Dr. Callan recognized the chinchilla, which ‘Rowan’ had always kept by her side and was capable of understanding human speech. Its name was Govet-Ghervil.
So many questions clamored for answers.
‘Why could she not move?’
‘How had it come here?’
‘Why could it speak?’
‘And, most importantly, had she truly heard it call Konehl-Ghervil ‘sister’?’
“Indeed, you heard correctly. Konehl-Ghervil is my blood sister, and I am Govet-Ghervil, one of the eight nuns from Solis Abbey.”
The chinchilla spoke again.
‘Could it read her thoughts?’
‘Konehl-Ghervil wasn’t adopted after all…’
‘No, that wasn’t the point. If it could truly read her mind, then all her recent wild thoughts…’
A cold sweat trickled down her back.
“I have no interest in prying into others’ thoughts. Miss Callan, I will now return control of your body to you. You have three seconds to move away from the bed. If you fail, I will reassert control.”
“You are welcome to resist, but you will bear the consequences yourself.”
Attempting to respond mentally, Dr. Callan found her mouth merely falling open.
“I…”
Realizing she could move, she immediately retreated, positioning herself beside an antique piano.
Govet-Ghervil let out a subtle sigh of relief; maintaining control over a Chief was still too taxing in her current state.
Had Dr. Callan not been entirely preoccupied with Konehl-Ghervil, the surprise attack would likely have failed.
Her objective had been achieved.
She aimed for deterrence.
Dr. Callan chose not to attack, lowering her head to avoid eye contact, for she had realized the true source of the problem lay within her own eyes.
Regardless of the veracity of its words, the mere fact that this creature was Konehl-Ghervil’s ‘pet’ meant she absolutely could not strike it.
Moreover, there was another reason…
The piano’s polished surface reflected the guilt etched across her face.
It was akin to a perpetrator, momentarily moved to reform after committing a crime, only to be discovered by the police.
The weapon remained in her hand.
Explaining herself would prove difficult.
“You are perceptive. I appreciate dealing with perceptive individuals.”
“…”
“However, that does not mean my attitude towards you is amicable.”
Govet-Ghervil’s sudden shift in tone extinguished the last flicker of hope and complacency in Dr. Callan’s heart.
“Answer my initial question: what were you intending to do to my sister?”
“…To help her clean herself and change into her nightclothes.”
“Do you truly expect me to believe such nonsense? What difference was there between your recent actions and those of a beast in heat?”
“I am perfectly aware of my actions,” Dr. Callan retorted with a cold snort.
“If you are truly her sister, you must have heard her speak, at least a little, of who cared for her during that month of slumber following the plague. Konehl-Ghervil herself holds no grievances, so what right do you have to accuse me?”
“On the contrary, you, possessing such power, chose to feign death to evade the plague, abandoning both Mistfall City and her. Undeniably, you are utterly unqualified as a sister and as a nun of that abbey. I find it difficult to believe you are truly her sister.”
Dr. Callan was instantly incensed, unjustly accused despite having committed no transgression.
Even if, by some twisted turn, she had been momentarily possessed by madness, how many would truly be qualified to reprimand a Chief in such a manner?
Such a hypothetical, of course, was impossible.
Govet-Ghervil had no intention of falling into the trap of proving her identity. Today, she was determined to expose this woman who, in her ‘heat’, had set her sights on her sister and stubbornly refused to admit it.
“Do you harbor *those kinds* of feelings for my sister?”
“I don’t know…”
Caught off guard by the directness of the question, she blurted out the words in a moment of panic.
It was the truth; she was currently embroiled in a profound internal struggle.
Could that impulse truly be called ‘feeling’?
She simply didn’t know.
She had never experienced it before.
She believed true emotion to be far more intricate and profound, built upon mutual foundations.
If merely asked if she was interested in Konehl-Ghervil, she might have answered yes in her heart.
Ultimately, emotion and desire were two distinct matters.
“Then I shall rephrase the question.”
“Among these three—a pure and kind nun, a white-haired, red-eyed maiden, and a sister who loves to cook food akin to poison—if you were to choose one as a partner, which would you select?”
