Upon returning to the room, Penelope recounted precisely her experiences in Mistfall City and the contents of the letter, thereby verifying the authenticity of her identity.
She was a survivor of the expedition team from June. After sensing a looming conspiracy and trouble, she chose to send a letter to the last nun of Solis Abbey, who, at the time, was barely considered a friend but was widely renowned.
This letter was not sent through the postal service; instead, a reliable messenger was sought.
En route, the messenger was intercepted and killed by a mysterious individual. Though it was initially believed the delivery plan had failed, some time later, Penelope received news that the letter had been successfully delivered. Filled with doubt and unease, she entered the dream realm to investigate.
The messenger was killed, yet the letter arrived successfully. Konehl-Ghervil could conceive of only one explanation: the letter had been delivered by someone from the Royal Family.
Seeing their plan foiled, the mysterious individual had hidden on the train, intending to assassinate her directly. However, they were discovered by Esli, who arrived just in time, and were forced to abandon the attempt.
Reflecting on this, she realized she had been targeted from the moment she boarded the train.
The initial assassination attempt by the gang was merely a test, confirming that she did not possess the expected strength of a Solis Abbey nun. Yet, because she was accompanied by a powerful bodyguard, they opted to set a trap within the dream realm.
Penelope speculated that the mysterious individual who killed the messenger was none other than Flaman-Cambaton.
If that were the case, he might also be the mastermind behind subsequent assassination attempts.
“It’s riddled with holes.”
Govet-Ghervil offered her opinion languidly.
“As an ordinary person, how could she constantly know the messenger’s status and whether the letter arrived? Unless she *was* the messenger, or she’s concealing some abilities.”
“Furthermore, there’s the question of entering the true dream realm. Without finding the corresponding entry point in reality, even I cannot easily accomplish it.”
“Regarding her identity, we can find no suspicious points. Let’s assume, for now, that Mrs. Penelope has reasons she must conceal. It is only by trusting her that we can uncover more.”
Since she chose not to reveal her identity at their initial meeting, Konehl-Ghervil did not expect to uncover the entire truth of the matter all at once.
“I even suspect you could gain the trust of any random person off the street… My foolish sister, what am I to do with you…? Are you not afraid it might be a new trap?”
“Fortunately, this foolish sister has a clever one, and that is quite enough.”
“There you go again with that… And yet, I still…”
Govet-Ghervil’s voice softened, trailing off.
“Never mind… Make your own decisions.”
Her lips briefly curled into a smile before returning to their usual line, as Konehl-Ghervil resumed questioning Penelope.
“Can you tell me where your physical body is in the real world?”
Keeping her guard up, she refrained from revealing that she could contact the outside world to locate and protect Penelope’s body.
“I don’t know…”
Penelope’s answer was unexpected. She rose and walked to the window, gazing anxiously at the bustling crowd outside.
“I entered the dream state from my room in the manor. Logically, it should still be there. But the fact that you ask implies it is no longer.”
The atmosphere grew somewhat somber. Konehl-Ghervil understood that any further questions might trigger painful memories.
The rupture with her father, the expedition’s mishap—putting herself in Penelope’s shoes, Konehl-Ghervil realized it would be incredibly difficult to face these events normally after experiencing them firsthand.
Asking questions in such a confined environment would prove counterproductive.
“Shall we go for a walk?” she offered, taking the initiative.
“Yes, let’s go! It would be good to digest; I ate too much at lunch.”
At the mere mention of going out, Esli pushed off the bed with both feet, sprang up, and rushed to open the door.
Having been bored during the conversation, she had taken the drawings Konehl-Ghervil had made and absently stared at them while lounging on the bed.
“That was a line I should have said,” Penelope remarked with a wry smile. “Thank you for your trust.”
****
Ten minutes later, the three women arrived at the lakeside, where a narrow path had been worn by sheep.
The water was crystal clear, revealing shells on the lakebed. The reeds swayed softly, and the desert’s scorching wind became cool as it passed over the water.
“I don’t know where my father, the real Flaman-Cambaton, is. An impostor has taken his place. The same appearance, the same voice, even the same habits, but I know with absolute certainty that he is not my father; he is a monster cloaked in human skin.”
Penelope’s voice carried no significant emotional fluctuation, as she recounted the matter with remarkable calm.
Konehl-Ghervil walked beside her, listening intently, while Esli ran ahead to observe a small lamb.
“It all began with the expedition two years ago. After arriving in Burdurka Town, he separated from the expedition team and secretly took people to search for the Green Plain Lizard, all for the study of the Blood Rose.”
“In fact, he found it, and his research on the Blood Rose yielded results. However, upon his return, he was like a changed man. Dandelion, being less observant, never noticed anything amiss from beginning to end. I, however, quickly discovered it through details that most people wouldn’t notice.”
“So you joined the expedition team to try and investigate the truth?”
“Yes. My series of actions displeased him, and we came into conflict. I unilaterally renounced the Cambaton surname. By then, I was even more convinced of my judgment. My investigation proceeded in secret; I tried my best not to show any suspicion regarding his identity, to prevent him from harming my family.”
“Did you not seek help from The Order?”
“The Cambaton family’s informants are practically ubiquitous throughout Florence City. Doing so would surely lead to discovery.”
Konehl-Ghervil drew a slight breath. It seemed the Baron’s promise to her back then was not a lie.
No, he could no longer be called Baron now.
“This past June, I once again accompanied the expedition team to the town. This expedition was undoubtedly fortunate; collaborating with the town’s exploration team, we discovered the lizard’s lair.”
“Allow me to interrupt for a moment.”
Konehl-Ghervil slowed her pace slightly.
“Please, speak.” Penelope nodded softly.
“Do you know the truth behind the expedition team’s demise and the town’s disappearance?”
The woman hesitated, then pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it.
Konehl-Ghervil easily recognized the chilling, grotesque lizard head drawing she had seen that morning.
The ink on the paper in Penelope’s hand was fresh; it was likely a copied version. At the bottom, those few symbols were visible.
“Little of my memory remains. I have almost no recollection of exploring the lizard’s lair or the subsequent events. I only vaguely remember seeing it in the darkness.”
“After returning, I prayed to the Goddess, hoping to find my lost memories in dreams. I was once again blessed by the Goddess; fragments of memory began to appear continuously in my dreams. Each time I awoke, I would sketch the scenes I had dreamt in my notebook.”
“Perhaps the Goddess was protecting me, for after each recording, these memories recovered through dreams would slowly fade again. I tore off some crucial parts and hid them well, to prevent harm to those around me or being exploited. During this time, Father Aylmer and Dr. Blumberg disappeared, and the Holy See, the Hospital Department, and even the Epidemic Prevention Bureau intervened in the investigation. There was little I could do. The only recourse I could think of was to write to you. The last time I entered a dream to search for memories, I failed to return to reality, and I have been in Burdurka Town ever since.”
This information aligned with what Konehl-Ghervil had learned from Dandelion, leaving her unable to find any significant discrepancies. What she truly wanted to ask was a question that had long troubled her:
“Does the Goddess truly make exceptions for individuals?”
This question was directed at Govet-Ghervil.
‘She is lying!’
A cold voice echoed in Konehl-Ghervil’s mind.
‘Since my own birth and the dawn of my memory, the Goddess has never responded to a single soul.’