Her mind went blank.
All extraneous noise faded away.
Gradually, Konehl-Ghervil began to grasp this peculiar knack.
She thought of nothing at all.
Every cell in her body settled into stillness.
Without truly sleeping, she could still achieve a profound restoration of her spirit.
To outsiders—the natives of this world—she appeared to be genuinely asleep.
In the middle of the night, Ishmele-Esli came to find her, bringing roasted snake meat.
Accompanying her was a woman, a doctor by the sound of their conversation.
Ishmele-Esli unceremoniously pulled open the tent flap, then knelt beside her and nudged her gently.
The accompanying doctor, who entered shortly after, confirmed she was asleep, and only then did the two women depart.
Konehl-Ghervil felt that if it weren’t so cold, and the temperature more agreeable, she could have remained in this state for much longer.
However, she would not have been startled into abandoning her feigned death before dawn.
“I’ve saved you from a great deal of trouble; you really ought to thank me!” a triumphant cry erupted within her mind.
“Thank you for disturbing my peaceful slumber, then! Have you no sense of time?” She instinctively clapped her hands over her ears, but realizing it offered no reprieve, she repeatedly stroked her chest, striving to regulate her breathing.
“You can actually sleep?” A voice, laced with astonished bewilderment, echoed in her mind.
“I can’t truly sleep, but I was recalling knowledge from a very important book I once read.”
“Good, so you’re not asleep. You gave me quite a fright. People in the real world cannot fall asleep within a true dream, not unless they are dead.”
Receiving no immediate reply, Govet-Ghervil mistakenly assumed the topic was too somber, and thus shifted the conversation to the book.
“What book could be so important? Tell me about it; perhaps I’ve read it myself.”
“The magnum opus of a legendary culinary master: *One Hundred Ways to Die as a Chinchilla*.”
‘Are you certain it wasn’t a killer’s treatise…?’
Govet-Ghervil, who had been nestled between Konehl-Ghervil’s breasts like a natural pillow, abruptly opened her eyes, flipped over, and stood. She gazed intently, and upon confirming that Konehl-Ghervil was still asleep and thus helpless, she settled back into a more comfortable position and drifted off to sleep.
“You can’t blame this on me. Some ill-intentioned individual has been knocking on your door every twenty minutes since half past four this morning; I was woken by the racket.”
“Ill-intentioned… meaning someone trying to assassinate me?”
‘Catching the mastermind means I’m close to leaving this dream.’
‘I hadn’t expected such swift progress…’
“Not an assassin, but someone far more familiar to you: the Chief of the Hospital Department, Lottus-Callan.”
‘Perhaps I truly should prioritize that chinchilla lesson after all.’
The answer was unexpected, leaving Konehl-Ghervil feeling a touch disappointed.
‘How could Lottus-Callan harbor ill intentions towards her?’
‘Without Lottus-Callan, she would have perished countless times over, never even having the chance to meet the Dean who wove this dream.’
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
Employing a similar method, Govet-Ghervil allowed Konehl-Ghervil to witness Lottus-Callan’s actions from the previous night, as she sat by the bed.
As the scene shifted, Konehl-Ghervil’s gaze returned to the bare canvas of the tent ceiling.
‘And now I owe yet another favor…’
Konehl-Ghervil’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“You’ve misunderstood her; she’s been looking after me like this for the entire past month.”
“If she truly wished me harm, she’s had countless opportunities, and wouldn’t have waited until now.”
“Oh, when did I ever say she intended to harm you?!”
Govet-Ghervil’s mind reeled; she realized they weren’t even discussing the same thing!
‘Could it be that her sister wasn’t merely pretending to be naive, but was genuinely innocent, entirely lacking in such experience?’
“Before you returned to this era…”
Almost embarking on an ill-advised topic, Govet-Ghervil deftly halted herself.
“When one person is fond of another, what might they wish to do to them at night? Hmm… or not necessarily at night.”
She opted for a more indirect approach, for if Konehl-Ghervil’s heart was truly pure, an elder sister who corrupted her younger sister’s mind would be utterly reprehensible.
“Before I came to this era, I spent most of my time in slumber, but I still possess basic common sense. Do you truly believe it appropriate to ask a nun such a question?”
A distinct displeasure colored Konehl-Ghervil’s tone.
After much circumlocution, she finally understood what the creature was trying to convey.
‘She immediately dismissed such hormone-driven emotions.’
‘Superficially, they were both women.’
‘She was a nun of The Order, and Lottus-Callan the Chief of the Hospital Department; neither would be ignorant of such principles.’
‘From the outset, there could be no possibility between them.’
‘Moreover, that entire month served as proof of her innocence.’
“Lottus-Callan merely cherishes this friendship excessively, perhaps even relies on it, likely stemming from her past experiences, personality, and lack of friends. It is certainly not driven by desire. As for you, if only you had appeared sooner to look after me, I wouldn’t owe her this favor.”
