Before dawn, Konehl-Ghervil roused Govet-Ghervil, who clung to her like an octopus.
She helped her wash her face, brush her teeth, comb her hair, and fed her breakfast. It wasn’t until Konehl-Ghervil cradled two pots of Blood Rose plants, then stepped into the backyard to unlatch the newly repaired gate, that she slowly emerged from her groggy state.
She felt akin to a nanny, burdened with the daily care, feeding, and education of a child.
Yet, unlike a nanny, she received no remuneration; instead, she found herself spending her own meager funds to maintain the household’s dwindling assets.
Her resources had diminished by a quarter compared to what the Abbess had originally left.
Most of it had been spent in Florence City, where prices were exorbitant, and the imminent arrival of a substantial sum had made her rather reckless with her expenditures.
To avoid a life of destitution, cultivating the Blood Roses had to become a priority.
“If we rely solely on our own strength, we’ll have to make several trips back and forth,” Govet-Ghervil complained. “Why not ask that little pervert for help? I recall she has a car, or we could simply rent a carriage…”
Having walked but a few steps along the narrow path, Govet-Ghervil grumbled behind her.
“I hardly think it wise to let others know we possess seven pots of Blood Roses,” Konehl-Ghervil stated.
Konehl-Ghervil, holding one pot and pulling a suitcase with her other hand, paused to wait.
Canary Street Market boasted high-end sections, brimming with perfumes, jewelry, and gourmet delicacies, where they might easily encounter discerning individuals.
Even with the guise of a nun, they couldn’t brazenly display contraband on the streets.
The workers who had repaired the abbey, including the new gate, had also cleared a small path through the forest leading to Number 101 for her.
This route to the abbey shaved fifteen minutes off the journey compared to Canary Street Market, offering greater discretion, perfect for clandestine movements.
And there was another reason…
If the owner of Number 100 discovered their activities, their moving plans might very well be ruined.
****
“But there’s no need to start so early,” Govet-Ghervil murmured, her eyes half-closed, as if on the verge of sleep. “The path isn’t impassable during the day…”
“If you’re truly so tired, perhaps we should switch?” Konehl-Ghervil suggested.
Though Konehl-Ghervil carried only one pot, it was one of the five left by the Abbess, and it had been temporarily pruned and some soil removed that morning to make manual transport feasible.
The suitcase, brimming with belongings, was no lighter.
“No need to switch,” Govet-Ghervil said, forcing a smile as she approached. “Regaining my human form rapidly depletes my strength, so if you let me hug you for a moment, it will replenish my energy quite well.”
“Very well.”
“Really?”
Slowly setting down the two potted plants she held, Konehl-Ghervil was somewhat surprised by how readily she had agreed.
Just as Govet-Ghervil opened her arms, she heard Konehl-Ghervil continue:
“Provided you complete a certain task,” Konehl-Ghervil specified. “Once we reach the abbey, you will transplant all the roses into the garden, and I will handle the remaining transport work.”
Having embraced her role as the household’s pillar and matriarch, Konehl-Ghervil resolved to help her indolent elder sister shed her bad habits.
She knew that relying solely on harsh methods wouldn’t work; instead, she had to offer incentives and guide her gently.
“You truly are my wonderful sister!” Govet-Ghervil exclaimed.
With that promise, Govet-Ghervil’s spirits lifted considerably, and she even ran ahead, reaching the abbey in just over ten minutes.
Subsequently, Konehl-Ghervil tirelessly transported the remaining roses and Esli’s potted plant legacy back and forth.
By the time everything was moved, the sky was fully bright.
Notably, during her final trip, she heard a woman knocking at the door.
Not daring to make a sound, Konehl-Ghervil quietly slipped away through the backyard.
****
Her tasks for the day were substantial. Upon returning to the abbey, she checked on Govet-Ghervil’s progress, inquired about her clothing preferences and approximate sizes, and asked if there was anything she wished to eat, strictly limiting choices to low-sugar and low-calorie foods.
After a brief respite, she ventured out once more to Canary Street Market to catch the morning rush.
Having not seen her at the morning market for some time, the residents greeted her with considerable warmth.
“Good morning, Sister Konehl-Ghervil,” the baker, Uncle Sam, cheerfully greeted. “It’s been a few days, and your appetite seems to have grown. At your age, you need to eat well to grow strong.”
Oblivious to the young woman’s embarrassment, Uncle Sam from the bakery continued to pile loaves into her basket.
