Dr. Callan’s Thursday was simple: a grand meal in the city with Govet-Ghervil, followed by preparing a lavish dinner back at the abbey.
Her initial intention had been to see Konehl-Ghervil, to bid her farewell.
However, she never found Konehl-Ghervil herself, instead becoming entangled with her sister, a delightful distraction she found impossible to refuse, thus consuming her entire day.
“This journey may prove perilous,” Dr. Callan murmured, her head bowed, as she quietly joined the end of the queue. “After careful reflection, I believe it would be best for me to go alone; I cannot, for my own selfish desires, draw you into such danger.”
“Tell me this isn’t simply your way of ensuring I remain perpetually indebted to you,” Konehl-Ghervil retorted.
Trailing behind, Konehl-Ghervil tugged open the pockets of Dr. Callan’s coat, finding the woman’s sudden bashfulness rather amusing, a sight she had never witnessed before.
“Compared to your safety, this money means nothing,” Dr. Callan insisted. “Even a malady that His Holiness the Pontiff cannot overcome… even if you are a nun of the abbey…”
“Rest assured,” Konehl-Ghervil interrupted, “once I’ve settled matters, I shall return to Mistfall City.”
“Any more dawdling and we’ll miss boarding,” Konehl-Ghervil pressed. “Where is your ticket, then?”
Konehl-Ghervil craned her neck, peering into both pockets, effortlessly dismissing Dr. Callan’s rambling as irrelevant.
Her primary motivation for traveling to the Capital was for amusement, with fulfilling her mission and settling debts being secondary concerns.
The Pontiff’s illness… with so many formidable individuals in the Capital, and several well-known major organizations headquartered there, it seemed utterly improbable that her involvement would be required.
“I am quite serious, Konehl-Ghervil,” Dr. Callan continued, absorbed in her own persuasion. “I’ve also been investigating the abbey’s affairs, yet without a single clue, which only hints at the profound depth to which the forces behind it are concealed…”
Dr. Callan, still engrossed in her earnest pleas, failed to notice that the inner lining of both her jacket pockets had been subtly inverted.
“I’m truly relieved to hear you think that way,” Konehl-Ghervil said, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Konehl-Ghervil glanced at the approaching ticket gate, realizing she couldn’t possibly dart ahead to intercept the woman.
“There’s just one thing I need to know,” Konehl-Ghervil demanded, “where is your ticket!?”
Only one train departed for the Capital that day, and by the time of inspection, ticket sales had already concluded.
“The ticket…” Dr. Callan stammered, “I, of course, only bought one for myself.”
With a dawning realization, Dr. Callan understood the sudden turn of events: without a ticket, Konehl-Ghervil naturally couldn’t board the train.
All her previous pleas had been utterly futile.
“How unfortunate,” Dr. Callan declared with feigned regret. “While I would have loved to bring you along, my hands are tied. If there’s anything you wish to purchase, simply write me a letter, and await my good news!”
‘Pretend! Keep pretending!’
Konehl-Ghervil glared at the woman who waved goodbye as she passed through the ticket gate, her determination undimmed.
To avoid impeding the queue, she stepped away, finding an unoccupied corner to open her travel case and rummage through its contents.
While Govet-Ghervil might seem unreliable, Konehl-Ghervil knew deep down that she wouldn’t make a mistake in something like this.
In terms of cunning, Konehl-Ghervil conceded that her sister was perhaps a touch more astute; if she were to play a trick, it wouldn’t be aimed at just one person.
After a thorough search, nestled beneath a generously sized undergarment, she discovered two slips of paper.
Indeed.
The ticket itself was flawless, yet this woman had packed the undergarments incorrectly!
Blushing, Konehl-Ghervil swiftly tucked the items away, then rejoined the queue, examining the information on the two slips as she walked.
One of them was indeed a train ticket.
The train’s name: ‘Night Mail’.
It detailed the itinerary, fare, and other pertinent information.
The car and seat number indicated compartment 7, seat 3.
The other slip of paper held a message:
[You’re undoubtedly wondering how this ticket was purchased. It’s quite simple: when I went to the city earlier today, I convinced that little pervert to pay for it, under the pretense of buying you a gift. She was more than willing, so this ticket didn’t cost us a single penny.]
[Once you arrive in the Capital, I will initiate contact. The prerequisite, however, is that you must be asleep and dreaming. Unless absolutely necessary, I prefer not to expend a significant amount of my energy.]
[When you see Ms. Eldoria, please extend my regards. That child possesses an intense curiosity, far exceeding your own, I assure you, and she is famously a woman of action. Considering these factors, I advise you not to reveal too much about me to her.]
****
“Compartment 7, seat 1…”
Dr. Callan, deftly navigating past several oncoming passengers, clutched her hat as she cross-referenced her ticket information to locate her assigned standard compartment.
The VIP compartments on the Night Mail required advance reservations and cost several times more than those on the Blue Rose, yet their exorbitant price never prevented them from selling out instantly.
As this journey had been decided upon at the last minute, she naturally hadn’t secured a reservation.
Pushing open the door, she found the compartment to be modest in size, approximately four meters long and two meters wide, with a small table and two folding chairs neatly arranged, and all four walls paneled in dark brown velvet.
Overall, it appeared clean and orderly.
Her only regret was that such a small compartment lacked a private lavatory, forcing her to trek to the far end of the carriage whenever nature called.