“I have no time for your games of interrogation; I must attend to an important friend.” This time, given a moment to compose herself, Dr. Callan’s mind cleared, allowing her to deftly sidestep the inquiry.
“An important friend… or so you presumptuously believe?”
Govet-Ghervil’s laughter was cold.
“Who said this was a game? This question is crucial; it concerns whether you will ever see her again. Once the troubles here are resolved, I can take her to a place you will never find.”
“You!”
Dr. Callan clenched her fists.
All three answers referred to the same person, and any response would inevitably be seized upon as leverage.
‘To resort to such threats… are all members of the Ghervil family truly alike?’
‘No, the sister is far worse than the younger one.’
“My patience is finite. Let me discreetly inform you of something: I can currently reach her in her dreams. If I embellish and relay your beastly behavior, you might just lose your ‘friend’.” Govet-Ghervil continued her veiled threats.
Only a grinding, ragged breath could be heard in the room.
Dr. Callan resolved that the indignities suffered here would be deducted from *someone’s* salary.
Yet, there was also good news.
She managed to suppress her emotions slightly.
There was no doubt that those from Solis Abbey far surpassed the capital’s denizens in their mastery of dreams.
“I choose the second option.”
If one were to delve deeper, neither a nun nor a sister could be considered a suitable partner. The second option, however, was marginally acceptable.
“Just as I suspected, you harbor ill intentions towards my sister.” A voice filled with extreme disdain emanated from the bed.
“It was your question; naturally, the interpretation is yours to command…”
Govet-Ghervil had no intention of listening to her sophistry.
“Remember your answer, and never forget it.”
“Your presence is no longer required here. Give me the change of clothes; I will attend to her. Also, prepare some pastries, preferably those consumed this morning, and then you may leave this room.”
Dr. Callan remained rooted to the spot, glancing up to see Govet-Ghervil tidying the young girl’s hair and wiping away uncleaned foundation from her face.
“Is there anything else? I must say, your makeup removal skills are worse than I imagined.”
“You can contact her in her dreams.”
“Yes.”
After a moment of hesitation, Dr. Callan chose to speak.
“I would like to…”
Her words trailed off, incomplete and stuttering, as her gaze met Govet-Ghervil’s.
Her consciousness was pulled into a realm of darkness.
Flickering lights appeared, and as the scene zoomed in, numerous tents came into view.
Inside one of the tents, a white-haired girl, clad in a loose robe, tossed and turned with closed eyes.
Her entire body appeared unharmed, but her face conveyed an expression of boredom.
Before she could discern further details, her consciousness returned, and the red glow in Govet-Ghervil’s eyes dissipated.
“It’s getting late, Miss Callan. My sister and I require rest. Please compose yourself.”
****
Ten minutes later, Dr. Callan returned with a profusion of pastries and nightclothes, as requested.
Govet-Ghervil’s eyes widened, and she promptly snatched a pastry, devouring it in large bites.
Dr. Callan shook her head, a helpless sigh escaping her.
Dr. Callan truly doubted Govet-Ghervil’s ability to properly care for Konehl-Ghervil.
Consider bathing, for instance: how could a chinchilla possibly move a human?
Presently, it seemed Govet-Ghervil certainly possessed the power to shatter her image in Konehl-Ghervil’s eyes.
If this sister truly hardened her heart, they would never be able to meet again.
At this thought, her earlier good mood, brought on by seeing Konehl-Ghervil unharmed, sank.
Before leaving, she lingered at the doorway, reluctantly offering a final instruction.
“Should anything happen, call for me immediately. I’ll be in the adjacent room.”
“Yes, yes, I know. The Ghervil family dislikes verbose people; she’ll grow to dislike you if you continue.”
As the door closed, Govet-Ghervil abandoned all restraint, plunging headfirst into the pile of pastries.
Transmitting those images had consumed a significant amount of her strength. She estimated that it would require until tomorrow morning to recover enough to convey the good news to Konehl-Ghervil in her dreams.
“Haaah…”
After eating her fill, she helped her sister wipe down and change into her nightclothes. Govet-Ghervil yawned, then settled onto a soft spot, closing her eyes to drift into a dreamless night.