Early that morning, Konehl-Ghervil hastily consumed some bread and milk at home, leaving a vegetable-based, low-fat breakfast for Govet-Ghervil, before eagerly making her way to the bank entrance to wait.
After the previous night’s unsettling encounter, she knew that any financial ties with that fellow Callan would inevitably become a vulnerability, leaving her susceptible to bewildering threats at any moment.
As a nun, if news of such treatment were to spread, how would her neighbors and fellow clergy at the church perceive her?
Being branded as imprudent would be the least of her worries.
The reputation and standing of the abbey, painstakingly built by the Mother Superior, could not be tarnished by her actions.
It was best to sever all financial entanglements as soon as possible.
She also needed to find an opportunity to clarify with Callan that certain intimacies were reserved solely for lovers.
In her view, Callan, having grown up without friends and then joining such a frigid institution as the hospital department, had developed a somewhat twisted personality, making her inability to understand normal interactions between friends understandable.
Though she herself wasn’t entirely adept at such matters, having transmigrated from the twenty-first century with its advanced information technology, she felt capable of offering some guidance.
****
At ten in the morning, the bank opened its doors precisely on schedule.
Their arrogant operating hours stirred a hint of envy within her.
Drawing on her previous experience, she successfully identified herself and located Brabant.
This time, he was standing by a conference room door.
Numerous men and women in formal attire emerged from the meeting, greeting her with warmth and enthusiasm, uttering peculiar remarks such as:
“Should any leaks occur, please do not hesitate to contact us…”
“We’ve repaired the roads for you, clearing some trees to ensure smooth passage for even automobiles; these are complimentary services, requiring no additional payment…”
She responded politely to each in turn, despite not recognizing any of them.
Their words barely registered, her mind consumed solely by the funds in her account.
“…How should I put this to you… I never anticipated things would turn out this way.”
“The higher-ups have only just formally notified me…”
Clutching an account book, he flipped through it with a troubled expression, the thin man appearing rather indecisive and overly fastidious.
Konehl-Ghervil’s polite smile, reserved for those who had greeted her, vanished, replaced by a silent, intense stare fixed upon the man.
Sometimes, silence proved more potent than any interrogation.
“You… aren’t you going to ask what happened?”
“Aren’t you curious what I’m thinking?” she retorted, her face devoid of expression.
“You must be thinking about your account.” Brabant, with the hand holding the ledger behind his back, used his other hand to stroke his mustache, confident in his deduction.
“No, I was contemplating how many bullets a lean, middle-aged man, approximately forty years old, would need to consume before he ceased treating people like fools.”
“Oh… that’s a rather dangerous thought indeed, and if there were a better option, he wouldn’t wish to consume even one.”
“Alas…”
With a sigh,
“I’ve already braced myself for the worst possible outcome—that my account remains frozen. You undoubtedly have your own difficulties, rest assured, I am not an unreasonable person.”
“Not at all. The account has been unfrozen. We never renege on our promises.”
“…Were you just messing with me?”
“As you saw, those people just now… some of them hail from the Royal Capital, they are prominent figures from various industries—primarily construction and its derivatives—and some have even achieved monopolies.” Faced with the young woman’s skepticism, the man immediately offered his explanation.
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
A premonition of ill tidings crept over her.
‘Surely the bank hadn’t invested her money, had they?’
If his words held true, those individuals in the meeting must be exceedingly wealthy, certainly not in need of a mere three hundred gold coins.
‘Did Brabant intend for her to use this money to purchase something else?’
‘There couldn’t possibly be “financial products” in this era, could there?’
“Unless this is of utmost importance, there’s no need to waste any more time. I wish to withdraw five hundred Soldeau, immediately.”
Unwilling to prolong the encounter, she preemptively refused before the man could even make his request.
After withdrawing the money, she planned to visit the morning market, as there was precious little food left at home.
Once she had purchased provisions, she would seek out an electric kettle, putting an end to the arduous task of heating water on the stove.
“It is a very, very important matter.”
The man emphasized his point twice, then sheepishly handed her the account book.
It was a ledger, simply compiled and summarized.
As she turned the pages, the sheer amounts listed for just a few items left her utterly speechless.
Restoration of the Goddess Statue Bust: 32,110 Soldeau.
Transportation of the Sacred Bell: 15,700 Soldeau.
Orchard Planning and Renovation: 9,250 Soldeau.
There were many other entries, filling over a dozen pages of the ledger.
Konehl-Ghervil’s head swam as she read, and she returned the book before even reaching the end.
Even just a few arbitrary items added together amounted to several thousand Trin Gold Coins.
The total would easily exceed ten thousand Trin Gold Coins.
“Did you build a new church in Mistfall City?”
The items recorded in the ledger could only point to a church, or perhaps… an abbey.
‘Wait!’
‘It couldn’t be, could it?’
That place had been reduced to ruins.
