It was September when Konehl-Ghervil awoke to an empty room.
Tiny motes of dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the window, forming a shimmering curtain of light within the room.
From time to time, the cheerful chirping of birds drifted in from outside.
A profound sense of tranquility, comfort, and contentment settled over her.
Both her body and spirit felt remarkably restored.
Stretching her arms and rotating her neck from side to side, she then cast aside the covers, allowing her bare feet to dangle over the edge of the bed.
No slippers awaited her on the cool floorboards.
Thus, clad only in her nightgown, she stepped onto the floor with bare feet.
Judging by the slight unfamiliarity in controlling her limbs, she surmised her slumber hadn’t been excessively long.
Approaching the window, she found the morning sunlight wonderfully warm.
As she basked in its gentle warmth, a fresh wave of drowsiness surprisingly washed over her, prompting a soft yawn as she mentally prepared to seek out a change of clothes.
Just then, the click of a turning doorknob and the soft creak of the door opening sounded behind her.
“Good morning—”
Her body still halfway turned, her greeting left incomplete, as she found herself enveloped in a deep, suffocating embrace from behind.
Most of the items her visitor had carried—hot food and pastries—now lay scattered at the threshold.
“I had prepared myself to care for you for another month, yet you surprised me by only requiring a week of waiting…”
Pressure tightened on her right shoulder, the voice intimately close, a mere whisper at her ear.
“…Have matters been properly resolved?”
Konehl-Ghervil felt a blush creep up her neck and warm her cheeks; the woman’s embrace was exceedingly tight, her bosom pressing firmly against Konehl-Ghervil’s back.
“Everything is prepared. I’ve secured a leave of absence, so we can embark on a relaxing journey without a single worry.”
“That’s not what I meant…”
She subtly twisted her body, a small, involuntary movement intended to convey her discomfort.
Her thin silk nightgown, known for its soft and delicate touch, offered little in the way of a barrier.
Consequently, being held so closely by the woman gave her the disconcerting sensation of being entirely unclothed.
“The customary time for inquiries is entirely yours to decide, or you may simply inform me whenever you feel ready to speak. Rest assured, my rank and authority are more than sufficient to handle any matter.” Her subtle hint proved utterly ineffective; the embrace showed no sign of loosening.
A sigh escaped her lips, though unheard.
‘She cared about the fallen, the ones who had sacrificed.’
‘Was this woman deliberately feigning ignorance?’
Adding to her profound discomfort, and a primary reason for her cheeks transitioning from mere redness to a burning flush, was the fact that…
For the sake of easier care and bathing, her stockings had been removed.
Her legs were entirely bare.
The woman’s long, silken-clad legs were pressed directly against Konehl-Ghervil’s skin.
A sensation far more delicate than the fine silk of her nightgown.
‘A typical embrace would never lead to such an awkward predicament. The only logical conclusion was that the woman was consumed by excessive worry.’
Unable to articulate her feelings, Konehl-Ghervil subtly bent her knees, lowering herself slightly in an attempt to minimize the points of contact.
Whether by design or mere coincidence, her small act of concession seemed to embolden her companion, who pressed on with renewed insistence.
A plump thigh, encased in black silk, then deftly insinuated itself between Konehl-Ghervil’s legs, pressing her against the wall.
Her toes were forced to lift, leaving her perched in a semi-sitting position upon the woman’s right leg, her upper body pressed uncomfortably against the window frame.
She found herself utterly trapped, caught between a rock and a hard place.
‘How had things devolved to this point? Had she inadvertently done something to provoke her companion’s ire?’
‘The reasons for her clandestine visit to Florence City had already been thoroughly explained; surely, it couldn’t still be held against her.’
‘As for any other reasons…’
Her mind was rapidly losing its capacity for coherent thought.
“You perverted, idiotic woman! What in the world are you doing to my sister?!”
Suddenly, the pressure and restraint on her body vanished. She turned to see Dr. Callan crumpled on the floor, clutching her face in agony.
Govet-Ghervil, who had seemingly materialized from nowhere, had headbutted Dr. Callan so forcefully that she was left reeling. Still not appeased, Govet-Ghervil seemed poised to launch another assault.
Leaping into the air, Govet-Ghervil was swiftly caught and cradled in Konehl-Ghervil’s arms.
“It’s a misunderstanding, Govet. Things are not as they appear.”
“I don’t care! I’m going to send that pervert to the gallows!”
The furry creature in her arms struggled with surprising ferocity.
