A Dream’s Glimpse and an Unexpected Gift

After exchanging pleasantries, Ghervil finally understood why Mrs. Penelope-Rose had appeared at the church and sought her out.

Excluding their near-collision on the roadside, this marked their first official meeting.

As Mrs. Penelope-Rose had explained, without the clue Ghervil provided, she would have faced the same grim fate as Angeli or Luke.

She regarded Ghervil as her savior.

As the only florist with a long-standing contract with the Holy See, primarily delivering Blood Roses, she would often attend services after her deliveries.

Having heard from Bishop Sartre that Ghervil would be at the Holy See today, she had waited specifically to express her gratitude in person.

Walking side-by-side down the corridor, the briefcase’s weight compelled Ghervil to constantly switch hands.

Mrs. Penelope-Rose had noticed the briefcase immediately upon their meeting, and after a brief observation, she confirmed that the young woman was not its original owner.

“That briefcase… I saw it in Ms. Komel’s hands before. Did you encounter her?”

“It’s in my hands now, so it’s mine,” Ghervil replied, glancing up, effectively giving a sideways answer.

“You know her?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘know’ her…” Mrs. Penelope-Rose’s expression clouded over, subtly revealing a flicker of concern for her benefactor.

“I trust you can infer from my business of transporting Blood Roses that I am not entirely an ordinary person. Ms. Komel, the scholar from the Dream Society, I’ve heard some rather unsavory rumors about her…”

She lowered her gaze slightly, confirming the perplexed look on the young woman’s face indicated her ignorance of the matter.

“She has a fondness for young women and their dreams, and this ‘fondness’… it carries a rather specific implication…”

Relaying such a matter to a pure nun was difficult, so she chose the most circuitous phrasing possible.

Thud.

The briefcase hit the floor, leaving Ghervil frozen in place for a long moment, completely unmasking the shift from confusion to astonishment on her face.

“I just need to confirm one thing: Lalviye-Komel is a woman, isn’t she???”

Mrs. Penelope-Rose’s expression grew even more troubled.

“Yes… Rumor has it that she tells her full name to any young woman she fancies upon their first meeting, and bestows costly gifts upon them.”

Whether it was merely her imagination or not, Ghervil suddenly wanted to throw away the briefcase along with the book inside. Unsavory gossip had even reached a florist, indicating that the previous owner of the case had engaged in such behavior more than once, making her a veritable ‘渣女’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term referring to a woman who is a ‘player’ or emotionally manipulative, often in a romantic context).

She did not deny that her sexual orientation remained unchanged; if forced to choose between a handsome man and a beautiful woman, she would undoubtedly pick the latter.

But if it were a ‘渣女’…

“I don’t think you need to worry so much… She wouldn’t be so audacious as to make a move on a nun.”

‘One can only hope…’

Mrs. Penelope-Rose felt that her benefactor’s worldview might be shattered if this continued, so she reluctantly offered comfort despite the implications of the facts.

Ghervil remained half-skeptical.

From another perspective, she was a nun; why should she concern herself with such matters?

At worst, she could just return the thousand gold coins later and refuse her again face-to-face. After all, there were no records of any related ailments concerning her.

Thus, neither the book nor the briefcase could be discarded now.

Retrieving the briefcase once more, Ghervil quickened her pace to catch up with the woman ahead.

“Do you know where she is now? I want to return this wretched thing to her.”

“Few people have the chance to meet her. I can take you to Bishop Sartre; he should know.”

To prevent her well-intentioned lie from being exposed, Mrs. Penelope-Rose forced a smile.

Yet, targeting a nun was indeed an egregious act; at the very least, the Bishop of the Holy See needed to be aware.

However, the Dream Society… although this organization had some deep collaborations with the Priesthood, it was not strictly subordinate to it. It was an organization as ancient as the Goddess of Retrocognition’s Priesthood, holding a somewhat equivalent status in this country.

She couldn’t help but feel worried again.

“Alright, but we need to hurry, or the service will begin soon.”

Ghervil felt a slight dissatisfaction, realizing she would still have to meet the Bishop after all.

Exiting the deep corridor, and passing through a side chapel, they arrived at the grand hall of the Holy See.

The hall was bustling with thousands of people, and more continued to stream in.

Most conversed amongst themselves, their voices kept low so as not to disturb those around them.

Mrs. Penelope-Rose spoke briefly with a nun before returning to observe her surroundings.

“Do you see that person?” she asked, pointing to a black-robed woman some distance ahead.

It appeared to be an elderly woman, but from this distance, Ghervil could only discern that her hair was pinned up, half-gray, and a badge symbolizing the Holy See adorned her shoulder.

However, her posture belied her age; she stood ramrod straight, gazing unmoving at the divine statue, towering at least a head and a half above those around her, easily surpassing 180 centimeters.

“That’s Dr. Komel of the Holy See,” Mrs. Penelope-Rose’s voice came again.

“Komel?”

“Precisely. She is the mother of the scholar who… took an interest in you. It’s said their relationship isn’t very good, and her frequent presence at the Holy See is due to this doctor.”

A strained relationship, yet they frequently converged—Ghervil couldn’t fathom what these people were thinking.

‘Perhaps they’re trying to reconcile?’

She had considered giving the briefcase to the mother, but if their relationship was poor, then perhaps not.

“Is she part of the hospital department?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but probably not. I don’t know many people in that department, and due to their work, they don’t usually reside in one place year-round.”

