Having never handled the entire process herself before, and considering the available ingredients, she swiftly decided what to make.
Banana oat cookies emerged as an excellent choice, being simple to prepare, easy to master, and offering a minimal chance of failure.
“Mrs. Keith once said that the simplest way to make cookies is to mix flour or oats with dried fruit and water until no dry powder remains, adding sugar according to taste, pinching them into desired shapes, and then baking them in a preheated oven for ten to twenty minutes.”
Guided by the instructions she recalled, she donned her sleeves and set about the task.
She peeled the bananas, mashed them into a pulp, then added oats and stirred until the mixture was thoroughly combined, with no dry powder remaining.
Next, she incorporated the dried fruit and sugar. The oven, meanwhile, was preheated to 180 degrees Celsius.
When one is engrossed in a single task, time invariably flies by.
Operating with only one hand proved cumbersome, and by the time she had finished baking the first batch, it was already nearing three in the afternoon.
“Ding.”
The oven’s timer chimed, and Konehl-Ghervil, who had been sitting comfortably in front of an old-fashioned four-blade electric fan, mouth slightly agape as she savored the breeze, immediately rose. Her nose twitched as she followed the enticing scent, covering the distance to the kitchen in a few swift strides.
“Don’t rush,” she reminded herself, “Mrs. Keith said that it’s precisely at moments like these that one is most prone to carelessness.”
“Where is it…” she murmured, squinting, “Found it!”
Squinting, she scanned the room, locating the oven mitts on a wall hook. Using her less dexterous left hand to assist her right in putting them on, she finally opened the oven and pulled out the baking tray.
Six crescent-shaped cookies lay on the tray, billowing thick steam and an inviting aroma.
Not bad at all; their appearance and color were not much different from the cookies she had seen in dessert shops, leaving her extremely pleased.
As for the taste, however, she didn’t hold much hope.
She had prepared five different flavors in total: two batches of the normal, low-sugar variety, and the remaining four were excessively sweet, excessively salty, excessively sour, and excessively bitter.
These extreme flavors were meant to test her issues with taste perception.
She wasn’t sure precisely how much seasoning would render them inedible for a normal person, but she had certainly added enough to be confident.
She first picked up the marked ‘extra sweet’ cookie; the sugar had melted completely into it, making it appear no different from the normal batch.
Taking a bite, she consumed half of it, and after chewing for a while, she furrowed her brow.
Refusing to believe it, she spat it out, rinsed her mouth with water, then picked up another cookie and bit off three-quarters.
Her mood, however, gradually grew heavy.
The feedback she received from both cookies was merely ‘slightly sweet’ and ‘slightly salty’.
‘Could it be that she hadn’t added enough sugar and salt?’ she wondered.
She glanced at the nearly empty salt bag, a hint of disbelief in her eyes.
Shaking her head, unwilling to give up, she finally tried a normal cookie, which carried a subtle, not-too-strong banana flavor.
She now had a hypothesis, though she couldn’t yet confirm it.
Her tongue automatically filtered out extreme flavors, while the taste of normal food was slightly dulled.
She wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse.
She could taste food normally but couldn’t distinguish unpleasant tastes, meaning she could eat virtually anything, with the sole exception of spiciness, which registered as pain.
Considering the high probability that this was an additional symptom of her narcolepsy, it would likely be incurable and would only continue to worsen.
She could already foresee the outcome: eventually, she wouldn’t even be able to taste normal food.
She considered herself an optimistic person; otherwise, she would never have endured for so many years in her previous life.
Combined with the ‘Nightmare Revelation’, she should be able to buy herself a considerable amount of time.
“Look on the bright side,” she thought, “during this time, I can still enjoy the pleasure of good food, and the results aren’t truly confirmed yet. I need to find someone with normal taste to try them.”
She rubbed her face, then tossed the half-eaten ‘extreme flavor’ cookies into the trash. Carrying the remaining three, she headed to the living room to wait.
‘This felt somewhat disloyal to Mrs. Keith,’ she mused, ‘but who knew when the doctor would return? She had to find someone to help verify, didn’t she?’
“Ding-dong… ding-dong…”
Amidst her slight guilt, she heard the faint, intermittent chime of the doorbell.
Turning off the fan, the sound became distinct: someone was ringing the doorbell of apartment 101.
Approaching the door, she gently pushed it open a crack, peeking out with half her head. The sight of a person with striking long purple hair, clad in a black coat uniform, standing at the entrance of 101 nearly made her jump.
‘Why is it her…’ she thought, dismayed. ‘This rude pervert actually crossed the fence without permission—wait, I think I forgot to close it myself, but still, she shouldn’t have…’
In any case, she harbored no fondness for this agent named Lalviye-Komel, despite her scholarly credentials; she needed to find a way to make her leave.
A solution quickly came to mind.
Closing the door, she pressed herself against the wall in the living room that adjoined apartment 101, then, lowering her voice, tried to speak as loudly as possible:
“What business do you have with the nun?”
“Is that Mrs. Keith?” Lalviye-Komel asked, turning her head at the sound of the voice.
“Y-yes,” the voice replied, “Konehl-Ghervil isn’t home today; she must have gone to church.”