“Is this small amount enough?” he asked.
“Enough!” Konehl-Ghervil quickly interjected. “Mr. Sam, I asked for a double portion! Thank you… A friend of mine is visiting, and I certainly couldn’t eat all this by myself!”
To prevent outlandish rumors from spreading amongst the townsfolk, Konehl-Ghervil grimly endured, offering an explanation while simultaneously handing over a few silver coins.
“Actually, I came by yesterday,” she added, “but you weren’t open…”
“Oh, next time you can just knock,” the burly man, whose arms bulged with muscle, replied, giving her a knowing look as he placed a silver coin and two copper coins into her palm. “I’d likely be preparing the next day’s bread. For a double portion from Sam’s Bakery, 10 Grotte will suffice.”
‘He’s lying,’ she thought.
‘At least four or five people would be needed to finish this much,’ she mused.
Resigned, Konehl-Ghervil pocketed the change, resolving to frequent vendors she didn’t recognize.
Despite wearing a hat, she was recognized nonetheless.
After more than an hour, her basket was brimming with purchases.
Such was the morning market; dawn was when people were most energetic and enthusiastic.
One trip was certainly not enough. After returning to the abbey, she went back to the street to buy clothes for Govet-Ghervil, only to encounter a new predicament.
Long dresses were fine; buying them a size larger wouldn’t invite many questions, as it was a matter of wearing comfort.
But a larger size of underwear…
She couldn’t possibly keep using the excuse of buying for a friend; a nun purchasing such items for a friend seemed entirely inappropriate, no matter how she thought about it.
Pacing back and forth a dozen meters from the shop, pondering a solution, Konehl-Ghervil suddenly felt a hand gently cover her eyes from behind.
“Who…”
Her mouth was covered.
Swiftly, she was pulled into a narrow corner.
“I was wrong, truly wrong,” a deep voice whispered against her ear. “Please, won’t you move back?”
As the deep voice resonated against her ear, the hands that had covered her eyes and mouth released their hold, only to pull her into a tight embrace.
“Let go, now! I’ll scream!”
She recognized Dr. Callan’s voice, utterly surprised that the woman dared to act so brazenly on the street.
Anyone passing by would surely see them.
“I won’t let go, not unless you promise me.”
The embrace tightened further, and Dr. Callan buried her head in Konehl-Ghervil’s neck.
“Is this truly how you apologize?” Konehl-Ghervil retorted.
“Because you haven’t accepted my apology… Konehl-Ghervil… please forgive me…”
The woman’s tone was utterly dejected, and Konehl-Ghervil, ceasing her struggles, sighed softly.
“Why do you believe I’m angry?”
“Then why did you move out?”
“The abbey requires someone to look after it, and Govet-Ghervil needs the abbey’s power to return to her human form,” Konehl-Ghervil explained. “We’re only staying there for a few days.”
“How long precisely?”
“We plan to stay until Mrs. Keith returns, likely moving back to Lily of the Valley Street by the end of September.”
“You’re not deceiving me, are you?”
“I swear by the Goddess, I did not move to the abbey because I was angry with you.”
‘It’s merely that I didn’t know how to face you,’ Konehl-Ghervil added silently.
“I thought I had made an irreparable mistake,” Dr. Callan said, her voice noticeably lighter, though her embrace only loosened slightly, her hands not entirely letting go.
“Continue like this, and you’ll soon commit the very mistake you spoke of,” Konehl-Ghervil retorted, her face darkening.
“Don’t worry, no one will pass by,” Dr. Callan whispered. “I just want to feel your warmth and scent for a little while longer…”
‘Idiot.’
‘Pervert.’
‘Shameless…’
Konehl-Ghervil mentally cycled through every insult she knew, and for a moment, wished to slap this increasingly audacious woman into oblivion.
She had every reason to suspect she had been followed all the way here after buying groceries and returning to the abbey.
With the unspoken truth now laid bare, she could no longer dismiss the woman’s various actions as mere expressions of friendship.
From now on, she knew, she could not afford to be unguarded.
“Ahem… This is a public place. Might I ask you both to be mindful of your surroundings?”
A sudden cough sent Konehl-Ghervil’s heart plummeting.
She looked up to see a man, his arm draped with a coat, clad in a shirt, and sporting stubble, standing three meters away.
The man possessed a familiar face: Helm-Scard, a Level Five Agent from the Epidemic Prevention Bureau.