How much time had truly passed?
Even if counted from July 1st, it was barely over two months.
It couldn’t possibly be rebuilt so quickly…
Recalling the content of the greetings from those individuals, she lifted her head, her eyes wide with disbelief.
The sheepish smile on Brabant’s face was replaced by a confident smirk.
“Do you believe in miracles?”
****
An hour and a half later, the man drove her to the forest adjacent to Canary Street.
Indeed, as they had claimed, the road was exceptionally wide, easily accommodating two to three automobiles abreast.
Standing at the entrance of exquisite white marble, and looking through the fence, she could clearly discern the bell tower and other church-like structures within.
Some were entirely new constructions, while others had been meticulously restored upon their original foundations.
Aside from the recently planted saplings in the garden, the rest bore striking resemblance to the abbey she had first seen upon arriving in this world.
“How did you manage this?”
She uttered the question, her heart pounding with astonishment.
“The birth of a miracle requires ample financial resources, manpower, and materials, top-tier company teams invited from the Royal Capital, and, of course, most importantly, His Majesty’s decree.”
Brabant’s posture was both humble and relaxed, his tone brimming with pride.
“With these conditions in place, the difficulty was far less than you might imagine.
Most of it was repaired and expanded upon the original foundation, meticulously following complete design blueprints.”
“Now, let me tell you about the alterations.”
The man led her to a side entrance that offered a partial view of the rear of the property.
“Building upon the original structure, the architectural footprint has been expanded to 120 mu (TL Note: A traditional Chinese unit of land area, approximately 0.1647 acres or 666.7 square meters.), an additional 300 mu have been designated for the abbey’s orchard and cultivated land, and one-tenth of Agor Forest has been incorporated into the abbey’s grounds.”
“Agor Forest?”
Konehl-Ghervil had only known that this forest was not small, but had never known its name.
She recalled that Agor was the name of the river adjacent to Mistfall City.
“The largest tributary of the Agor River flows through this forest, hence its name.”
“These are the keys.” The man presented a heavy bundle of marked brass keys.
“May I go inside and look around?”
“Of course.
Given Solis Abbey’s historical and unique nature, it does not belong to The Order.
This means that this abbey, which cost 692,800 Soldeau to restore and expand, is your personal property.
You do not need to seek my permission to enter.”
Upon hearing ‘692,800 Soldeau’ and ‘personal property,’ her hand, holding the keys, trembled uncontrollably, and her heartbeat quickened.
So this was what it felt like to become rich overnight.
Money truly could intoxicate a person…
“If I may be so bold… how much is 692,800 Soldeau in gold coins?”
Uncharacteristically, her ability to calculate money had deserted her.
“43,300 Trin Gold Coins.”
“!”
Her heart pounded violently, taking three full minutes to calm.
Then, her scant remaining rationality brought forth a question:
“Why would the Royal Family help me restore the abbey?”
“This is an commendation for your contributions to Florence City and the Kingdom.”
The misunderstanding dissolved.
So those high-and-mighty figures, who only ever gave orders, weren’t bad people after all!
“The total reward is 40,000 Trin Gold Coins.”
“Please convey my gratitude to His Majesty.”
“My pleasure.
Before that, please sign this IOU for 3,000 Trin Gold Coins, totaling 48,000 Soldeau, owed to this bank.”
The parchment and pen were handed to her, and Konehl-Ghervil, dizzy with excitement, signed her name in the indicated spot without a second thought.
Only after signing did she react.
“3,000 Trin Gold Coins owed, when did… are you mistaken?”
“There is no mistake.
His Majesty’s commendation was 40,000 Trin Gold Coins.
The restoration of the abbey cost 43,300 Trin Gold Coins.
After deducting your original five thousand Soldeau and factoring in interest, you still owe 3,000 Trin Gold Coins, with installment payments permitted,” Brabant stated with a professional smile.
‘That scoundrel…’
‘So this was the trap!’
‘Such a good thing falling into my lap was clearly suspicious.’
‘Trying to trick me?’
‘Not a chance!’
Seizing the IOU, she quickly retreated a few steps, widening the distance between them.
She raised the parchment in her hand, gnashing her teeth as she tried to tear it forcefully.
Three thousand Trin Gold Coins was almost enough to buy her life; moreover, what would she use to repay Blood Rose?
It went without saying which was more important: her life or her credit.
Brabant stood his ground, unperturbed, as if he had anticipated this.
Konehl-Ghervil quickly realized the reason for his composure—the parchment was specially made; she couldn’t tear it, and if crumpled, it would quickly smooth itself out without a single crease.
Shortly after, the man returned from his car with a glass of water.
“Perhaps you’d like a glass of water to rest?”
Her hands fell limply to her sides, and she looked up, her face a picture of despair.
“If I renounce my vows and return to secular life now, would it still be possible to forgo the abbey?”