‘Barely awake, and already the chaos had begun.’
Konehl-Ghervil felt a throbbing headache blooming behind her eyes, especially considering she had pressing matters yet to attend to.
“Then, my dearest sister, would you mind if Dr. Callan had her fill before ascending the gallows? The main course, of course, would be provided by you. Oh… and by ‘provided,’ I mean you would *be* the main course: a delectable roasted chinchilla.”
Upon hearing the saccharine, yet utterly chilling, voice from behind her, Govet-Ghervil’s furious energy instantly deflated.
“Since you believe it’s a misunderstanding, then a misunderstanding it shall be… H-hey… don’t be angry, it’s not good for your health…”
Recognizing that she had perhaps overstepped, Dr. Callan swiftly reined herself in, bending to offer Govet-Ghervil a pastry as an impromptu apology.
Simultaneously, Dr. Callan recognized a crucial truth: any attempt to express her true feelings or act upon certain impulses would necessitate an environment where she was utterly alone with Konehl-Ghervil.
Alternatively, she would need Govet-Ghervil’s explicit approval.
However, after their interactions over the past few days, she conceded that gaining such approval would be a formidable task, best set aside for the moment.
Glancing up to see the young woman’s innocent, helpless wry smile, a pang of guilt unexpectedly surfaced in Dr. Callan’s heart.
‘Such thoughts inherently defied the tenets of the Church, and would be scorned by society.’
‘Nuns were meant to be pure and immaculate; as long as they remained within the Church, they were bound to a life of chastity and celibacy.’
‘She had forgotten the precise moment when that captivating figure and exquisite face had begun to haunt her thoughts, slowly stirring a yearning that transcended the bounds of mere friendship.’
‘She knew her feelings were improper, yet she found herself utterly unable to suppress them.’
‘Perhaps there was no need to rush matters so precipitously…’
‘Both she and Konehl-Ghervil were still young, with an abundance of time stretching before them, and Govet-Ghervil had already pledged her assistance in treating the ailment.’
With these thoughts, she extended a hand, imbued with gratitude, to gently stroke the furry head of the creature being appeased with pastries.
The immediate consequence, however, was a sharp, indignant bite on her finger.
Amidst Dr. Callan’s stifled yelps of protest, the tense atmosphere gradually eased back into a semblance of normalcy.
****
A quarter of an hour later, Konehl-Ghervil, now clad in stockings and a striking black-and-white gothic gown, carried Govet-Ghervil as she followed Dr. Callan to a secluded monitoring room on the fifth floor.
“The security here is exceptionally stringent,” Dr. Callan explained, her voice grave. “An escape without attracting notice is virtually impossible. Every entrance and exit of the city is under the watchful eye of elite knights, so…”
Standing before the now-empty hospital bed, Dr. Callan left her sentence unfinished, the implication hanging heavy in the air.
Following the heart’s emergence, Esli had been transferred from the manor to this very room, placed under vigilant guard.
Yet, once the immediate danger was deemed to have passed, the guards returned to the monitoring room only to discover Esli had vanished without a trace.
“This,” Dr. Callan said, extending a hand with a stack of photographs, “is how the scene appeared at the time.”
Konehl-Ghervil silently accepted the monochrome prints, her gaze immediately dropping to examine them.
Govet-Ghervil, having gracefully leaped onto Dr. Callan’s shoulder, subtly motioned with her eyes for the doctor to step aside, allowing Konehl-Ghervil ample space.
‘Silence was paramount at such a moment.’
The photographs clearly depicted the room’s pristine condition: every piece of equipment, along with the doors and windows, remained perfectly intact. This strongly suggested that no one had forcibly entered, nor had anyone broken out from within.
On a large hospital bed, a dark, viscous liquid had spread, staining the sheets in a pattern disturbingly reminiscent of a human form.
Given the monochrome nature of the prints, it was almost certainly the indelible mark of blood.
‘A death by curse, where the entire body dissolves into a sanguine pool.’
No other outcome seemed plausible.
As Konehl-Ghervil gazed at the photographs, the haunting image of the knight swallowing the rose, then advancing towards the pulsating heart, replayed incessantly in her mind’s eye.
‘Who had controlled Esli then…’
‘And what was their ultimate aim…’
Several minutes elapsed, yet the young woman remained lost in a daze, her eyes fixed on the photographs. Govet-Ghervil, perched on Dr. Callan’s shoulder, grew increasingly agitated, while the ‘wooden’ doctor beside Konehl-Ghervil, though visibly distressed, remained paralyzed by inaction.