In Konehl-Ghervil’s understanding, for love to develop between unrelated individuals, it required years of mutual understanding, shared affection, and reciprocal willingness before reaching such a stage.
‘Isn’t that how it always plays out in films, TV dramas, and novels?’
‘She and Lottus-Callan had known each other for less than two months, in fact.’
Govet-Ghervil, however, saw through it all.
Her prolonged slumber had left Konehl-Ghervil knowledgeable in theory, yet utterly devoid of practical experience.
“You gravely underestimate human nature. ‘Human’ and ‘beast’ are merely designations; sometimes, swapping the subjects they refer to would not strike anyone as amiss.”
Assuming the air of an elder, she declared,
“In any case, as long as I am here, I will not let her touch you, not even once, while you are in your slumber.”
“Furthermore, a favor owed to your sister is still a favor. Remember to repay me in the future.”
“Instead of occupying yourself with such trivialities, you should use your abilities to find the culprit or help me escape this place, rather than vexing my friends.”
Konehl-Ghervil felt it mattered little; either of them could attend to her.
Her sole hope was for them to get along well, without conflict.
In the final flicker of the vision, she witnessed Govet-Ghervil exerting control over Lottus-Callan.
‘She was still counting on Lottus-Callan to provide the ‘official commission’ needed to complete her certification.’
“How do you know I haven’t been working on that?”
Govet-Ghervil, however, filtered out the latter half of Konehl-Ghervil’s sentence as if it were mere wind whistling past her ears.
“Rest well; the ill-intentioned individual is knocking again.”
Dong, dong, dong—
For the fifth time, the door was knocked upon, yet no response came from within the tent.
Lottus-Callan’s patience had completely worn thin.
Having pondered throughout the night, Govet-Ghervil, though not her true sister, maintained a close bond with Konehl-Ghervil.
She hoped to foster a good relationship and had prepared even more food for that purpose.
But respect was the prerequisite.
Just as the key slid into the lock, a voice emerged from within,
“Unless it is a matter of utmost importance, please do not disturb me, with the exception of delivering breakfast.”
Suppressing a surge of irritation, Lottus-Callan pushed open the door and switched on the electric lamp. The sight that greeted her left her unable to discern whether she felt envy or indignation.
“Why are you sleeping there?”
“Because sisters have a good relationship?” Govet-Ghervil leaned back indignantly, resting against the natural pillow formed by the high sides and low center.
Placing the gift box of sweets on the table, Lottus-Callan proceeded to the washroom to draw a bath.
‘Changing certain things requires time.’
She summoned a rare degree of patience to compose herself.
The desired effect remained elusive, as Govet-Ghervil, having leaped to the gift box, tore it open and began to enjoy her breakfast.
Fifteen minutes later, Lottus-Callan emerged, a bath towel in her hand.
“The hot water is ready.”
“Carry her in, and keep your hands to yourself. I’ll be watching you.”
As instructed, Lottus-Callan behaved impeccably, lifting Konehl-Ghervil in a bridal carry, executing the entire process without a single superfluous movement.
Yet the soft sensation and warm body heat made her yearn to hold Konehl-Ghervil a moment longer. She paused at the edge of the bathtub, turning to ask Govet-Ghervil, who had followed her in,
“How long will it take?”
“I’m not certain. I’ll call you when she’s finished bathing. At that point, close your eyes and follow my instructions.”
Lottus-Callan offered no objection to this arrangement.
“And now?”
“Support her shoulders, maintaining her upright posture, then close your eyes. Leave the rest to me, but remember: you may only touch her shoulders.”
“Mmm…”
The response was muffled and indistinct.
As the nightgown slipped from Konehl-Ghervil’s shoulders, Lottus-Callan cooperatively moved her hands away, then steadied her once more.
An even finer, softer texture transmitted to her fingertips, then spread to her palms.
A faint, sweet scent wafted around her.
Ever since she sensed certain nascent feelings burgeoning within her, Lottus-Callan had been plagued by a profound sense of impropriety.
Whoosh—
The sound of clothes being discarded onto the floor.
‘Her blood began to stir once more.’
‘Calm yourself…’
‘She repeatedly admonished herself.’
‘If she couldn’t even manage this small task, what right did she have to be Konehl-Ghervil’s friend?’
“There’s been… a slight issue with the Baron.”
This couldn’t continue. She resolved to say something, anything, to distract herself.
“I know.”
Having finished her task, Govet-Ghervil exhaled slowly.
“That’s enough. Carry her inside, then gather the clothes she took off and prepare a fresh set to leave outside.”
With the final instruction carried out, Lottus-Callan exited the washroom, bringing an end to her tormented moments.
She had intended to calm herself through meditation, but as she gently raised her hand, she realized she was still clutching all the discarded clothes, which retained a lingering warmth.