“So, she’s just a regular doctor…” Ghervil let out a sigh of relief.

She wasn’t sure if everyone was as easygoing as Callan. If they found something amiss with her and apprehended her without a word, that would be unfortunate.

“You can’t quite say that. Dr. Komel holds considerable renown in Mistfall City and is highly respected by many.”

“It’s too complicated to explain right now; let’s just go. I’ve found out Bishop Sartre’s location; he’s waiting in the library.”

Following Mrs. Penelope-Rose through the crowd, Ghervil couldn’t shake the feeling that the unmoving doctor ahead had noticed her.

The back of her head subtly turned, tracking their path.

‘Was it because I was carrying her daughter’s briefcase?’

Without dwelling on it, they traversed the crowd and entered the central courtyard. After walking a few minutes along the cloister, they stopped before an exquisitely carved walnut door.

“Here it is. I won’t accompany you further. If you ever need assistance, you can find me at the Holy See during one of the services each month. If the trouble and distance aren’t an issue, you could also come to Florence City; that’s my main area of operation. You can ask me for help with anything, as long as it’s within my capabilities, for I owe you a great debt.”

Mrs. Penelope-Rose offered an apologetic smile.

She hadn’t anticipated such an unexpected turn of events, leaving her without a suitable thank-you gift. Since Ghervil was a nun from that abbey, expressing gratitude with money would be too vulgar. Instead, she was willing to offer tangible assistance.

Reframing her thoughts, gaining a favor from a nun of Solis Abbey was, in any case, a gain for her.

As for the possibility of being targeted, it would be manageable in Florence, but here, she truly couldn’t help.

“There’s no need to be so polite; leading the way has already been a great help…”

Having exchanged courtesies, Ghervil waved goodbye, her spirits lifted.

More friends meant more opportunities. Her meager salary as Callan’s assistant wasn’t even enough to make ends meet; she needed to consider other avenues.

She did have a few pots of Blood Roses at home. Learning cultivation methods from the abbess and finding sales channels through cooperation would surely earn her a considerable sum.

‘This was her path to prosperity!’

“Knock, knock, knock.”

A gentle knock on the door was met by an old, amiable voice from within.

“The door is unlocked.”

Pushing the door open, Ghervil stepped into the library, bathed in an orange glow. The room was vast, with a soaring ceiling, and circular bookshelves housing tens of thousands of volumes. Glancing around, Ghervil spotted a white-robed elder standing with his back to her by a wall-mounted bookshelf.

He held a book aloft with one hand, the other clasped behind his back.

“Hello, I am Ghervil, invited here. This is the letter.”

Bowing slightly, Ghervil set down the briefcase and retrieved an envelope from her pocket.

“Hello, Ghervil. I am Sartre, and I am pleased you accepted the invitation. My dreams told me you wouldn’t come… I apologize, someone tampered with that letter.”

As the elder closed his book and turned, Ghervil was nearly startled.

It was hard to imagine a living person with such deeply sunken eye sockets; the light couldn’t even reach his lower eyelids and their vicinity, making his cheekbones protrude sharply.

Surprisingly, there weren’t many wrinkles, and he sported a long white beard, giving the impression he might close his eyes and never awaken at any moment.

The sacred white robe and crucifix he wore, however, mitigated this unsettling strangeness.

Having been a frequent resident of hospitals in her previous life, Ghervil had seen countless patients with similar countenances. She quickly composed herself, her gaze returning to normal.

Initially, from his back, she had estimated his age to be around 65 to 75. Now, she felt inclined to add another twenty years to that estimate.

“You just mentioned dreams?”

“To be precise, it is a blessing from the Goddess. One of the conditions for becoming a Bishop is to possess the ability to, to a certain extent, perceive the past or future within dreams.”

Ghervil was utterly shocked.

With such an incredible ability, the Priesthood’s methods of surveillance over her could also be explained.

A goddess’s blessing… could the Goddess truly exist?

“There’s no need to be surprised. You might possess such a talent yourself; it merely requires the right opportunity,” the elder said with a smile, handing the book to Ghervil. “As compensation for startling you and for the letter, I offer you this book. I will ensure the briefcase is delivered to Ms. Komel.”

“Can you see who the arsonist is?” She was still immersed in her shock, not noticing the contents of the book she had subconsciously accepted.

“If it were that convenient, the investigators outside wouldn’t have to work so hard. ‘Dreams’ depend on what you *can* see, not what you *wish* to see.”

“Even so… that’s still incredibly powerful…”

It was different from what she had imagined, and some of her initial enthusiasm waned.

A single word made all the difference, transforming the entire effect.

The Bishop’s kindly, narrowed eyes and the weight in her hands made her reflect on their earlier conversation.

She had indeed been noticed.

With a touch of embarrassment, she averted her gaze to the ‘compensation’ in her hands. To leave such an impression on a Bishop-level figure during their first meeting…

Fortunately, he hadn’t taken offense. Indeed, appearances could be deceiving; this Bishop possessed an extraordinary demeanor.

The book’s cover was thick and refined, likely crafted from high-quality materials.

She had already prepared the excuse of illiteracy to decline, but then her eyes caught the title, and her spirits lifted, swallowing the carefully constructed refusal.

‘Somnolence and Ailments.’

Beneath the floating title, three small characters read [Complete Edition].