Her allocated berth, number one, was the lower bunk on the right side, just inside the door.
After stowing her luggage on the rack by the window, Dr. Callan closed the door and departed the compartment.
Upon her return fifteen minutes later, a slight gap in the compartment door immediately caught her attention.
During her ticket purchase, she had leveraged both her status and financial means to ensure the staff ceased selling tickets for this particular compartment.
No one else should have been in this compartment besides her.
A person who could leave such a glaring oversight hardly warranted her caution.
With a stern expression, she pushed the door open, only for the sight before her to darken her face further, leaving her speechless, her mouth agape.
A pair of small, stocking-clad feet dangled freely from the guardrail of the left upper bunk, remarkably close to the door, less than half a meter from her, as their owner knelt, arranging the bedding.
Counting the month after the Mistfall City incident and the few days in Florence City.
The slender ankles, elegant toes, and perfectly arched insteps immediately revealed the identity of their owner.
‘During those days of unconsciousness, while other intimate parts were off-limits, her feet were not; in fact, Dr. Callan had touched them more than once…’
‘There were no ulterior motives… merely necessary contact for trimming her nails and assisting with her baths…’
‘Such things could never be confessed to Konehl-Ghervil. Before confessing her feelings, it had been manageable… but afterward, as her thoughts and actions unconsciously intertwined, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of perversion about herself.’
‘No… I must suppress these urges…’
‘They’re just feet, after all; everyone has them…’
“Perfect timing,” Konehl-Ghervil called out. “Could you hand me the book from the table? I’d rather not climb down again.” Having finished making the bed, she shifted her position to a sitting posture, her feet resting on the metal ladder’s anti-slip rungs, her toes pointed toward the door.
“Ah! Oh… alright!” Dr. Callan exclaimed.
With a startled cry, Dr. Callan snapped back to reality and moved to retrieve the books. There were three of them; without checking the titles, she simply picked one and approached the ladder to hand it over.
“If you thought a mere ticket could prevent me from boarding, then you’ve gravely underestimated me,” Konehl-Ghervil remarked. “That moment of stunned silence just now… were you so surprised to see me?”
“What…?”
Dr. Callan’s position felt… rather awkward. The stocking-clad feet on the ladder’s rungs were just below her eye level, incredibly close. There was no foul odor, but rather a faint scent of roses. It wasn’t just her feet; the fragrance seemed to emanate from Konehl-Ghervil’s entire being.
“Are you even listening to me?”
The stocking-clad toes curled in evident displeasure.
“…Of course I’m listening,” Dr. Callan replied. “How long do you intend for me to hold this book aloft?”
“My apologies, my apologies,” Konehl-Ghervil chuckled, “it’s just rare to see you so flustered.”
Konehl-Ghervil, her eyes crinkling with amusement, accepted the book and laid it flat across her lap.
“I truly appreciate Govet-Ghervil’s gift of the ticket,” she purred. “I never imagined a certain self-important doctor could be so easily outsmarted.”
“Oh really? I beg to differ…”
Turning sideways, Dr. Callan reached back and securely locked the door.
A smile bloomed on her face; she wasn’t sure why, but she was certain it wasn’t a laugh of anger at the girl’s taunts.
On the contrary, she found the girl’s somewhat childish behavior utterly endearing, as if transporting her back to their very first encounter.
Back then, they had been strangers, their approach filled with ulterior motives, yet gradually, she had found herself captivated by Konehl-Ghervil’s unique qualities.
That innocent smile had become one of the few joys in her otherwise mundane existence.
It was as if it shielded her from the plague of death, allowing her to feel a sense of belonging in this world.
“Why lock the door?” Konehl-Ghervil questioned. “The passengers haven’t all boarded yet. By my rough estimate, the remaining passengers outside should be enough to fill every carriage.”
“Did Govet-Ghervil not inform you?”
Dr. Callan remained blocking the ladder, one hand gripping the rail, one foot already on a rung.
“She did… she told me all your secrets!” Konehl-Ghervil bluffed, attempting to maintain her composure and a semblance of authority.
Konehl-Ghervil, sensing the shift in Dr. Callan’s demeanor, feigned composure to maintain her intimidating air.
If it came down to a physical struggle, she knew she’d be left with no choice but to bend over and take a beating.
If she could just hold out until the other passengers arrived, the crisis would naturally resolve itself.
She refused to believe the woman would dare to do anything offensive in front of strangers.
“What about the secret of compartment 7?”
Dr. Callan ascended another rung of the ladder.
“…What secret could compartment 7 possibly hold…?”
WOOOOOOSH—
A short, piercing whistle, signaling the train’s imminent departure, rang out, answering Konehl-Ghervil’s question unequivocally.
No one else would be entering the compartment.
Dr. Callan ascended once more, her chest now pressing against Konehl-Ghervil’s knees.
‘Damn it!’
‘Kick this woman down!’
It wasn’t too late when the thought sparked, and she moved to act.
Yet, she had severely underestimated the other woman’s strength.
Standing firmly on the ladder, Dr. Callan easily sidestepped the kick, then swiftly trapped Konehl-Ghervil’s outstretched right foot between her arm and body.
Konehl-Ghervil’s left foot, unable to connect, was pushed back by an unseen force—a hand gripping the sole of her left foot tightly, causing a sharp, stinging pain.
‘I’m done for…’
Her expression instantly soured.
‘This has truly gone too far!’