At that moment, a woman wearing a light-colored hunting suit rode up on a brown horse from the nearby racetrack near East Lognes Forest.

She skillfully dismounted and removed her hat.

Her long, orange-red hair flowed like a waterfall, adding a touch of wildness to her otherwise clean, pure, and exquisite face.

Carrying a whip, the woman in the hunting attire secured her horse and made her way into the Red House Café. She approached the quiet and beautiful young woman.

Franca had ceased her laughter at Lumian’s antics and couldn’t help but feel that this new arrival seemed more like a participant in the orgies than anyone else present.

Despite being the most beautiful with exquisitely delicate features that gave her an innocent appearance, there was an aura about her that could easily pass for that of a man.

There was likely to be someone like her at a female orgy.

Franca elegantly raised her right hand and brushed back the black hair that had fallen across her lips, subtly displaying her own feminine charm.

The woman with long orange-red hair, who had been unconsciously surveying the café’s occupants, appeared visibly taken aback, as if she had been momentarily stunned.

However, Lumian, who had been lying quietly by the entrance, noticed a slight furrow in the woman’s brow after her initial surprise.

She averted her gaze and continued her approach toward the quietly elegant woman with wavy hair. They engaged in light banter before they ascended the wooden stairs to the second floor amidst some chatter.

Franca observed them from the corner of her eye and began to form a rough idea.

There is a strong likelihood that these two are indeed participants in the female orgies, though whether they belonged to the Moment Society or the Narcissus Society remains uncertain.

Franca continued to sip her coffee leisurely, deliberately making no move.

After more than half an hour had passed, and with no sign of the women descending, she decided to leave her seat and walked out of Red House Café.

She planned to call it a day, so as to not risk arousing suspicion by approaching them too hastily.

Her plan was to maintain her cover as a resident of the nearby Lavigny Docks and return to Trocadéro every two or three days, or even more frequently. After all, this area was renowned for its wine production and scenic beauty, attracting numerous tourists daily. It would be entirely plausible for a lady who had recently moved nearby to explore the area.

Lumian, stationed at the entrance of the Red House Café, appeared disinterested, as though he had no connection to Franca’s actions.

Almost simultaneously, his sharp senses detected the beautiful woman with long orange-red hair standing behind a glass window on the second floor.

The woman observed Franca’s departing figure with a solemn, vigilant, and contemplative expression, devoid of any apparent homosexual romantic interest.

Why is there such a reaction? Did she discover something amiss with Franca? How did she discover it? Lumian felt puzzled as he stood up, as if he had soaked up enough sun, and moved to the alley between the Red House Café and the neighboring building, which was closer to Franca’s departure direction.

Before long, the woman with long orange-red hair reappeared behind the second-floor window.

She carefully scanned her surroundings, confirming that no one was paying attention. There was only a brownish-yellow dog dozing off in a corner. Gently, she pushed open the window and gracefully descended to the alley below, as light as a feather.

Immediately after her descent, the woman with the clean and pure appearance blended into the shadows.

Lumian, pretending to be in a state of drowsiness, silently observed this unfolding scene, his mind racing.

Featherfall… Shadow Concealment… Beauty… Remarkable charisma… Could she be a Demoness?

Was it precisely because she is also a Demoness that she sensed something unusual about Franca’s appearance and demeanor, prompting her to follow and observe?

Lumian discreetly stood up and began to follow Franca from a distance, giving the appearance of a leisurely stroll.

The orange-red-haired woman remained hidden in the shadows, elusive and difficult to pinpoint. Lumian couldn’t ascertain her exact location, but he was certain that she was not far from Franca.

Franca, playing her part convincingly, didn’t seem in a hurry to leave Trocadéro. She embraced the role of a tourist, visiting the nearest vineyard, sampling the free red wine at a shop, and purchasing some regional specialties.

Just before noon, Franca entered the town’s upscale department store and began trying on various styles of women’s clothing.

As Lumian watched, nearly fifteen minutes later, he lost sight of Franca. It was then that he observed the clean-looking woman in hunting attire emerging from the shadows in a corner of the department store, her eyes scanning the surroundings.

Franca had successfully shaken her pursuer.

Lumian’s guileless dog face lit up with a gratified smile.

The final stage of today’s operation, getting rid of the would-be stalker, had been executed flawlessly. Franca, with Lie’s assistance and her ability to counter divination, had done a commendable job!

She must have utilized the shoppers in the department store, changing into a different set of clothing as a ruse, transformed herself, and exited openly to evade detection.

After the woman in the hunting attire returned to the Red House Café, Lumian left Trocadéro and made his way toward Quartier Éraste.

While still in his canine form, he intended to explore the vicinity of Red Swan Castle.

Guillaume Bénet’s Animal Creation Spell had a duration of seven days, after which it would naturally dissipate, requiring a new ritual.

As Lumian had anticipated, Red Swan Castle stood atop the hill, its beige exterior tainted with the marks of age-old blood. It stood in eerie silence, surrounded by a small river.

Lumian conducted a few circles around the area before arriving at the closest church building—the Sacred Heart Cloister of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church.

Beneath the shade of the green trees, he squatted quietly and gazed at the magnificent golden building adorned with steeples.

During his observation, Lumian couldn’t help but notice a golden retriever squatting more than ten meters away, its attention also fixed on the Sacred Heart Cloister.