“Knock, knock, knock!”
Happening just as she struggled over the backyard fence, a rapid knocking at the door startled Ghervil.
“Open the door quickly! It’s already noon, and if you open it now, I promise I won’t bandage your behind.”
Realizing it was the doctor, she rolled her eyes from the backyard, across the living room, and chose to ignore the summons.
Her current state was hardly suitable for receiving guests.
The roasted venison shop was a public place; she couldn’t possibly give herself a thorough wipe-down with a wet towel there.
The bloodstains in her hair, the grime on her body, the sweat—only after a comfortable hot shower upstairs, washing away all evidence, would she be presentable enough to step out.
Therefore, she could only try her best to avoid making any noise, hoping the rude individual outside would assume no one was home.
Removing her long dress nearby, she dropped it into a basin of water, remaining clad only in her undergarments and torn nylon stockings.
Her plan was to first find some of the abbess’s old clothes to put on, then heat water for a bath.
She wanted to take off her stockings, but then she would be wearing far too little.
While it would be cool, the surge of embarrassment was undeniable.
An added benefit was that walking in stockings produced virtually no sound.
The old clothes were all stored in the second-floor storeroom, meaning she would have to pass through the ground-floor hall to retrieve them.
“Knock, knock, knock!”
As she tiptoed into the hall, the renewed knocking at the door tightened her body and mind once more.
It felt as though she were a thief in her own home.
Exasperated, she resolved that even after all evidence was destroyed, she would not open the door for this impertinent neighbor.
Such was her original plan.
Yet, before she could even step onto the first stair, she never imagined the door would swing open so effortlessly.
She had no time to react; the woman’s voice and the sound of the lock turning occurred simultaneously.
“I know you’re in there. If you don’t open the door, I’ll let myself in.”
As an outside light spilled into the hall, the air seemed to solidify—or, more precisely, only Ghervil herself froze.
Dr. Callan leaned against the doorframe, utterly shameless, her mouth forming a small ‘O’ of surprise.
“Oh, what a lovely bree—”
Noticing the young woman’s expression was amiss, her gaze quickly shifted from above to her legs, still appreciative, before she hastily corrected herself,
“I mean… style! So you like this kind of… well, the tattered look pairs better with black.
I have some, though… the designs aren’t quite so daring.
Would you like a few pairs?”
“…”
“Wait! Don’t get ahead of yourself!”
“I was just telling the truth. Alright, I was wrong! But I want to know what I did wro—”
“Get out, now!!!”
A large stool flew directly at Dr. Callan’s face.
Though she wished to dodge, she feared breaking the stool would displease the young woman even more, so she gritted her teeth and caught it with her hands.
The result was that both she and the stool were sent flying out of unit 101.
“Bang!”
The heavy door slammed shut.
Supporting herself with the stool, Dr. Callan groaned as she slowly rose from the ground.
A twinge of guilt struck her; she hadn’t expected the nun to be so conservative, unwilling even to be seen by another woman.
“She truly showed no mercy, but… it might have been worth it.”
She savored the memory of the sight: seeing it firsthand, it was even fuller than she had imagined, with excellent proportions where curves were generously bestowed.
As she lifted the stool, she had even observed a considerable sway.
Only the undergarments were a bit ill-fitting, creating mysterious and alluring indentations where they met her skin.
Truthfully, what also captivated her was that small face, which remained remarkably beautiful even when angry.
She had never encountered such a stunning girl, more beautiful than even the most meticulously groomed children of nobility.
This thought had occurred to her the very first time she discovered her in the cellar.
While the nun was unconscious, she had secretly pinched her cheeks several times.
They were fair and delicate, soft and elastic, untouched by perfumes or cosmetics—a natural beauty that had blossomed to this extent.
Perhaps she had never left the abbey since childhood, shielded from wind, rain, and sun.
Everyone develops a natural, innocent fondness for lovely and beautiful things, and she was no exception.
Fumbling in her pocket for a moment and finding nothing, she looked around and discovered the key had fallen to the ground, causing her distress once more.
