The people who frequented the basement bar had been numb to Charlie's lecture on "what is a decent person and what is a civilized person", and they were all very excited to have the opportunity to play tricks on that guy, and they shouted louder than the other.

Dressed in a white shirt and open black vest, Charlie hesitated whether to pay for a drink or a striptease to nearly thirty people.

Quickly, he put down the beer in his hand and jumped onto a small round table.

When he used to get drunk here, what stupid thing hadn't he done, what was there to be afraid of striptease?

Lumien smiled and applauded, took out a 20 filgin bill, slapped it on the bar, and said to the owner Pavard. Nissen Road:

"Everyone has a drink, and they drink whatever they like."

After saying that, he picked up the cup and watched Charlie twist his crotch awkwardly and carefully unbutton his shirt in the midst of a cheer.

"Intense! Be rough!" Lumian shouted in a lively tone.

Other drinkers followed suit.

Charlie was dripping with sweat on his forehead, fearing that the violent tearing of his clothes would damage his shirt.

This is not a cheap old linen shirt!

He thought about it, and while the buttons on his shirt had been unbuttoned, he simply took off his sweater.

Lumian took another sip of Ronzi, sat back at the bar, looked at Gabriel, who was wearing black-rimmed glasses and dark suspenders, and asked amusedly:

"So early today?"

Didn't this playwright, who used to stay up late, come here for a drink after the wee hours of the morning?

Gabriel held the green vermouth and smiled calmly:

"I'm moving out tomorrow."

"The Light Chaser" is staged?" Lumian suddenly had a guess.

Gabriel rubbed his messy brown hair and smiled:

"Not yet, but after rehearsing for a while, both Mr. Lopp and the director and actors of the Revival Theatre are very optimistic and confident, and I don't have to worry about how I will live after moving to a more expensive place and spending the 1,000 Filkin advance for my manuscript, you know, I don't write vulgar and shoddy stories for those tabloids anymore."

"Where are you going to move?" Lumien asked casually.

Gabriel said with a look of longing:

"Rue Saint-Michel in the 2nd arrondissement, where many writers and painters lived, and not far from the National Museum, the Trier Art Center, all kinds of galleries and sculptures of all shapes."

Zone 2, also known as the Art District or Financial District, is half old and cultural, and half is a luxury building that has been popular in the last decade or so, and is home to the headquarters of financial institutions such as the Central Bank of Intis, the Bank of Trier, the Bank of Suhit, and the Asset Credit Bank, as well as the Trier Stock Exchange and the Intis Futures Market.

Rue Saint-Michel is the most marginal street in the arrondissement, with relatively cheap rents, which attracted many writers and painters to settle down.

"What a place, maybe throw a brick down and smash three writers and two painters, oh, and the poets who are dead and no one finds out." Lumian recalls Aurel's ridicule of rue Saint-Michel and speaks it in his own words, not forgetting to satirize the poorest group of poets.

Gabriel took an embarrassed sip of absinthe:

"But it's really the best place to communicate and create, unlike here, where it's only relatively quiet at night, but it's only relative, and there are nasty bugs..."

Speaking of this, Gabriel suddenly remembered that the gang leader next to him, who was both rough and fierce, but also humane, was the current owner of the Golden Rooster Hotel, and quickly closed his mouth.

At this time, Charlie finished stripping, put on his shirt again, squeezed out of the drinkers who "maliciously" commented on his figure, sat down next to Lumian, and said as if casually:

"I've been so busy lately, I haven't been here for a few days, and I want to sleep as soon as I get home, look, look, this is the trouble of being a decent person, hey, how can you suddenly think of a large-scale investigation of a wanted criminal from Kordu Village?"

Yo, a lot smarter? Lumian, who intends to practice his way of speaking, responds with a smile:

"The things of the village of Cordu and my Shire. What does Dubois have to do with it?"

After contracting the "Face of Nisser" from the "Face of the Human Face Mantis", he was not too worried about being officially recognized.

Seeing that Lumian was full of confidence, Charlie stopped mentioning the matter, and happily talked about the fact that he had been introduced to a female teacher by a colleague, and although the other party did not take a fancy to him, it also proved that he was one step closer to a truly decent person.

Drinking until the wee hours of the morning, Lumian and Gabriel, who had moved tomorrow, saw Charlie off and walked up the stairs to the second floor.

Gabriel looked at the walls of the corridor with only one gas lamp, newspapers and cheap pink paper, and suddenly sighed:

"When I was about to leave, I felt that there was something to remember here.

"When I first moved here, I thought that by my talent it wouldn't be long before I could get out of this rubbish heap, uh, hellish hotel, who knows, ten months in a stay, even if I moved to rue Saint-Michel, I would have thought often of the little bar that I could reach downstairs, of the absinthe that made me sober and intoxicated, of the pungent smell of sulfur, of the abominable bed bugs, of the people who gave me light in the darkness, Miss Savary, Charlie, and, you."

Gabriel paused as he spoke, reaching out to touch the crack in the wall where the newspaper had fallen off.

"Do you writers like to be suddenly lyrical and have long speeches?" Lumian scoffed.

Gabriel sneered:

"I don't know if other writers are like that, I do it occasionally.

"I've lived here for almost a year, and I've seen a lot of tenants disappear suddenly, or leave in a hurry, or end their lives in agony, but the next day, no, maybe just an hour later, new tenants will come and move into the rooms they left behind in order to chase the prosperity of Trier, to chase their dreams. Most of them have failed and disappeared like dust, but there will always be batches of people coming, and maybe one or two will succeed.

"That's where the inspiration for the Light Chaser script came from."

"You're the one who succeeded." Lumian remembered Mrs. Michelle, who hanged herself with the lyrics "This is the City of Joy, This is Eternal Trier", and was in no mood to mock Gabriel.

"Hope." Gabriel's face was filled with anticipation.

He took a new step and went up to the second floor, but he didn't stop, as if he was going to keep going.

"You're going?" Lumien could probably guess the answer, but asked politely anyway.

Gabriel pointed upstairs:

"Go and say goodbye to Miss Safari and thank her for always encouraging me."

Lumian smiled teasingly, pinched his lips with his hand, and whistled:

"Have a dream night!"

"I didn't!" Gabriel subconsciously denied it.

Lumian turned around, walked to room 207, waved his hand, and said:

"Can't one have a dream night?"

Gabriel was speechless.

After seeing Charles enter the room, he cleared his throat and continued to the third floor.

On the way, he remembered a lot of past events, including the first time he met the mannequin Savary, the first time he talked to her about creation, and the first time he was encouraged.....

He knew that mannequins were a low-paying profession, and the most popular male models were only eighty or ninety fergins a month, and the ordinary ones might be sixty or seventy, equivalent to intern waiters in hotels, while female models were only about forty fergins, and they couldn't support themselves at all, so they could only work as a part-time job, and there was no one who chose to expose their bodies and become painters because they were lazy and greedy for enjoyment.

The same is true of Safari, who endured criticism just to make a little more money and change her current situation.

Gabriel stopped outside room 309 and knocked softly on the door.

"Please come in." Safari's slightly hollow voice came out.

Gabriel pushed open the door and saw Safari standing at the wooden table in front of the window, her long blue dress slipping from her and piling up on the floor.

In the crimson moonlight, Savary's brown eyes fluttered, her brown hair was scattered, and her white body was inlaid with human faces one after another.

Some of them were gorgeous, some were hideous, some were handsome, some were vicious, and their eyes were all looking at Gabriel at the same time.

Gabriel was startled and almost screamed.

"What's the matter?" Savary's voice with a strong sense of detachment sounded again.

Gabriel suddenly came back to his senses, and realized that the faces were only near-real oil paintings, and the canvas was Safari's body.

Thinking that the other party's profession was a mannequin, Gabriel didn't ask much, and spat out:

"I'm moving out tomorrow, thank you for your encouragement over the past few months."

As soon as he finished speaking, Safari stretched out her right hand, and her eyes became misty.

Gabriel involuntarily walked in.

Half an hour later, Gabriel lay on the bed, hugged Safari, and said sincerely:

"Come with me to rue Saint-Michel."

Safari shook her head firmly:

"I'm moving out and going somewhere else."

Gabriel asked:

"Where to go?"

"Go to a place called 'Hostel' where my friends are." Safari's voice was a little hollow again.

Gabriel tried again and again, but was rejected by the mannequin.

He walked away in disgrace, and Safari got out of bed naked, and watched him walk to the door.

At this time, the red moon was obscured, the room was unusually dark, and the oil painting faces on Safari's body suddenly seemed to come to life, and they opened their mouths to Gabriel's back.

They finally calmed down, and Gabriel politely closed the door.

The next morning, as usual, Lumien ran and practiced boxing in search of breakfast.

When he returned to the Golden Rooster Hotel, he saw that Gabriel's room next door was open, and there was no one or luggage.

Curious, Lumian went up to the third floor and found that Room 309 was the same.

He suddenly let out a "tsk" and walked back to room 207 with a smile.

Shortly after, the "doll" messenger appeared, throwing the folded letter paper and a silver-white mask onto the wooden table.

The remuneration of the "just" lady is coming? Lumi was rejoiced.