The notion of inducing a dream state in everyone bore a striking resemblance to the Abbey’s bells, which were known to enhance dream-like effects.
Yet, a crucial distinction lay between them: one was voluntary, the other, coercive.
When one actively entered a dream, the contents remained entirely random and uncontrollable; from an experiential standpoint, it was indistinguishable from ordinary sleep. Those who glimpsed divine miracles constituted a negligible fraction, akin to the select few at the apex of a pyramid.
However, the visions experienced through ritualistic dreaming were dictated by the caster, making it entirely plausible for an entire city to share a single, collective dream.
Ramsey ventured a bold speculation.
Perhaps the ritual served to more effectively infuse the goddess’s dream with the plague’s corruption. This, he reasoned, would account for why, over countless long nights spanning many years, Bishop Sartre remained the sole individual to be reinfected, a fact made all the more striking considering his annual efforts to aid patients with his own spiritual power.
Consequently, the team would need to divide into two distinct groups.
The ultimate decision-makers were three: Callan, Ramsey, and Helm.
It was deemed safer for Komel, possessing dream-related abilities, to remain behind and guard the cemetery.
Ghervil, for her part, was tasked with proceeding to 101 Lily of the Valley Street in search of the Dean.
“I’ll stay behind.”
Ramsey was the first to declare his decision.
“I possess more knowledge regarding ritual-related matters, but I must warn you: the mastermind’s primary target might still be the Abbey. Thus, ‘it’ – having overheard our conversation – likely shares the same destination as you, Sister Ghervil. And yes, you are also a target.”
Helm nodded in silent assent, largely concurring with his captain’s assessment. Agent Komel’s current state made it unsettling to entrust her with leading a group to guard the cemetery alone; someone reliable would need to stay alongside her.
The entity afflicting the Bishop was, in all likelihood, merely a white rat, requiring no formidable dream powers to subdue. With the Bishop’s own dream energies nearly depleted, the combined threat posed by the two would not prove overly troublesome.
This, of course, assumed the assistance of a chief doctor…
He cast a furtive glance at the black-robed doctor, who had entered moments ago and now stood by the window, observing the outside world, conspicuously absent from their discussion. Then, turning to the nun, he gave a subtle wink, only for her gaze to flit away, clearly unwilling to offer any explanation.
‘What exactly are these two conspiring about?’
“Ah… I suppose I’ll accompany you back. After all, we’ve already collaborated once.”
Helm found his companion rather inept. Wasn’t her usually lively tongue quite capable of speaking? Why did she seem to lose all spirit at such a crucial juncture?
‘What recourse did I have? No one had ever taught me how to pacify an angered soul.’
Indeed, Ghervil was convinced that the current tension stemmed from Callan’s lingering resentment over her concealment of the Dean’s continued existence.
“I’m sorry…”
Impelled by a face whose features seemed to dance with emotion, and another’s steady, unwavering gaze, she moved purposefully to stand behind the woman.
“Hm??”
The woman, seemingly caught off guard, appeared momentarily flustered upon seeing the young girl behind her, her hand slipping into her pocket as if searching for a place of refuge that didn’t exist.
“I’ll give you the explanation you desire…”
“Oh, you don’t need to explain, nor apologize.”
Her eyes roamed over the young girl.
“Then why…?”
“I should be the one to apologize, but I’m not good at it.”
Callan offered the girl a wry, helpless smile.
“So, this matter is simply put behind us.”
“Is that truly alright?”
Ghervil’s heart stirred with unease, a thought blossoming that perhaps Callan’s initial arrival and residence on Lily of the Valley Street had been solely for the Dean’s sake.
“It’s nothing of great consequence. I shall uncover the answers to certain matters myself. Our imperative now is to locate her and compel her to rectify the tangled mess she abandoned all those years ago.”
“Should we drive, our speed might not be any less than that of the rats. There is still time.”
Helm called out a reminder from the rear.
With these considerations, the composition of the two teams was finalized.
The Epidemic Prevention Bureau contributed seven vehicles, supplemented by the one Callan drove, transporting close to thirty-five individuals towards Lily of the Valley Street, while more than fifty remained to guard the Abbey.
As for the Abbey’s original priests, nuns, and clergy, they had already been guided into a dream state; being non-combatants, their wakefulness would only have proven an additional burden.
Helm spearheaded the agent team, leading the vanguard, while Ghervil occupied Callan’s passenger seat, situated centrally within the convoy.
Beneath the full moon hanging high above, seven vehicles hastened through the swirling mist.
As visibility dwindled to less than fifteen meters, each vehicle was forced to cling precariously to the faint glow of the taillights preceding it.