“How can I possibly placate her…?”
****
Half an hour later, perched on a high stool, Ghervil felt the hot water cascade over her hair and body, the physical relaxation gradually calming her mind.
A flicker of regret stirred within her.
She couldn’t fathom where she had found the strength to hurl the stool so far.
Reflecting now, the doctor hadn’t intended to see anything; it was merely an accident.
Had it not been for her original gender identity… it wouldn’t even count as an accident.
And hadn’t that person actually been complimenting her…?
Slowly, she glanced down, where two indistinct white forms shimmered beneath the misty steam.
Her face instantly flushed to the tips of her ears.
No, that wasn’t right.
Had her expression not halted the other woman in time, that person would undoubtedly have uttered even more impolite remarks.
Still, it wasn’t necessary to have hit someone so solidly with a stool…
She had chosen a rather poor method of handling the situation.
Dr. Callan was also a girl, just a bit taller.
Getting hit must have hurt terribly.
Had she perhaps gone too far?
“I’ve left the hot water outside. Do you need more? If not, I’ll go heat some more.”
Hearing the voice from outside, she increasingly felt she had overreacted and made too much of the situation.
They were neighbors; they might frequently cross paths in the future, so maintaining a good relationship was essential.
Her anger had largely dissipated.
“That’s enough. I’m not so delicate that merely being seen requires multiple baths. Just leave it outside; I’ll fetch it myself later.”
‘Not delicate,’ Dr. Callan thought.
‘This was already the third basin of hot water.’
‘Including the cold water added, I’ve never seen anyone waste so much water bathing.’
Despite these thoughts, Dr. Callan’s actions were quite different; without a hint of ill intent, she dutifully left the room, extinguished the stove fire downstairs, and waited patiently.
After another twenty minutes, she finally saw the young woman, clad in an extremely ill-fitting, plain grey long dress, slowly descending the stairs.
To illustrate just how ill-fitting it was, even with her hand lifting the hem, a portion of the skirt still pooled on the floor.
It was clear, without a doubt, that this was a dress once worn by the abbess.
Her descent down the stairs became a cautious, step-by-step affair, one hand lifting the hem of her skirt, the other gripping the banister.
Dr. Callan found it somewhat amusing but dared not laugh, silently praying in her heart that Ghervil wouldn’t trip.
Judging by her expression, Ghervil seemed no longer angry, though it was impossible to be entirely certain.
Having successfully navigated the stairs, Ghervil settled onto the sofa and spoke directly, getting straight to the point,
“How do you have a key to my house?”
Surprisingly, the atmosphere was devoid of awkwardness.
Dr. Callan shrugged and handed over the key,
“Under the third floorboard from left to right by the door. I saw you put it there last night when you came home.”
“What else did you see… just now?”
Ghervil was now more concerned about whether the lingering bloodstains in her hair, and the missing section of it, had been noticed.
“I wouldn’t mind looking, but you certainly wouldn’t allow it. So, I saw nothing. Does that answer satisfy you?” The woman watched her, arms crossed, a feigned look of helplessness on her face.
“You have your own; why are you always so eager to look at mine?”
Ghervil, instead of growing angry, chuckled.
Dr. Callan likely hadn’t seen anything.
A normal person wouldn’t have the energy to pay such close attention to subtle changes on another’s body, nor would they have nothing better to do.
The excuse she had given earlier was merely to deceive Officer Franz.
“If you’re referring to sneaking out through the backyard this morning, I can pretend not to know.” Dr. Callan’s next words froze the smile on Ghervil’s face.
“You’re not normal! No! You… you’re… you’re really sent by the Order!?”
Dr. Callan was amused by the young woman’s flustered, incoherent reaction.
She reached out and vigorously ruffled Ghervil’s still-damp hair,
“Only just figured that out, have you?”
Her hand slid down from Ghervil’s hair, then pinched a small bit of flesh on that incredulous face.
“It’s quite rude to call someone ‘not normal.’ But don’t worry, I’m not that petty. I won’t tell your cooking teacher about you sneaking out.”