For the first time, Konehl-Ghervil felt an unprecedented, tangible threat emanating from the head of the Hospital Department, a sensation far more profound than the mere push she had received in Mistfall City.
She was seized by an unsettling conviction that a single misspoken word or an ill-advised movement would result in something unseen in the shadows instantly seizing her throat or extinguishing her life.
Wearing sunglasses, her field of vision was reduced to almost nothing.
This undoubtedly intensified the already palpable tension.
She nearly blurted out her true identity, the words catching in her throat.
At worst, it would mean a minor deduction from her salary; Dr. Callan could hardly compel her return once the situation was clarified.
Suddenly, something was pressed into her mouth; though she couldn’t discern its taste, the texture on her tongue suggested a small cake.
Govet-Ghervil used the small cake to silence her.
Having, after all, witnessed significant events and more than a single death, she quickly regained her composure after swallowing the cake, allowing herself to think clearly.
It was clear to her that Dr. Callan would not genuinely seek her life; this was, in all likelihood, yet another test.
She began to reflect on her blunder: revealing the name of the potion.
Bishop Gomor had helped her forge this identity under sudden circumstances, leaving little room for meticulous planning of subsequent steps.
She should have been more circumspect, inventing a new name for the potion.
Dr. Callan’s suspicion, Konehl-Ghervil surmised, likely centered on the fraudulent nature of the Blood Rose research, rather than her identity, particularly since she had convincingly deduced that the petals were cultivated with bovine blood, which prompted this test.
Yet, a remedy was not entirely out of reach.
Regarding the Nightmare Revelation, Dr. Callan likely possessed only three pieces of information: the potion’s name and inventor, its use in alleviating narcolepsy, and some fundamental effects observed after consumption.
Having never divulged the specific principles or formula, Konehl-Ghervil merely needed to firmly assert that she had concocted the potion herself.
“Is this truly how you treat your collaborators?” Konehl-Ghervil managed to utter, her breath growing heavier.
“Have you still not grasped the reality of your situation?”
The chilling voice in the darkness seemed to envelop her from all sides, resonating with an unnerving presence.
“Very well, I shall be more direct then. The Nightmare Revelation was crafted by the Abbot of Solis Abbey, intended solely for the treatment of a unique form of narcolepsy, and it certainly does not possess the ability to draw divine power from nightmares, as you claimed.”
“You may be mistaken, Dr. Callan. I have never encountered a potion specifically for treating a unique form of narcolepsy. Perhaps these are simply two distinct elixirs that coincidentally bear the same name.”
“The name of the potion I formulated was inspired by a book dedicated to the study of nightmares. Furthermore, do you truly believe I would dare to provoke the Abbot of Solis Abbey?”
The oppressive atmosphere eased slightly, suggesting that her interlocutor was pondering her words.
“Mere verbal accounts lack substantial persuasive power.”
“I possess no concrete evidence to substantiate my claims, and if you choose not to believe me, then I shall simply withdraw from this endeavor and cease my private investigations.”
After all, she was portraying an ordinary individual, and it was only natural for such a person to contemplate retreat when confronted with a mortal threat. Simultaneously, she was gambling, betting that Dr. Callan would not relinquish the services of a capable assistant.
“It appears you do not value friendship as highly as your words suggest.”
As the light gradually returned to the room, Konehl-Ghervil slowly discerned the woman’s actions: she was placing various items on the table, including an assortment of pastries and neatly stacked documents.
“Seeking advantage and avoiding harm is an innate human instinct,” Dr. Callan remarked dispassionately.
Konehl-Ghervil lowered her head, rendered speechless.
“Yet, it is precisely such individuals whom we require.”
She pushed a selection of pastries towards Konehl-Ghervil.
“One who avoids unnecessary risks, understands their own position and capabilities, and knows when to yield or flee – only then can we guarantee your safety to the fullest extent.”
The sincerity of the smile on her face remained inscrutable.
“Please, Ms. Rowan, partake of these. Consider them a token of apology for our recent… intensity.”
“And naturally, there’s some for Govet-Ghervil too.”
Without needing any prompting, the fluffy furball (TL Note: Refers to Govet-Ghervil, a sentient, animal-like companion.) immediately leaped onto the array of pastries, indulging itself with a nibble here and a bite there.