“Don’t you think you ought to *do* something?!”
Govet-Ghervil hissed, her voice a low, urgent murmur in Dr. Callan’s ear.
‘Though she was reluctant to admit it, Konehl-Ghervil truly considered Dr. Callan a cherished friend.’
‘Indeed, few things offered solace as effectively as a comforting embrace from a dear friend or loved one.’
‘Yet, her own body was regrettably incapable of initiating such a gesture.’
“Me?” Dr. Callan whispered, startled.
Were they truly alone, Dr. Callan would have acted without a moment’s hesitation. However, recalling their recent encounter, she had no desire to endure another headbutt.
“Who else would it be? I’ll be watching your every move! If your hands dare to stray, you know full well the consequences.”
‘This was, after all, her sister’s decision.’
‘Dr. Callan prided herself on her self-control and her ability to read a room; she certainly didn’t need to be lectured on such matters.’
Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Dr. Callan approached and gently drew the distraught young woman into her arms.
Before long, a warm, wet sensation seeped through the fabric of her shoulder.
“Everyone died,” Konehl-Ghervil murmured, her voice thick with grief.
“Only I…”
“Only I survived…”
“Esli also had a chance to live…”
“She sacrificed her own life in a mutual annihilation, ending the calamity and saving everyone.”
…
“Ishmele-Esli.”
“She truly was the hero.”
****
Deep within a grand cathedral in the Royal Capital, a woman knelt on one knee behind a white-robed elder.
She was draped in a thick wool coat, her eyes underscored by heavy dark circles, and her body trembled incessantly.
“Your control over ‘Hypothermia’ has diminished.”
The elder did not turn, his voice carrying an inherent authority that brooked no challenge.
“Yes… Your Eminence…”
The kneeling woman’s voice wavered, thick with hesitation, as if she had committed some grave error.
“Do you have anything to say regarding the failure of your promotion assessment?”
“…My own abilities proved insufficient.”
Inadvertently offending people during conversations had always been Esli’s unfortunate habit, yet facing the figure before her, she dared not utter an extra word.
Her usually slow-turning mind raced, terrified of speaking a single wrong phrase.
“Allow me to enlighten you,” the elder began, his tone formal. “To become a Plague Knight is to attain the rank of a Count, with the corresponding prestige, wealth, and status that most in this kingdom could never hope to achieve in a lifetime. Do you harbor no regrets, no sorrow for this missed opportunity?”
“I did not seek knighthood for such pursuits.”
Gathering her courage, the female knight timidly retorted.
“To sleep in every morning, to eat well and dress warmly, and to ensure your family and friends are safe from harm—these were mentioned in every one of your farewell letters.”
The elder’s voice sharpened as he abruptly turned.
“Aside from sleeping late, all those aspirations were realized long ago! Do you possess no greater ambitions?”
Esli’s brow beaded with a single drop of sweat, a rare occurrence for someone afflicted with ‘Hypothermia,’ indicating her extreme nervousness.
Her intense anxiety stemmed from the fact that those farewell letters had been hastily improvised, written as thoughts came to mind.
Though her sentiments were genuine, to an outsider, they likely seemed dismissive.
“Never mind, never mind.”
The elder slowly shook his head, waving a dismissive hand.
“You may leave. You are not permitted to depart the Royal Capital by so much as a step until a decision regarding your punishment has been rendered.”
“I understand, Your Eminence.”
The elder turned and took a few steps, then noticed the knight remained motionless on one knee.
“Do you have any further questions?”
“…I wish to know the reason I was ordered to attack her and consume that rose.”
For some inexplicable reason, asking this question brought Esli a strange sense of relief, none of the tension she had anticipated.
“It was to prevent her from bringing calamity into reality and to eliminate the mythical creature. Though you ultimately consumed it, the outcome remains the same.”
To Esli’s surprise, the elder, who had paused, did not seem angered by her question.
It was clearly a fabrication; her intuition screamed that if Konehl-Ghervil had consumed the rose, the consequences would have been utterly unbearable.
Unable to find a flaw in his words, she reluctantly shifted her line of inquiry.
“What was the purpose of the white rose?”
No answer came, and the air thickened, growing cold.
After a moment, the elder sighed deeply, his gaze lifting to the statue of the Goddess.
“Perhaps when you reach the level of a Plague Knight, you will be deemed worthy of that answer.”