Chapter: 7

"Okay." Lumian was very receptive to other people's correct opinions.

He closed the wooden door and knocked lightly.

"Hey, is anyone there? I came in without answering." His voice was low, as if he was talking to himself at night.

There was silence in the church.

The next second, Lumian pushed the door open again and pointed inside:

"go in."

Ryan originally wanted to refuse, but looking at the deep darkness behind the door, after a few seconds of meditation, he exchanged glances with his companion.

"Okay." He took a step forward, slowly but firmly.

Lia and Valentine followed closely behind.

At this time, Liya's two boots and the four small silver bells on both sides of the veil did not make a sound.

In the gloomy environment, the four of them moved forward.

Suddenly, Ryan stopped and said in a low voice:

"There seems to be some sound?"

"Yes." Lumian agreed deeply.

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly pushed aside, and opened another door with a bang.

It seemed to be the confessional room of a church. Dim starlight streamed in, revealing a simple low bed and a naked, strong man.

The mature man was pressing on a white woman's body.

For a moment, everyone was stunned, including the strong man and the lady under him.

A few seconds later, the strong man turned his head and roared at Ryan and the others:

"Son of a bitch, you're undermining the operation of the Holy Church!"

In the reverberating roar, Lumian, who had moved behind Ryan and the others, waved his hand, and said with a smile very fast:

"It seems that we have found the curate, my cabbages, see you tomorrow!"

In the middle of speaking, he turned around and ran towards the side door, and the words behind were fluttering in the wind, getting lower and lower.

At this moment, a sentence appeared in the minds of Liya, Ryan and Valentine at the same time.

What the middle-aged man named Pierre Guillaume said:

"This kid is the most prankster in the village, you must stay away from him..."

…………

Under the starlight falling from the sky, Lumian whistled.

With his hands in his pockets, he walked leisurely on the country road.

"The curate is indeed having an affair with Madame Pouaris.