Konehl-Ghervil cautiously picked up a cream scone, bringing it to her lips. After a moment of hesitation, she finally placed it in her mouth, savoring the taste before offering her assessment.
“It’s quite delicious.”
“Please, don’t hesitate to have more if you wish.”
Nodding subtly, Konehl-Ghervil continued to sample the pastries, diligently replenishing her depleted energy.
Maintaining a demeanor consistent with her assumed identity while simultaneously anticipating her opponent’s every move had left her utterly drained, both physically and mentally.
“Do you recall me mentioning that your voice bears a striking resemblance to that of a friend of mine?”
Without waiting to see if Konehl-Ghervil was listening intently, Dr. Callan continued, seemingly to herself.
“She’s precisely the type to take dangerous initiatives on her own, and she’s riddled with flaws. Despite possessing no combat prowess, she occasionally enjoys resorting to petty tricks. I’ve always found her utterly incorrigible.”
With a twitch of her lips, Konehl-Ghervil interjected, “Does she have no virtues at all?”
“If a fondness for money can be considered a virtue, then she would undoubtedly rank first among all the people I know.”
“Indeed, a virtue. Such individuals are often diligent and adept at managing a household. Perhaps you might consider bolstering your friendship with this person through financial means.”
“She is not so superficial; of that, I am certain. Otherwise, I would never have chosen to forge such a profound friendship with her.”
“…”
Konehl-Ghervil’s eyelids twitched, yet she chose not to pursue the conversational thread.
“Let us, instead, return to the matter at hand.”
She remained uncertain whether Dr. Callan’s words were merely a subtle probe.
“Everything is prepared.”
First, a sealed document envelope was singled out and presented. The woman then instructed gravely.
“Within this envelope are materials pertaining to the previous two cases. Remember, you alone are to examine them, for certain matters can only be discussed once you have reviewed them.”
“Should I review them now?”
Konehl-Ghervil feigned an attempt to open the envelope.
She knew that in Dr. Callan’s estimation, Konehl-Ghervil was supposedly illiterate.
By openly perusing the document’s contents, she could unequivocally dispel any lingering suspicion.
The thought brought with it a sudden absence of regret regarding her decision not to take the medicine.
“There’s no rush.”
Dr. Callan raised a hand, halting her.
“There remains an outstanding commission to address.”
From her pocket, she produced a rose brooch, identical to the one Dr. Schmidt had shown yesterday; upon opening it, a delicate rose unfurled within.
“This particular specimen was not cultivated by The Order themselves.”
To preempt any misunderstanding, Dr. Callan explained as she deftly used a scalpel, seemingly conjured from thin air, to excise a single petal.
“You may consider this a crucial clue in the ongoing disappearance case.”
Konehl-Ghervil, still wearing her sunglasses, could not discern the petal’s true hue.
Govet-Ghervil, her actions remarkably clear, unhesitatingly abandoned her pastries and scampered to Dr. Callan’s hand, clearly intending to sniff the petal.
Startled, Konehl-Ghervil instantly scooped the furball back into her arms.
“My apologies. It likely mistook it for food.”
“This item is quite precious, not a mere snack. Do you understand, Govet-Ghervil?” Dr. Callan inquired, reaching out to gently stroke the furball’s head.
Konehl-Ghervil was somewhat surprised that it didn’t recoil.
Was it because of the treats?
To be so swiftly swayed by pastries left Konehl-Ghervil feeling a small, internal pang of displeasure.
After all, it was a member of the Konehl-Ghervil household; surely a proper bribe should involve money, at the very least.
“In truth, analyzing and cultivating the specific blood types for the Blood Rose proves exceptionally challenging; you understand such specialized matters far better than I, so I shall not elaborate further.”
Having carefully packaged the petal, Dr. Callan rose from the sofa.
“I trust that with your previous experience, this task will proceed much more swiftly. The most advanced experimental equipment in this city is housed within this very building. Come, I shall lead the way.”
“I’ve brought everything I require.”
Cradling the furball in one arm, Konehl-Ghervil patted her laptop messenger bag with her free hand, then spoke in a jocular tone.
“Simply prepare a well-soundproofed room for me. I have no desire to divulge my experimental secrets.”
“Not even to the esteemed chief of the Hospital Department.”