“Don’t you want to know what I saw?”
It wasn’t until she was once again settled in the passenger seat of the black Beetle, and the woman had fastened her seatbelt, that Ghervil spoke, her voice laced with a lingering sense of disorientation.
The sight, those shadowy figures swaying beneath the interplay of lamplight and moonlight, seemed visible only to her, and the terror wrought by these unknown, eerie entities was far more profound than her previous two encounters.
“It’s not important, but I know that if I’d taken you onto that train, I might have been able to protect you. For the others, that’s less certain.”
Callan possessed a quiet confidence that with a little effort, she could have saved half a carriage, perhaps even more.
The current predicament, however, was that she was the only physician of chief-level caliber available in Mistfall City.
Trusting the judgment of her superiors, she understood that this decision implied the plague’s danger was such that the presence or absence of others would not alter the outcome.
She could have taken the young woman and fled, yet how many in this city were truly stronger than her? She humbly admitted none.
“They became hostages because of me…” The young woman’s voice was tinged with an unavoidable sadness as she lowered her head.
“That’s partly true…”
Mid-sentence, Callan observed the young woman’s crestfallen demeanor and moved her foot from the accelerator pedal.
“Ah… this is precisely why I dislike dealing with people.”
Leaning over, she gently but firmly cupped the young woman’s face in her hands, turning her head to face her.
“Listen closely, this isn’t your fault. Sometimes, plagues or affected creatures kill without any reason at all. Just as humans eat cattle and sheep, for a plague, it’s merely instinct.”
“But the plague clearly possesses consciousness; those things were being controlled. Otherwise, the people at the station would have already died.”
Her attempts at reassurance seemed to fall flat.
The young woman’s tone remained subdued.
“Yes, that’s right! But what does that prove? It still doesn’t change the fact that it poses a threat to this city!”
Callan couldn’t comprehend it; wasn’t Ghervil usually so astute? How could she be so stuck on this particular point?
“Perhaps we could negotiate… if their target is the Abbey…”
Gazing into the young woman’s beautiful eyes, Callan paused, momentarily stunned.
The implication was clear: to trade the Abbey for the city’s safety.
To put it more bluntly, she wished to bargain with her own life and with whoever stood behind the plague—be they traitors or its controllers.
With a sudden sigh of relief, Callan released the young woman’s face and leaned back into her own seat.
“You are still a person, a living, breathing human being. I thought that after spending so long in that Abbey, you had become a monstrous creature, neither human nor ghost. To have such a thought proves you are still normal.”
“I’m somewhat relieved now, knowing I haven’t been spending my time with a monster whose outward appearance belies its true nature.”
‘A monster whose outward appearance belies its true nature…’
The young woman murmured the words, her inner gloom dispersed by a sudden surge of nameless fury.
No one had ever called her a monster before.
For someone of sound mind, this was more than just an insult.
This person’s implication even extended to the entire Abbey!
“So that’s what you’ve thought all along. I’ll give you one chance: retract what you just said, or else…”
“Or else what?”
Callan remained unfazed, raising an eyebrow in a provocative manner.
“Just wait for the notice on Sunday! You can start looking for a new assistant right now!”
“While I’m tempted to remind you whose hand I guided to sign that contract, I still want to ask: why Sunday?”
‘Wasn’t this person supposed to be quiet and aloof in front of others? Where did such remarkable talent for provocation come from?’
Ghervil was positively fuming, but of course, she couldn’t admit it was because the effects of the medicine would wear off by Sunday morning.
“There’s no ‘why,’ it’s just Sunday!”
“Very well, I retract that statement and offer my sincerest apologies. You remain the most beautiful and captivating nun I’ve ever seen, not a monster. Shall I kiss your hand to show my sincerity?”
Callan, like some unctuous nobleman, took Ghervil’s hand and brought it to her lips.
‘For some reason, that only made her angrier.’
She yanked her hand back with force, turning her head to banish the annoying figure from her sight, silently conveying her rage.
The engine roared to life.
The car’s engine ignited, spewing grey-black smoke from its exhaust pipe.
Callan glanced at the young woman, confirming she hadn’t unbuckled her seatbelt in a fit of pique, then pressed down on the accelerator.
“Don’t shoulder every burden yourself. If you die, and the Abbey vanishes completely, they might become even more reckless and uninhibited. Blame your former abbess for being soft-hearted back then and not cleaning things up properly.”
****
Passing through the narthex and the choir area, then along a lengthy side corridor, one arrived at the entrance to the bell tower’s internal passage.
According to Komel, it was precisely here that Bishop Sartre had disappeared.
Dozens of agents had already completed their search within the sanctuary and were now combing the surrounding areas, while a small number of clergy who hadn’t fallen into the dream realm were checking places the Bishop frequented.
“Could you describe the specific circumstances at the time?” Ramsey asked Komel, who was conferring with her subordinates, as he crouched at a moonlit corner entrance, examining the surrounding floor and walls.
“No problem.” Turning, Komel furrowed her brow and began to recall the events.
“We were escorting him then, roughly in this position.”
She stepped forward, standing at the demarcation between moonlight and shadow, her upper body concealed within the gloom.
“He stopped here, looked up, and said to us, ‘The last time the moon shone this brightly was eleven years ago.’ From this angle, the moon wasn’t visible, so all our attention was drawn to him. In about one or two seconds, by the time we collected ourselves, he had vanished.”
“We searched the vicinity thoroughly, but found no trace.”
The three agents behind her nodded in tacit agreement to Ramsey.
Ramsey’s gaze returned to Komel.
“Your eyes…”
“They haven’t recovered yet, but if he had tampered with something, they wouldn’t have missed it.”
‘The moon eleven years ago… was that a hint at something?’
Ramsey lowered his head in thought.
He had perused those dossiers no less than ten times, which documented the outcome of that incident and the agreement between the Sanctuary and the Abbey.
The underground hospital, the most vulnerable point, had already been reinforced with additional guards. Where else could there be an oversight?
“Forget people, we haven’t even found a single hair!”
Helm strode over the stairs, emerging from the end of the corridor with a host of black-clad agents. His voice preceded his arrival.
“How are things on your end?”
As he drew nearer, Komel spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness, and Ramsey subtly shook his head.
“Too few clues. The dossiers only record the outcome of the last plague, not the specific process, rendering them largely useless for reference. And Solis Abbey, which held the most information leading to that outcome, has already…”
“That’s not necessarily true.” Helm offered a wry smile as he stepped aside, retreating to the edge of the corridor. The black-clad team followed suit, revealing two figures at the very end: one in front, one behind; one tall, one short.
“I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but we encountered them during our search outside.”
The blonde doctor deliberately slowed her pace, waiting. The white-haired nun maintained a certain distance from the doctor.
It was clear she was angry.
“Did you two fall out?”
It was Komel who asked, a barely concealed smirk on her face. She had thought the nun behaved this way only with her, but now she observed the same behavior towards others; provoking Ghervil meant no one would receive a pleasant expression.
Callan acted as if Komel didn’t exist, walking directly to Ramsey, the leader of the black-clad agents.
“No more support will be coming from this side. You’ll need to prepare for the worst.”