“You are…”
Three minutes later, Dr. Callan opened her door, her eyes nearly bulging from their sockets as she gazed at the woman in a currant-colored gown standing on her doorstep.
Her snow-white hair, slightly curled at the ends, cascaded to her waist, held back by several black bows.
Her figure was graceful, and her demeanor was in no way inferior to that of royalty or nobility.
Mysterious, noble, and unfathomable, she possessed the sternness and authority befitting one of high standing.
This was Dr. Callan’s initial impression of the woman.
Yet another individual of Konehl-Ghervil’s caliber.
Upon closer inspection of her features, she bore a striking resemblance to Konehl-Ghervil! She appeared somewhat more mature, and with a different hairstyle, the likeness would be even more pronounced.
“Where is she?”
“…Who?”
Confronted by the familiar voice, Dr. Callan was slow to react.
“Who else could it be?”
The woman furrowed her brow slightly.
“My adorable little sister, of course.”
Before Dr. Callan could fully grasp the meaning of her words, a faint breeze, fragrant with roses, brushed past her side, and the white-haired woman stepped into the house.
Catching sight of the young girl slowly descending the stairs, the woman’s expression immediately transformed. She awkwardly rushed forward, clutching the girl’s hand, then bent over and clung to her like an ornament, completely abandoning her earlier noble, mysterious, and dignified aura.
“Hehe… you must have bought something when you went out this morning, right? I’m so hungry. Is there any food left at home?”
“Yes.”
The girl looked up at her, responding with a somewhat dazed gaze, then withdrew her hand and walked into the kitchen.
Standing dumbfounded at the doorway, Dr. Callan felt a surge of regret.
She shouldn’t have been so impulsive.
Such matters required mutual consent and gradual progression.
Just as she contemplated escaping from Room 101, a question halted her intention.
“Who made her so angry?”
The white-haired woman’s voice was hushed, careful not to be overheard by the person in the kitchen.
“…Are you Govet-Ghervil… Senior?”
“Who else would I be?”
Govet-Ghervil scrutinized the timid woman, then leaned forward slightly, raising her hand to deliver a chopping blow to Dr. Callan’s head.
“Did you bully her, you little pervert?”
A pang of pain shot through Dr. Callan, and she rubbed her forehead.
“I…”
“I’m sorry…”
“A little pervert like you apologizing? It seems more serious than I imagined.”
With a sigh, Govet-Ghervil added,
“Go in and coax her quickly. Try to be the main chef, and remember, don’t let her poison the food.”
Was she concerned for her relative or her own stomach?
Dr. Callan felt a headache brewing.
She wished this unreliable sister would join her inside.
It wasn’t avoidance; she was truly at her wit’s end.
Not knowing the state of mind of the person in the kitchen was the primary concern.
It wasn’t quite anger, nor was it a mere sulk.
This ambiguous state was the most troublesome, impossible to address effectively.
A second person might improve the atmosphere.
“Go on, don’t rely on others. You caused the trouble, so you figure out how to fix it.”
Under constant urging, she gritted her teeth and entered the kitchen.
The sight that greeted her made her headache worse.
The girl was holding a salt shaker, pouring its contents into the beaten eggs as if salt were boundless.
“Let me do it. You go attend to your lazy, gluttonous sister.”
Quickly taking the nearly empty salt shaker, Dr. Callan pulled her aside, preventing her from touching other ingredients.
“Mm…”
She agreed verbally, but her body remained still.
Turning back, Dr. Callan saw the girl standing rooted to the spot, her eyes vacant.
This was it.
Had she broken her?
Was a hug truly so offensive?
She had been so restrained.
Could she not accept the sudden revelation, having been struck by it?
Dr. Callan tried to put herself in Konehl-Ghervil’s shoes.
If she had always considered Konehl-Ghervil a friend, only to discover one day that Konehl-Ghervil harbored different feelings for her, confessing her love during a private moment.
If it were truly as she imagined… then… then she would have arrived in heaven…
What in the world was she thinking???
She pinched her thigh hard.
The pain cleared her mind of these self-indulgent fantasies.
She was a kind, innocent nun; how could things devolve into a story from a novel!
It was all because of those strange books she bought in Florence to research.
Amidst her worries, she noticed that the remaining salt from the shaker had been poured into another dish.
Never mind that; comforting the girl was paramount.
Organizing her words in her mind, she reached out to stroke the girl’s head, nearly touching her before the girl gave a slight bow.
“Govet-Ghervil’s lunch will be left to you. I’m a bit tired and wish to go upstairs to rest. Oh, and she likes roasted meat; don’t overcook it, and make the flavor slightly rich.”
Seconds later, only Dr. Callan remained in the kitchen.
She understood less and less. From her tone and expression, Konehl-Ghervil didn’t seem angry, and her detailed instructions didn’t suggest a sulk, yet her attitude felt distant.
“If you don’t start cooking soon, I’ll truly starve to death.”
Govet-Ghervil rubbed her empty stomach, peering halfway into the kitchen with a resentful expression.
“Did she say anything to you?”
“She told me to help you correct your thinking.”
That, then, was a sign of anger.
Dr. Callan breathed a sigh of relief.
If there were no emotions at all, that would be truly hopeless.
“If you think it’s too slow, come help.”
She took out an onion.
“Wash it and slice it thinly.”
“You little pervert, you’re so heartless! I just said I’m starving, do you really want me dead? Think about who is most likely to help you salvage this relationship right now!”
“If you don’t want to help, then leave. Why so much chatter?”
Donning an apron, Dr. Callan shooed away the person at the doorway who, despite her noble demeanor and beautiful appearance, behaved like a mischievous child.
An hour later, at the dining table, she recounted the events to a sated Govet-Ghervil.
This included the monastery, the contract, and the purchase of the Blood Rose. She simplified and omitted some of the details of what transpired in the bedroom.
After her explanation, she was met with a gaze reserved for a true pervert.
“My sister’s pure, kind, and innocent heart has been corrupted by you. Do you intend to atone with burning at the stake or by hanging?”
“No matter what you think, I will not give up. I don’t want to live with regrets.”
Dr. Callan completely ignored Govet-Ghervil, who seemed to be reveling in the spectacle, and continued to express her own views.
“So, because of your selfishness, you disregard her feelings?” Govet-Ghervil, now slightly serious, regained some of her composure and authority.
“I…”
A silence descended.
Someone who had long been accustomed to solitude might not even realize they overlooked the feelings of others.
It had become a habit, and changing it would prove immensely difficult.
In fairness, she did not wish to see the girl upset, and even less did she wish to see her cry.
“Hesitating even on this question only makes your promises seem grand and hollow,” Govet-Ghervil remarked, a hint of condemnation in her voice, then blinked.
The conversation effectively ended there.
As Dr. Callan rose and walked towards the staircase, she called out to Govet-Ghervil,
“As her relative, I wish to know your stance on this matter.”
“Does my stance truly matter to you?” Govet-Ghervil asked without turning around.
“No, but it matters greatly to Konehl-Ghervil.”
“A fine answer.”
A faint smile touched Govet-Ghervil’s lips.
“Then I shall, with some reluctance, enlighten you. I will not interfere too subjectively with her thoughts, but I will always stand by her side.”
“Also, allow me to remind you that a part of my memory indicates the burdens carried by the Ghervil bloodline were a thousand, even ten thousand, times heavier than you could ever imagine.”