At this late hour, the city streets lay largely deserted, save for the occasional patrol—groups of five, armed with flashlights or torches—standing vigilant watch.
Their journey progressed unimpeded.
प्रकारGazing upwards through the hazy shroud, Ghervil observed that the faint, ethereal white glow above—the moon’s position—had scarcely moved.
This suggested that the current long night would stretch considerably, potentially lasting up to three days, though areas less enveloped by mist might experience a briefer respite.
“You may try to rest for a while. The drive from the Abbey to our destination typically takes about an hour, but with the mist, that duration will only lengthen.” Callan’s hands gripped the steering wheel, her gaze unwavering on the road ahead.
“I already slept five or six hours during the day; it’s hard for me to fall asleep again now.”
Despite her words, Ghervil’s mind was preoccupied.
Her thoughts drifted to the peculiar mark at the corner of the woman’s right eye.
She had distinctly seen that mark undergo a strange transformation when she had been shoved.
With no interior lights illuminated, the car remained dim, making it difficult to discern anything clearly. She could only fix her gaze on the general area.
“Is there something on my face?”
“Yes, quite obviously.”
Yielding to a subtle, nagging worry, she fabricated a response.
Even if there had been light, it would have been difficult to make out, as a golden strand of hair fell across it.
Ordinarily, it might have gone unnoticed, were it not for the striking allure of her face.
“I anticipate your question. Considering I am privy to a good many of your own secrets, I suppose I shall, with some reluctance, enlighten you.”
Releasing one hand from the steering wheel, Callan tucked the strand of golden hair behind her ear.
‘Quite a few secrets about me?’
Not rushing to answer, Ghervil looked over with a puzzled expression.
She couldn’t recall revealing any ‘beyond the scope’ secrets.
“For instance, the color and size of the underwear you’re wearing beneath your nun’s habit right now.”
“…”
‘I felt an unchaste gaze.’
‘This one still has the mind to joke; there truly are no issues then.’
“Crimson Lotus, have you heard of it?”
Before Ghervil could flare up, Callan adopted a serious demeanor.
“No,” the girl shook her head.
“It’s a peculiar illness that is not contagious.”
“Those afflicted with this disease can use their blood as a weapon. If I wished, a single drop could effortlessly fell an adult male lion.”
“Is your blood highly poisonous?”
She thought of snake venom.
“Not exactly. I can manipulate my own blood, causing it to resonate within a living being, and then ‘bang,’ it explodes.”
As she spoke, she released the steering wheel with both hands, making an expansive gesture towards the girl’s frame, mimicking an explosion.
“Just like the day I saved you, the exploding, spraying blood resembles crimson lotus blossoms, hence the name ‘Crimson Lotus’.”
They were not yet out of the city, and the road remained smooth, allowing the car to continue steadily despite her sudden gesture. Ghervil tacitly allowed her small joke.
“Those who contract this illness rarely live to adulthood, for one day they will inevitably fail to suppress the blood within their bodies. The ultimate outcome is being blown apart by their own blood, reduced to a puddle of gore or a few scattered pieces of a human puzzle.”
Ghervil paused, slightly stunned. Callan was certainly an adult, likely in her early twenties, and appeared perfectly capable of combat, seemingly without major issues.
“May the Goddess bless you, and keep you until adulthood.”
Perhaps the atmosphere had relaxed, for she too made a small jest, clasping her hands over the crucifix at her chest in a gesture of prayer.
“What foolishness are you spouting?” Callan looked over strangely.
“If you were found by your Dean less than a year after your birth, then I am two years your elder.”
“May you be blessed to endure until your prime.”
“To dare tease your employer like that,” Callan’s lips curved, “you’ve got some nerve.”
“When have I ever been timid?”
The young girl winked at her, a playful act of revenge for earlier.
Perhaps unable to see clearly, the woman continued speaking to herself.
“The fact that I’ve survived intact until now largely depends on your Dean. She taught me a method, meditation – though I find it more akin to prayer – which can even be performed in dreams.”
“Through long-term, repetitive training, it became a conditioned reflex; I could suppress the blood’s agitation simply by sleeping.”
“But now…”
Her words were cut short mid-sentence as the taillights of the car ahead flared. She pressed the brake, bringing their vehicle to a slow halt.
“Knock, knock, knock.”
Soon after, a figure jogged out of the mist and lightly tapped on the window.
As the window rolled down, the faint, indistinct sound of flowing water became audible.
Standing outside the car was Helm.
“There’s a problem up ahead. To be safe, we’d like you to get out and take a look before we decide what to do next.”