“Impossible!”
“My father sacrificed himself in the last plague!”
Komel sprang to her feet, visibly agitated.
“Yes.”
Ghervil’s gaze held no evasion.
“But Agent Kayol-Komel, he has been resurrected within Bishop Sartre.”
The two agents stared, incredulous; no one had ever revealed that name to the young woman, let alone informed her he was from the Epidemic Prevention Bureau.
“Are you certain you haven’t mistaken him for someone else? His voice, his appearance, his habits—are you sure it’s him?”
Ramsey, maintaining a calmer demeanor, sought to find a flaw in her statement.
Information regarding agents was classified within the Bureau, making external investigation nearly impossible.
Even ordinary citizens who survived the plague had their memories altered accordingly.
Ghervil shook her head at Ramsey.
“He still bears the Bishop’s face, so I haven’t observed the characteristics you speak of, but I heard him tell Agent Komel’s mother, ‘I will protect our daughter.’”
“But a mere sentence…”
Helm hesitated, voicing his doubt; he found it hard to believe, given the myriad uncertainties and potential for artificial interference and fabrication within dreams.
“I have seen the past more than once, including the scene of Agent Kayol-Komel’s heroic sacrifice, falling into the ravine with the rats.”
Ghervil continued to speak calmly.
“Undeniably, your father was a truly great man.”
“Yet, he might no longer be the man he once was.”
“This is what I wish to tell you; whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you.”
An profound silence enveloped the room.
Callan’s mood grew heavy, her gaze fixed on the young woman’s profile, revealing another layer of concern.
This newly recruited assistant, the last nun of the mysterious Solis Abbey.
She was considerably weaker than her peers, with symptoms threatening to flare up at the slightest provocation.
How had she emerged unscathed from the fire, and why was she the sole survivor of Solis Abbey?
How many other secrets did she truly conceal?
“We must prepare for the worst; the plague has already spread through dreams to everyone in this city who has fallen asleep.”
Ramsey maintained the composure befitting a captain as he scanned the group.
“Do you know what you’re saying?!”
Helm nearly lunged to grasp his captain’s collar.
Meeting his captain’s steady gaze, his outstretched hand dropped from mid-air to slap against his own thigh.
“Damn it!”
“If the plague truly spreads this way, I dread to imagine what absurdities might unfold… I’ll send people to wake everyone, house by house, right now!”
“It’s already too late; not only would waking everyone increase our burden, but doing so would most likely alert the enemy.”
Ramsey displayed the steady resolve expected of a captain.
“Therefore, this situation is beyond our handling. Helm, take your people to the underground hospital first to ascertain the situation, and try to contact headquarters again. Regardless of the outcome, be back within twenty minutes.”
“Komel, you stay here. We are going to make a final attempt.”
After issuing his orders to each team member, and once Helm had departed in a furious hurry, Ramsey’s gaze flickered to the woman beside him before settling on the young woman.
“I hope you understand; this is our last hope.”
“I advise you to abandon this notion.”
Callan stood up, positioning herself between the two agents and the young woman.
“I know what you intend to do, to pursue a hope that is almost impossible. Who among you can guarantee it won’t trigger her symptoms once more?”
From the moment the discussion began, Komel had kept her head bowed in silence, but upon hearing Callan’s words, she slowly looked up.
“We cannot guarantee it, but how can she guarantee that what she says is true? I know of at least ten different ways to interfere with dreams alone!”
Ghervil paused, slightly stunned.
Indeed, verbal descriptions alone were hardly trustworthy.
Taking a step back, one might consider this.
Such a revelation would be unbearable for anyone: to have one’s parents, once revered as heroic sacrifices and esteemed doctors, now implicated as the instigators of disaster.
That she hadn’t reacted excessively on the spot already spoke volumes about her professional composure as an agent.
Perhaps Komel harbored indifference towards her mother, given the existing conflict between them.
However, her father must have held a very high place in her heart.
This was Ghervil’s assessment.
“Tell me, what do you intend to do?”
Disregarding the woman’s obstruction, the young woman stepped around her to stand before the two agents.
“You…”
“Never mind. We’ll see who takes care of you when your symptoms flare up.”
Infuriated, Callan sank back into her seat; it wasn’t that she failed to grasp the gravity of the situation, but rather that she sought to assert her stance and prevent them from undertaking something ill-advised.
The secrets of Solis Abbey had always been among The Order’s most highly classified, known only to two authorized individuals.
Seeing the doctor compromise, Ramsey no longer concealed his intentions.
“We need to restore your memories and find the method Abbess Anthea once used to eradicate the plague.”
“How will you restore them?” Though she knew it was likely impossible, she still ventured to ask.
“My eyes can manifest certain crucial memories of yours as dreams, allowing someone to enter and search them, provided you place your complete trust in me and abandon all caution; otherwise, the chance of failure is significant,” Komel explained to her.
It was a promising approach.
If successful, they could recreate the miracle performed by the former abbess.
Provided, of course, that she possessed such memories.
Regrettably, she did not.
Only a far more astounding story, one from another world.
“Perhaps it doesn’t need to be so complicated… Every Sunday evening at eight, in the cellar of room 101.”
After a moment of contemplation, she chose to be candid.
“You can find the abbess there.”
Another stretch of silence followed.
Ghervil had expected Callan, the former student of the abbess, to react most vehemently.
Yet, there was nothing.
An profound silence enveloped the room, so deep that no one even noticed the black-robed doctor still seated in the back.
Bang—
Bang—
“Damn these beasts!”
Precisely at that moment, several gunshots echoed from outside, punctuated by curses.
Two figures immediately burst through the door.
Wanting to follow them out to investigate, Ghervil noticed someone still behind her.
Instinctively, she assumed the woman remained to protect her.
“I don’t need protection…”
“Ah!”
The world spun violently around her.
A tremendous force slammed into her shoulders, sending her sprawling to the ground from the sheer inertia.
Everything happened too swiftly, leaving no time for reaction.
“Why didn’t you tell me…?”
A chilling voice reached her ears.
“What…?”
So startled was she that she forgot to cry out, even as pain flared across her back, the back of her head, and both shoulders.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was still alive…?”
The pressure on her shoulders intensified, and Callan’s entire body slowly pressed down.
At that moment, Ghervil also noticed an indescribable emotion in the woman’s eyes, akin to fury, yet even more like bewilderment.
The Crimson Lotus mark at the corner of her right eye deepened in color, resembling a flickering flame that subtly threatened to ignite and spread.
“I didn’t intend to conceal it…”
Unable to formulate a coherent response, she focused solely on quickly appeasing the woman.
Bang—
Bang—
“Ah—”
Whoosh—
More gunshots echoed, followed by human screams and strange, unidentifiable noises.
The flickering flame at her right eye’s corner subsided, and the brilliance returned to her pupils.
“I’m so sorry…”
She mumbled a vague apology.
Rising slowly, she walked out the door and closed it behind her.
Before long, the commotion outside quieted.