‘To church?’ Lalviye-Komel mused. ‘There are people guarding that area; why wasn’t I informed? Was it that urgent? So urgent she forgot to close the gate? And that voice…’
A slight upturn of her lips, and the cunning agent pretended not to notice.
“Then, would you mind relaying a message to her for me?” Lalviye-Komel continued. “Just tell her that I’ve already discovered it.”
‘How inexplicable,’ Konehl-Ghervil thought. ‘Discovered what?’
“Based on my understanding of her,” Lalviye-Komel said, “she’ll likely take it as a joke.”
“Do you think I should elaborate further?”
Silence.
Konehl-Ghervil couldn’t show any desire to know; the other party was no easy opponent.
“…It’s not impossible,” Lalviye-Komel said with a hesitant tone. “You can tell her I’ve discovered a secret.”
“What… secret?” Unable to resist, the voice from inside the house slowly spoke.
“Regarding her and the doctor,” Lalviye-Komel elaborated, “the secret of the new resident at 100 Lily of the Valley Street.”
“Did something happen between them?”
“Uh… I can’t say any more,” Lalviye-Komel stammered. “I haven’t decided whether I should report this minor matter that could have negative implications. I recall that The Order has rules that nuns should maintain a celibate life… I’m not part of that system, so I don’t know the specifics, but you, being so knowledgeable, must surely understand.”
“…”
“That wretch!”
A muffled thud echoed from within the wall.
Fuming with rage, grinding her teeth, Konehl-Ghervil, her fist red from striking the wall, stormed out of the house.
“You knew all along, didn’t you!”
“It’s actually true!?” the purple-haired woman exclaimed, still feigning ignorance.
“What’s true…”
Taking three seconds to process this, Konehl-Ghervil responded with a glacial stare and the resounding slam of the door.
‘How could such a vulgar and impolite person become both a scholar and an agent?’ she fumed.
She needed to calm down; anger was not her style.
She quickly guided herself to a state of calm.
She decided not to bother arguing; to reason with a ruffian would only lower her intellectual standard and grace.
“My apologies, my apologies, I went too far with the joke. Please open the door, I’m here for something serious. I guarantee it as a scholar of the Dream Society, trust me.”
The voice came from outside the door, but inside, the electric fan’s setting had already been cranked to maximum, its whirring sound masking the irritating commotion.
Indeed, the rude individual’s words now only deserved the term ‘commotion’.
“Miss Konehl?”
“Madam Konehl?”
“Beautiful Sister Konehl-Ghervil…”
***
After trying various appellations, there was still no response from within. Having no other choice, Lalviye-Komel leaned against the wooden fence beside the steps and, in a normal tone, explained her reason for being there.
“Actually, I came to thank you. Not long after you left, my companions quickly replicated the dream to investigate, and as usual, you did not appear in the dream.”
“But that’s not the main point. They discovered that I was in a strange state at the time, as if hypnotized, driving on unfamiliar roads, completely oblivious to the danger nearby. If the back seat door hadn’t suddenly opened and I regained my senses to hit the brakes, I might have died, crushed into a pulp by that tree, with rats swarming to make a meal of me. Though, from that angle, perhaps you would have met the same fate.”
“I recall vividly that it was your act of opening the door and jumping from the car that drew my attention, thereby saving my life. That’s essentially it; the rest awaits further investigation. As for my gratitude, I owe you my life; you can ask anything of me.”
“Oh, and one more question: when you left The Order, were you followed… or did you see anyone strange?”
***
The surroundings were so quiet that only the faint chirping of insects from the forest could be heard.
Shaking her head with a bitter smile, Lalviye-Komel prepared to leave.
She had not walked more than a few steps when the sound of the door opening finally reached her. Turning back, she saw the young woman standing expressionless at the doorway, asking,
“Why did your injury heal so quickly?”
“Everyone who can wield plague weapons has something special about them, more or less,” she said, smiling as she brandished the short sword disguised as a blind cane.
“You truly do care about me,” Lalviye-Komel said, returning with a brazen grin.
“No, neither your last question nor your concern is true.” Her voice betrayed no emotion.
As Lalviye-Komel approached, she noticed Konehl-Ghervil holding a plate in one hand, upon which rested a yellowish-green, crescent-shaped cookie.
“What is this?” she asked, bending down to examine it with her blind cane.
“I made it myself.”
“Speaking against your heart, are we?”
Casting a sly glance at the young woman, Lalviye-Komel unhesitatingly picked up the entire cookie and tossed it into her mouth, chewing heartily and brushing crumbs from her fingers.
“You said you didn’t care about me, so why did you put…”
“Ugh…”
Her words caught in her throat as she violently pulled out a handkerchief, clamping it over her mouth, and dry-heaved, spitting everything out.
When she recovered, intending to settle the score, she found the door had been re-closed at some unknown moment. She could only knock and shout from outside,
“It’s so bitter! Did you put poison in it?! It couldn’t be that you want my life already, could it!”
Inside the house, Konehl-Ghervil sat on the floor, leaning against the door, her head bowed, her eyes somewhat vacant.
‘I should have known not to learn how to cook…’