Chapitre 121: Decision II
Luke arrived at a bar that was far from the center of Jericho. The building had a worn-out wooden facade, with two swinging doors, the classic kind from old western saloons, barely hanging from their rusty hinges—a faint light filtered through the dirty windows, signaling that the place was open.
'Am I in the Wild West?' Luke thought as he walked toward the entrance.
He pushed the doors, which creaked loudly. Upon entering, he could see the inside of the bar. It wasn't huge. The floor was made of old wood that creaked underfoot.
There were a couple of dirty circular tables with their respective chairs. Only one table was being used by five people who were playing poker, smoking, and drinking alcohol.
At the very back was the bar with stools to sit on and order a drink from the bartender, who was wiping a glass with a rag that seemed to be making it dirtier rather than cleaning it.
The six adults, with their fierce looks and outcast appearances, turned their heads and looked at Luke. They thought they'd find some of their late-arriving colleagues, but instead, they saw a kid who could have been anyone's son.
Luke kept a stoic expression as he walked steadily toward the bar. Sitting on a stool, he raised some dust and looked at the bartender, who had frozen in place, staring at him with a confused expression.
The others were just as confused, so they had fallen silent. What was a high school kid doing in this bar so far from the center of Jericho?
"A little sake," Luke said, breaking the silence and tapping the bar as he got lost in his thoughts.
"We don't serve brats here. Go back to your parents," the bartender growled, his voice rough and raspy. It would be bad for his rundown bar to get into trouble with the authorities because a teenager showed up there.
"Aren't you that writer—"
A bald man, who had started to get up from his chair and walk toward Luke, fell unconscious before he could finish his sentence.
'Sleep,' Luke thought. The other four men at the table fell asleep in their seats.
The bartender was startled by this, but before he could react, he realized he was losing control over his body and thoughts.
"Sake," Luke repeated. Of course, he was using mind control on these normies.
"I don't have sake. I can offer you whiskey, rum, tequila, or vodka," the bartender replied in a monotone voice, his gaze blank.
"What do you recommend, old man?" Luke asked, looking at Edgar, who was floating beside him.
"Vodka," Edgar answered without hesitation.
"I'm surprised you haven't tried alcohol until now," Edgar added, shaking his head. He had witnessed several invitations to secret parties at Nevermore that Luke had turned down.
"Do you want me to get drunk and be an easier target to kill? I would've been an easy target for Sabrina last year," Luke said.
"Whatever, just order the vodka," Edgar replied, and Luke ordered it from the bartender, who placed small shot glasses in a horizontal line. Then he took out a glass bottle with a clear liquid and poured the vodka into each of the small glasses.
After serving the alcohol, the bartender stood still, saying nothing, waiting for Luke's orders as he stared at the shot glasses.
Luke picked one up and drank it. He tasted the vodka. A very bad idea. A look of disgust appeared on his face, making Edgar laugh.
"Don't taste the vodka! It's probably cheap, so it must have a stronger taste," Edgar said, laughing.
"You could've said that earlier. How many of these will it take to get me drunk?" Luke asked curiously. He had never been drunk in his life. He didn't know what the effect would be like.
"As an outcast, you're more resistant to alcohol, but you're not immune. It's hard to say for sure. Just keep drinking," Edgar responded, and Luke continued drinking vodka in silence, while in his mind he had a major debate.
Wednesday or Enid? That's the question.
Polygamy isn't an option for several reasons. First, Luke wouldn't like having two girlfriends—it would be strange for him, and he wouldn't be able to handle taking care of two.
Second, there's Enid and Wednesday. Luke is almost certain that neither of the two girls would accept polygamy. Enid is jealous and territorial. She's shown that many times. As for Wednesday, although she hasn't openly shown jealousy, she has expressed some anger toward the promise Luke has with Enid.
Besides, Wednesday is a narcissist. Luke thinks her narcissism surpasses his own. She would never accept sharing anything—or anyone. She grew up with two loving parents who have a monogamous relationship.
After all, polygamy in the outcast society is used for offspring, not for true love. They're not living in a high-school-romance-harem anime.
While thinking about these things, he finished all the vodka-filled shot glasses. He glanced at the shelf full of alcohol bottles. A bottle labeled whiskey caught his attention. With a slight motion of his hand, one of the small glasses disappeared, replaced by the whiskey bottle.
'Shambles, a very convenient technique,' Luke thought with a satisfied smile as he looked at the whiskey bottle in front of him.
He never thought he could replicate the Shambles technique used by Law in One Piece.
To replicate this technique, Luke used his white and yellow aura. By expanding his domain, Luke essentially replicates Law's ROOM. He can sense the presence of others and objects even without seeing them with his eyes.
Once his domain is expanded, he uses a technique called clairvoyance sensitivity. This is the primary technique of clairvoyance, which gives him the ability to feel the texture of objects he examines, even probing them to identify the material of the object. He must choose two objects using this technique, allowing him to have precise control over the space and the two objects he selected.
The final step is to use telekinesis for the exchange of positions between objects. With a clear understanding of the layout, thanks to clairvoyance, he can instantly move an object from its current location to a new one, while the object in the other position moves to the original spot.
This is also applicable to humans. Luke had used this technique to dodge Atlas's final charge by swapping places with a small leaf.
Now he had his teleportation technique. Although he still needed more practice for it to feel like actual teleportation. With his 20-kilometer domain, he could potentially teleport over great distances in the future, but it's more difficult when the objects are farther apart.
