Upon first glimpsing the woman in the distance, Ghervil was struck by a peculiar sensation: she was blind.
They were not far apart, perhaps seven or eight meters, allowing Ghervil to just discern that the woman’s deep grey pupils reflected no light whatsoever.
The woman stood beside a lamppost, clutching a silver metal briefcase.
Almost no passerby’s gaze lingered upon her.
Yet, her striking rose-purple hair and unusual purple lipstick should have drawn attention.
It was as if she were invisible.
The illusion of being watched stemmed from the woman’s subtly upturned lips; she was smiling.
Her smile was directed straight ahead, and perhaps it was merely their position, directly in front of her, that created the feeling of being scrutinized.
Clovie still hesitated, wondering whether to approach and offer an explanation, but a glance at the young woman beside her revealed a face utterly serene.
Right, Ghervil was affiliated with the religious order, thus absolved of concern about offending an agent from the Anti-Epidemic Bureau. Clovie, however, lacked such protection.
“Let’s go. She likely didn’t see us.”
“What are you saying…?” Clovie retorted, casting a vexed, bewildered look, suspecting Ghervil was merely humoring her.
“Didn’t you see her smiling right at us?”
“If I’m not mistaken, that leaning against the lamppost appears to be a white cane.”
‘It seems you’re right…’
Clovie then noticed the wooden cane propped against the lamppost, its handle crafted from exquisitely carved metal, possibly silver given its gleam.
A silver briefcase, a silver cane—surely this only further underscored that the woman’s identity was far from ordinary.
Still, Clovie faltered, indecisive, but Ghervil had no patience for it.
“Why don’t you go confront her? I’ll testify that you didn’t divulge any information to me.”
“Keep your voice down!” the female officer lamented, glaring at Ghervil. “Just my luck… If only I’d pretended not to see you earlier, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
With matters having reached this point, Clovie could only assume it was a misunderstanding, that the woman was indeed blind and hadn’t noticed them.
After another twenty minutes, they rounded a corner, and approximately a hundred meters ahead, perched atop a flight of steps, an ancient yet magnificent cathedral materialized.
Its towering bell tower and spire pierced through the mist, its grand marble arches beckoning, and the structure itself sprawled across an entire small plaza.
From this point onward, people formed long, orderly queues to enter.
“They say Mistfall Church boasts a history of over two centuries, housing the city’s largest statue of the Goddess. Its sheer size is considerable; the first time I entered as a child, I nearly got lost,” Clovie remarked, her voice brimming with pride as she introduced it from behind.
“It is indeed spectacular from the outside, but it still pales slightly in comparison to Ghervil Cathedral.”
She vividly recalled the profound awe Ghervil Cathedral had inspired in her, truly imbued with an aura of mystery; even the carved scenes on its walls and pillars were so lifelike, she would have believed they were direct renditions of actual events.
“Pfft… What was that? A cathedral built in your honor? Why have I never heard of it?”
The name of the cathedral uttered by the nun… The moment Clovie heard it, she couldn’t help but want to quip, nearly bursting into laughter.
“Of course you haven’t,” the young woman replied, turning to offer a smile that momentarily stunned Clovie.
“For that is a cathedral that exists only in dreams.”
‘It was also the cathedral that granted her a new lease on life.’
“…Even if what you say is true…”
Beholding such a comforting smile, Clovie felt her spirits lift considerably, the oppressive summer heat momentarily forgotten.
“It’s about time. I need to get back to work. Just follow the queue, and you’ll get in. If I weren’t working overtime today, I’d even drive you back after the service.”
“You should probably focus on finishing your work first. After slacking off for so long, others might grow resentful.”
Clovie grinned,
“You’re right. I’ll have to bring them some iced apple juice.”
With a wave of farewell, the two parted ways, and Ghervil joined the lengthy queue.
Perhaps owing to her attire or some other reason, those ahead in line, upon noticing a young nun behind them, invariably offered to let her pass. Unable to resist their earnest hospitality, she could only move forward.
In truth, she harbored not the slightest interest in the service; the entire process—boring, monotonous, standing motionless, head bowed in confession and prayer—struck her as pure self-inflicted torment.
She felt her time would be better spent paying more taxes. On her way here, she had spotted several richly dressed merchants, sporting small mustaches, portly bellies, and faces glistening with oil.
Just like the corpulent man ahead of her now, clad in a suit and tie.
He made no move to let her cut in, instead turning occasionally to cast her a disdainful glance.
Far from being displeased, she politely returned his gaze with a smile, for thanks to him, she wouldn’t have to thank each person individually for letting her pass.
The corpulent man had been about to utter something—perhaps along the lines of, “Why should I let you pass just because you’re young and a nun?”—but upon seeing her “response,” he sheepishly closed his half-open mouth.
Still, he had no intention of moving aside, shifting his bulky frame to the right, effectively blocking Ghervil’s view of the front.
?
‘She merely wished to admire the cathedral, not cut in line, sir…’
“Excuse me, are you Ghervil?”
A voice drifted from beside her; it was a young nun dressed in black clerical robes.
If she recalled correctly, this very nun had been maintaining order at the front just moments ago. How had she appeared here so suddenly?
“I am. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Excellent! We’ve been looking for you for quite some time. Please, follow me.”
‘Another one seeking to shirk duties under the guise of guiding her?’
She frowned slightly.
“You actually don’t need to queue. That letter grants you access to the cathedral through a different entrance.”
‘Well, it seemed she had guessed incorrectly.’
Witnessing the young nun, who had just been queuing behind him, being led directly to a side entrance, the corpulent man’s face turned green with fury. His rage made him fix a ravenous stare upon the few people behind him who were stifling their laughter.
“Sir, please observe basic decorum. The Holy See reserves the right to expel those who lack proper manners.”
An older nun, seemingly more senior, had appeared behind him without a sound.
Following her guide to the front, Ghervil finally understood the delay: several clerics and uniformed police officers were conducting basic security checks at the main entrance. On a table lay several boxes of burning incense, which everyone was required to sniff, though its purpose remained unclear.
Some out-of-town visitors, unaware of the regulations, were found with prohibited items during searches and subsequently barred from entry.
The side entrance, however, bypassed these cumbersome procedures. Following the nun, Ghervil entered the cathedral’s interior unimpeded.
She had hoped to find the Bishop immediately upon entering to clarify matters; she held little expectation that the book would cure her ailment. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could return, for she had something exceptionally important to attend to that evening.
Through a dark, dimly lit circular side corridor, Ghervil followed the nun. As they passed rooms, rectangular beams of light spilled onto the floor, bathing the black-and-white checkered tiles in a warm, yellow glow.
It was almost eerily quiet, utterly devoid of the bustling atmosphere outside the cathedral.
They encountered few people, and the guiding nun remained largely silent. Ghervil felt an unsettling chill, and several times, thoughts of questioning her were quashed by the echoing ‘tap-tap-tap’ of their footsteps.
After ascending a spiral staircase, she could glimpse the ground floor hall through a wall window, where two colossal chandeliers hung suspended from the ceiling.
Only on the second floor did light sources other than electric lamps appear, with three candles lit in silver sconces spaced at regular intervals along the walls.
“This is it.”
With a slight bow, the nun turned and retraced her steps.
Beside the iron railing before her, a woman had materialized, seemingly from nowhere.
The woman’s purple hair and the smile on her face caused Ghervil’s pupils to widen.
It was the same Anti-Epidemic Bureau agent she had encountered earlier, the one she suspected was blind. No, even her identity as an agent was now questionable, for her original black uniform had been replaced by a modified, somewhat masculine white ceremonial gown, complete with a matching top hat.