Awakening and A New Arrangement

The moment her foot touched the first stair, Dr. Callan’s voice, following close behind, dissolved into an indistinct murmur.

Her body grew heavier and heavier with each step.

It was purely by sheer willpower that she reached the bedroom door, by which point her awareness had completely faded.

When her eyes finally fluttered open again, the room was bathed in bright daylight.

A slight shift brought a wave of discomfort; her entire left arm was numb, and something soft lay draped over her.

Attempting to move further, she found herself strangely constrained, as if pinned down by something.

With a strenuous effort, she turned her head, catching a glimpse of beautiful gold through her hazy vision.

Such gold…

The image slowly sharpened.

Then, a profile—a face of exquisite beauty—came into focus, resting barely half an arm’s length away.

Its loveliness surpassed anyone she had ever seen, in this life or the last.

Her own hand lay trapped beneath it, serving as a makeshift pillow.

“…”

Ghervil’s eyes widened, her mind still reeling, as she instinctively yanked her hand free and lashed out with a kick.

Thud.

Dr. Callan, positioned close to the edge of the bed, tumbled to the floor from the force of the kick.

With one hand rubbing her backside and the other her head, Dr. Callan groggily opened her eyes, a yawn escaping her lips.

“Hah… you’re finally awake…”

“You…”

Standing up from the floor, Dr. Callan noticed the nun sitting on the bed, staring blankly at her, utterly unresponsive.

‘Had she slept so long she’d become simple-minded?’

After the young woman fainted yesterday, Dr. Callan, lacking the key to Bedroom 101, had carried her downstairs to rest on the sofa.

A preliminary check had indicated she was merely sleeping, so there had been little cause for concern.

Yet, when she hadn’t woken from noon until evening, Dr. Callan, fearing she might catch a chill, had moved her to Bedroom 100.

She had kept watch until around two or three in the morning before her own exhaustion overtook her, causing her to vaguely collapse onto the bed and drift off.

Upon realizing she’d been kicked off the bed, she had braced herself for a scolding and prepared her retort, only to find no further reaction, leaving her with an undeserved kick to the backside.

However, her current state seemed more serious than mere sleepiness or waking confusion; the fact that she hadn’t been roused earlier was deeply unsettling.

“Look into my eyes, and tell me your name?”

Climbing onto the bed, Dr. Callan cupped the nun’s cheeks, gently but firmly aligning her vacant, dark golden eyes with her own.

“Name… my name…”

“Yes, louder. Speak your name.”

“Konehl…”

“And then?” Dr. Callan pressed the young woman, leaning closer. The very next instant, the vacant pupils regained their sparkle, and a fair, delicate foot shot directly towards her face.

“Again!?”

While she couldn’t help being ambushed and kicked in her sleep, now fully awake, her reflexes were lightning-fast. She instantly seized the ankle, halting the pale, tender foot barely three centimeters from her face.

A not-so-strong force emanated along the ankle, and the body continued to struggle. Just to be safe, Dr. Callan seized the other ankle, then, with a slight twist, flipped the nun upside down, suspending her in the air, facing Dr. Callan’s feet.

“What in the world is wrong with you?”

Ghervil, her hands braced front and back against her skirt to prevent any exposure, replied with an impassive expression,

“Please put me down first.”

Her brain had finally emerged from the after-effects of the illness, and her memories seamlessly reconnected.

The initial period of temporary memory loss, from waking until now, could be attributed to her brain’s shallow understanding of her surroundings, prompting her body to react to external stimuli.

In simpler terms, she hadn’t known what she was doing, and even if she had, she couldn’t have controlled it.

“If you think you’re in any position to negotiate with me right now, my dear neighbor, you’re sorely mistaken,” Dr. Callan scoffed, bringing the young woman’s feet together. “With one hand, she easily held them aloft, while the other hovered teasingly over her soles, poised to tickle.

“Since the day I entered this world, no one has dared to kick my backside. And you? You not only kicked it, but you tried to kick my face!”

“Are you angry?”

Ghervil’s single question completely disarmed Dr. Callan.

“It’s not a matter of being angry or not… you at least need to tell me what happened…”

“If you are angry, I can apologize, and I will accept any punishment without complaint.”

Ghervil lifted her gaze, meeting Dr. Callan’s eyes with utmost seriousness.

“I’ve recalled some memories. When the Abbess was still alive, she often punished me, and no matter how difficult it was, I always persevered.”

‘Since this one is immune to both soft and hard tactics, I’ll try a different approach.’

‘The so-called sincerity is the ultimate killer move.’

‘Of course, this ‘sincerity’ would need quotation marks; it felt a little disrespectful to the Abbess, spreading rumors about her, and she hoped the Abbess wouldn’t be angry if she knew.’

‘She couldn’t help her condition.’

‘What should I do…’

Dr. Callan hadn’t intended for things to become so tense; she had merely meant to play a slightly mischievous prank.

Now, she found herself painted as the villain, despite having cared for Ghervil for so long.

‘Forget it… For now, I remain skeptical about Abbess Anthea’s death. But for the nun, remembering the Abbess must surely stir some unavoidable pain.’

“If you want to sleep, rest a while longer. You haven’t eaten in nearly twenty hours. I’ll go prepare something for you.”