Just as Luke was about to grab the bottle to pour himself some shots of whiskey, a hairy hand beat him to it. Confused, he looked at the bartender, who was now moving on his own, even though Luke hadn't given him any orders.
The bartender was a burly man with a large belly. He had a scruffy beard, and his hands were hairy.
The bartender opened the bottle with surprising skill, and as he did, Luke felt a familiar presence. The man's voice sounded more firm and confident than he remembered.
"I see you're divided, caught between two dilemmas," said the bartender with a crooked smile as he filled Luke's glass.
'Did my mind control wear off?' Luke thought. He instantly noticed that the chatty ghost of his grandfather had vanished. An idea crossed his mind. Could Edgar be controlling the bartender?
"I didn't know you could control normies. Feels like something out of The Exorcist," Luke commented.
Edgar, in the bartender's body, poured Luke a drink and took one for himself. "An old-school trick, kid. And speaking of that, let's get back to the point. You're overcomplicating this whole love thing."
"It's more complicated than you think," Luke said with a sigh.
Edgar, still in the bartender's body, raised an eyebrow as he poured himself another drink, a mischievous smile on his face. "Here's my first piece of advice. Why limit yourself to choosing between one or the other? If you like both, why not keep both?" he said, bringing the glass to his lips without hesitation.
"The Poe family will thrive if you have two such talented wives. A pure lineage of a werewolf and a talented psychic like you who possesses two auras. You could convince them if they both like you. Don't get stuck in a decision that has an easy solution," Edgar added with a playful grin.
"I know what you're trying to do, old man. But I hate to break it to you, that's not going to work. So thanks, but no, I don't want two girlfriends. That's just not for me," Luke said, taking the glass and tasting the whiskey for the first time. Once he finished, he gestured for Edgar to pour him another.
Edgar let out a hearty laugh but didn't seem bothered. "I see I won't convince you to take that route. Fine, if that's what you want," he said with a shrug, pouring himself another drink and refilling Luke's glass.
"Now, if we're discarding that option... the question is, which one are you going to choose? I think the answer is pretty obvious, don't you?"
Luke leaned back in his seat, pretending to focus deeply, placing his hands on his forehead in an exaggerated gesture, as if trying to read Edgar's mind. "Let me guess your thoughts..." he said theatrically. "You... want me to choose Wednesday. Right?"
Edgar nodded with a smile, amused by his great-great-grandson's little performance. Luke slapped the bar, satisfied with himself. "I didn't even have to use my blue aura! Maybe I should become a fortune teller," he joked before downing another shot of whiskey. It seemed the alcohol was already affecting his behavior.
Edgar laughed at Luke's antics and poured more whiskey into both of their glasses.
"Wednesday understands you better than anyone, you know that. She's like you. You're not afraid of her, and she's not afraid of you. With her, you can be yourself... always," Edgar said.
Luke set the glass down on the bar, staring at the golden liquid. Edgar was right, and he knew it. With Enid, he had always been afraid to show his darker side, so to speak. Though he didn't really think of it as that dark. He was only like that with his enemies—it's not like he was a psychopath or a serial killer.
"With Wednesday, I don't have to pretend. She accepts me as I am, darkness and all. But Enid... she showed me a side of myself I didn't know. She made me feel... more human, I guess," Luke said, slowly turning the glass in his hands.
Edgar tilted his head, his gaze becoming more inquisitive. "And which side do you prefer, Luke? The one that embraces you for who you are... or the one that forces you to be something you may not be able to maintain?"
Luke frowned. He remembered the scared look in Enid's eyes on the night of the lunar eclipse. At that moment, he felt like a bond between them had broken. Enid had taken a couple of days to contact him again, perhaps thinking of canceling their promise or something similar.
Enid had been his first crush, the first person who made him feel something beyond the loneliness that had always surrounded him. That's why it was so hard for him to let her go. But deep down, he knew something had changed between them, something he couldn't fix. He couldn't forget the way she looked at him that night—with fear, as if he were something dangerous.
'The decision is made,' Luke thought firmly, downing the glass in one swift motion. His expression returned to normal, free from the earlier worry.
In that moment, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a release that brought unexpected relief.
"It looks like you've made a decision," Edgar said, watching Luke's face.
"Yeah. Want to know what it is?" Luke asked with a slight smile, knowing that Edgar was dying of curiosity.
"No need. I'll see it on the front page soon enough," Edgar replied, shaking his head. He didn't know exactly what decision Luke had made, but whatever it was, Edgar would be fine with it.
He only wanted to help his descendant. Of course, Edgar had a more favorable opinion of Wednesday, but he had been honest in their conversation. He hadn't just thought about the Poe lineage or the optimal resurgence of their fallen family.
He had given his honest opinion. He had observed Luke with both Enid and Wednesday, and he believed his descendant was happier and more genuine with the gothic girl.
"Thanks... for the talk," Luke said with some difficulty. This conversation had been very good for him.
"It's nothing. Luckily, we managed to solve the problem before this body reached its limit," Edgar said as he exited the normie's body, which had turned a sickly pale color. The bartender collapsed to the floor, his face resembling that of a terminal patient, trembling.
'Hey, don't bring me any more problems,' Luke thought, peering over the bar to check on the bartender. The best thing to do was to get out quickly, after erasing the memories of these normies.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone