It’s over!
It’s over!
Ghervil’s usually quick-witted mind was utterly blank, unable to conjure a single countermeasure.
The icy touch against her neck was, without a doubt, that very short sword.
The thrust she had aimed behind the pillar earlier had shown no quarter whatsoever.
Even the slightest movement could result in her head being severed from her body.
How could she actually go through with murder to silence someone?
She hadn’t lived enough yet!
“Don’t be rash!”
“I was just passing by!”
“We can talk this through!”
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t hear the conversation in the prayer room…?”
“…”
After a flurry of desperate pleas, no response came.
Instead, the sensation on her neck… grew less chilling.
“Pfft!”
Unrestrained laughter erupted from behind her.
“What did you imagine I would do? Something a villainous madman would?”
Something slid down her shoulder, landed in her arms, then tumbled to the floor.
Glancing down, she saw a smooth, straight branch.
She had been held hostage by a mere branch for all this time?
Though her body relaxed, a surge of indignant anger flared within her.
She had clearly been played for a fool!
Had she not been caught in the wrong first, she would have certainly slapped the book she held against the woman’s face.
“I hope you get water stuck between your teeth when you drink today! I hope market prices soar when you go shopping! And I hope you suffer from insomnia all night long!”
Seeing the girl turn, delivering such an utterly harmless curse with a defiant tone, the woman was amused once more, her laughter completely uninhibited.
She felt truly fortunate to have come to the Holy Sanctuary and to have met a member of the fabled Solis Abbey.
She had expected someone as solemn and inscrutable as their abbess, possessing a youthful appearance yet exuding the aura of a high-ranking individual.
She never imagined they would be so… to her taste…
She had seen her share of beautiful girls, but this nun was far more captivating… A pity, though, that she was a nun.
Her unpleasant mood dissipated almost entirely at once.
What could Ghervil do? This mischievous woman harbored potentially inappropriate intentions towards her.
Her simple act of ignoring did not negate the other’s thoughts.
She couldn’t win in a fight, nor could she call the police… as, in a sense, she *was* the police.
Her only option, then, was to flee.
“I need to go, there’s nothing else. I’ve already delivered your ‘gift’ to Bishop Sartre. I can give you my answer now: I’m not interested in unrealistic invitations. If you continue to bother me, I’ll ask my detective friends to ensure your promotion fails.”
“Are you referring to Ramsey?”
As Ghervil took a step sideways, the woman mirrored her movement.
“He and I are on the same level, and while his opinion is indeed significant, it isn’t decisive.”
Ghervil hesitated, on the verge of speaking, realizing that at this rate, the other woman had no intention of letting her leave.
With the service still ongoing, it was unlikely anyone would pass by, making an escape exceedingly difficult.
“Bishop Sartre is truly generous, to give you this book directly.”
Lalviye-Komel remarked, her gaze falling upon the book Ghervil held.
“Perhaps he, too, disapproves of your methods.”
“Then am I to understand you’re on their side? Otherwise, there’s no explaining why such a precious item would be handed over to you so readily,” the woman suddenly stated.
Why would she ask that?
Ghervil, not rushing to answer, looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“Silence implies consent, then…”
The woman, wearing a triumphant smirk, pulled a folded metallic object from the pocket of her formal dress.
With one hand, she held it, half-unfolded.
A pair of handcuffs.
…Ghervil finally understood the reason for the question.
The Epidemic Prevention Bureau suspected the Holy Sanctuary—no… perhaps it was just this woman’s personal conclusion, as she had mentioned coming to see her mother secretly, without anyone else knowing.
Seeing her disagreement, was the woman planning to simply pin a crime on her?
“You despicable wretch, is this how you coerce and entice innocent young women?”
“Where did you hear these rumors slandering my name?”
The woman suddenly froze.
“Never mind… I don’t care about such things anyway.”
She dangled the handcuffs before Ghervil.
“Two choices: either you come back to the bureau with me for questioning, or… you accompany me for a cup of coffee, discuss what you overheard, and afterward, I’ll drive you home.”
****
Twenty minutes later, they found themselves in a luxuriously appointed coffee house on a city street.
In a private, soundproofed room, two fragrant cups of coffee sat on the table, and at the woman’s request, a plate of sugar cubes had been set before Ghervil.
What appeared to be two choices was, in reality, only one.
Her primary motivation for agreeing was the promise of a free ride home, which would save her at least twenty Denarii.
The coffee on the table remained untouched.
While the incident at the Holy Sanctuary could be dismissed as the woman’s twisted joke, Ghervil remained wary.
Recalling her experience with the roasted venison, this establishment boasted even more opulent decor, making her dread to imagine the price of a single cup of coffee, and she also feared it might be laced with something.
“Do you believe the one lurking in the shadows… could be the Holy Sanctuary?”
Taking a small sip of her coffee, the woman, showing no displeasure at Ghervil’s continued caution, directly posed her question.
“You’re not even certain, yet you went to confront her?”
“That’s precisely why I went alone; I’ve been cautious enough. The only remaining source for the Blood Rose can only be the Holy Sanctuary.”
“Even if your mother is the object of your suspicion?”
“Yes.”
The woman replied without a trace of hesitation.
Ghervil glared back, the woman’s demeanor now resembling that of a serious detective.
“I don’t believe that. How do you explain the two fires?”
“Didn’t they tell you?”
“What?”
Lalviye-Komel pondered for a moment.
“It makes sense, I suppose. The first fire, anyone would consider it an accident. But on the night of the Canary Street Church fire, someone witnessed your abbess there. To prevent the matter from spreading in a detrimental way, strict gag orders were issued from above, known to very few.”
How could that be…
The implication, both overt and subtle, was that someone had been targeting the abbess from the very beginning?
If the fire failed, it was an attempt to frame her; if it succeeded, their objective would be achieved.
“Incidentally, calculating from the date recorded in the files, that fire occurred exactly eleven years after the first plague outbreak.”
“Do the others… does Ramsey think this way too?”
Ghervil admitted to feeling somewhat bewildered.
If the Holy Sanctuary harbored ill intentions, why would Bishop Sartre have saved those people eleven years ago?
He even went so far as to owe the abbess a great favor.
“There must be suspicion, but I’m unsure of Ramsey’s exact thoughts; he’s rather inscrutable.”
…Tsk.
“So bitter!”
Lost in thought, she had unconsciously raised her coffee and taken a sip.
Frowning, she only realized her mistake after adding several sugar cubes, then pushed the coffee cup aside.
“How can you guarantee your hypothesis is absolutely correct?”
“Don’t forget, I’m a scholar of the Dream Society, and I possess certain unique channels for acquiring information.”
“…”
Lalviye-Komel, setting aside some peculiar inclinations, was indeed a commendable detective.
At the very least, she willingly shared information, sparing Ghervil the indignity of shamelessly probing for details.
“Is there anything else from that conversation you’d like to know? For instance… why my relationship with my mother is like this?”
Just as Ghervil had mentally given her a high appraisal, the woman propped her chin on her hands, leaning over the table, deliberately pushing her wrists inwards to create a subtle cleavage beneath her tie.
She was wearing a formal gown, which normally wouldn’t reveal even her collarbones. Yet, at this moment, several buttons on her inner lining were deliberately undone, while the remaining ones were strained taut.
“I’m not interested in other people’s private affairs.” Ghervil scoffed, dismissing her with disdain.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen anything more provocative; that day, Dr. Callan had emerged from her bath wrapped in only a towel…
No, Ghervil, you’re a nun!
What on earth was she thinking!?
A flush crept onto her cheeks, and she hastily reined in her wandering thoughts.
“Is that so…? My two colleagues who’ve dealt with you both said you were a very curious person. It seems they were mistaken.”
“Time is almost up; let’s end our idle chatter here.”
Ghervil had no intention of prolonging the conversation; any later, and she might miss dinner.
“If you don’t uphold your promise to drive me, I’ll take a carriage back myself right now.” Ghervil stood up, preparing to leave.
“You underestimate me, my dear.”
The woman in the formal dress made a rather unctuous, inviting gesture with her hand.
“How could I let a girl I’m on a date with return home alone?”