Dr. Callan, releasing Ghervil’s ankles, slipped one arm around her waist and the other beneath her calves, lifting her in a bridal carry before gently placing her back onto the bed. Thoughtfully, she pulled the covers over her, then left the room.

“The effect… was surprisingly good?”

After the door closed, Ghervil sat on the edge of the bed, a hint of bewilderment in her eyes.

The unfamiliar layout of the room clearly indicated she was in Dr. Callan’s home. She had slept for nearly twenty hours, meaning today was Sunday!

It was the day of worship.

She had specifically inquired with Mrs. Keith and learned that the nuns of Solis Abbey did not belong to any diocese or order; rather, the Abbey itself functioned as an independent religious organization.

Typically, the organization’s funds were derived from religious taxes paid by taxpayers and remunerations from various activities, covering the members’ food, clothing, and travel.

To a certain extent, this amounted to a salary, though some portions were disbursed in kind.

Now, belonging to the Solis Abbey, which existed in name only, she had no income. If she joined another religious organization, she would receive a salary, at least alleviating her worries about food and clothing.

Five minutes later, wearing ill-fitting slippers, she descended to the first floor, found Dr. Callan cooking, and voiced her thoughts, seeking advice. Her words were met with a stare that suggested she was an idiot.

“In this country, only His Holiness the Pope and Her Majesty the Queen can be considered superiors to the Abbess of Solis Abbey,” Dr. Callan explained. “The Abbey’s status and significance are extraordinary; even if you wished to join another organization, they wouldn’t dare accept you.”

Ghervil, however, disagreed.

“No matter how high its status, without money, it will eventually collapse. Funds are the foundation for the Abbey’s normal operation!”

“…”

Dr. Callan was at a loss for how to explain this to the girl. From what she knew of the former Abbess, the remuneration from any one of the incidents she had resolved would have been enough to last a lifetime. The Abbess herself cared little for wealth or fame, often refusing payment or accepting only a small fraction.

Had the Abbess ever publicly claimed to be short on funds, countless people would have lined up to offer her money, even if she did nothing at all.

‘How could a nun, raised by such a humble and unmaterialistic figure, turn out to be such a little money-grubber?’

‘It truly made no sense.’

“If you’re truly short on money, you can become my assistant. I’ll draw a portion from my monthly salary and give it to you,” Dr. Callan said casually, blotting several pieces of cut chicken dry with a paper towel.

“Can’t I just join your organization?”

Without a change in expression, Dr. Callan squeezed the paper towel in her hand, wringing out the moisture. This time, she didn’t even bother to look at Ghervil.

“The hospital department doesn’t want a little kid like you, and you wouldn’t be competent enough for this job—even my current assistants aren’t necessarily up to it. Besides, at your age, you have a whole life ahead of you. Isn’t there anything you truly want to do?”

“Yes.”

“What? If it’s something normal, I might offer some advice.”

“Earning money.”

“…”

After a brief pause, Ghervil nodded. Moving from Dr. Callan’s left to her right, she smiled, preventing the atmosphere from growing too cold.

“Being your assistant is fine, but you’ll need to give me thirty percent of your salary, guarantee long-term stability, pay me monthly, and never be late.”

“Such demands. One percent at most, or it’s off the table.”

“Deal!”

“You…”

Dr. Callan froze on the spot. Any normal person would reject one percent without a second thought. It wasn’t that she was stingy; in reality, even one percent of her basic monthly salary was a considerable sum for an ordinary person.

She had offered one percent merely to deter the nun.

Her job involved earning money at the risk of her life, and she certainly wouldn’t assign Ghervil any dangerous tasks. She hadn’t even decided on the assistant’s duties yet, and already she’d lost one percent of her salary.

‘There was ample reason to suspect she had been tricked earlier, while still in bed.’

The strategy of retreating to advance, it seemed, was effective every time. A hint of fawning appeared on Ghervil’s grinning face.

“Forgive my impertinence, Senior, but how much is your total monthly salary?”

Dr. Callan glared at her, finding the term ‘Senior’ a little too saccharine.

“Just be normal for a moment. I’ll give you a maximum of 20 Denarii a month, and if you don’t complete your work, you won’t get a single Denarius!”

After a moment’s thought, she decided she couldn’t let the nun develop a habit of getting something for nothing; Ghervil needed to understand that money meant nothing in the face of life itself.

Twenty it was. Better than nothing, Ghervil conceded, her face falling considerably.

With a job and a steady income, she could finally buy what she wanted without too many worries, perhaps a pair of light summer stockings that would cost one to two months of her salary.

Her mood deflated.

Noticing Dr. Callan preparing cream of mushroom chicken stew, she offered a question devoid of sincerity or emotion.

“Do you need a hand~”

“I’d prefer you not cause any more trouble, or perhaps prepare a reasonable explanation for me later.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying~”

‘A pang of guilt.’

Quickly feigning ignorance, she scurried to the table and sat down to wait.

“Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!”

The ringing of a bicycle bell drifted in from outside the window.

A young man, wearing a cap, pulled up on his bicycle and stopped in front of number 101.

“Excuse me, is Sister Ghervil home? There’s a letter for you here.”