The two of them, supporting each other, persevered until they reached the shore, where their strength finally gave out, and they collapsed onto the ground.
With no one to meet them, the team of agents had suffered heavy losses.
The group that had attempted to swim back, the ones on the opposite bank, were all dead.
The sheer number of rats was overwhelming; bullets alone could not hold them back.
On this side, Helm’s special weapon had been deployed, and the outcome was marginally better.
Helm was wounded, several patches of flesh torn from his calves and arms, his wounds oozing blood profusely.
Out of more than thirty people, only eight had survived, two of whom were incapacitated, left to await rescue where they lay.
Three ordinary agents, relatively unscathed, were collecting the bodies of their comrades, using the black body bags kept in the car’s trunk.
Severed limbs, hair, clothing, bones.
Few remains were found intact.
Those who made it ashore had been gnawed clean by the rats, while those who perished in the water had drifted further downstream with the current.
Still, they managed to find some.
Not one person wailed or lamented, perhaps accustomed to such grim scenes.
Or perhaps the body bags in their hands were simply too heavy.
“Boss, we want to stay behind, to search further downstream. There might be some lucky souls still alive.”
An agent, carefully avoiding the young woman who sat by the fire, her head bowed, leaned in to whisper their request to Helm.
“And we can look after those two while we’re at it.”
‘To stay behind and face danger again was tantamount to suicide, yet remaining near the formidable doctor, and avoiding the mistake of entering the water again, would ensure their survival.’
Helm considered these arguments, intending to persuade his subordinates as he bandaged his wounds.
‘He mused that two or three ordinary agents made little difference, and away from the ‘target,’ their chances of encountering danger would be significantly lower.’
With a decisive tug, he tightened the bandage around his wound, tied it off, and nodded subtly.
“Thank you, Boss!”
Bowing deeply to the group, the agent then headed downstream, torch in hand.
“He’s expressing his gratitude to you, thanking you for getting them ashore, thanking you for eliminating the white rats, which allowed them to survive at the last moment.”
Helm forced an awkward smile across the bonfire at the young woman, attempting to lighten the mood—the pain from bandaging his wounds made him grimace.
“Won’t they regret it? Not staying at Solis Abbey… coming all the way here with us?”
The young woman lowered her gaze, sitting sideways, her legs perfectly still.
Ghervil found herself unable to confront the reality that so many had died because of her, even if their actions had been voluntary.
Among everyone, she was the least injured, without even a scratch, yet she was precisely the weakest, the one who should have been most vulnerable.
“They won’t regret it, because you survived.”
“I still don’t understand how they could willingly… for someone who isn’t even truly a friend… I can’t even recall their names…”
The young woman’s voice trailed off, fading into silence.
“Do you still remember the term ‘Dream’s Edge’?”
Helm gazed at the bonfire before him, using a branch to stir open a space at its base. A burst of flames shot forth, embers drifting into the sky, and as they faded, a bitter smile faintly appeared on his lips.
“To guard the edge of dreams, and in the Goddess’s stead, punish the fallen.”
“During every long night, you can always see a group of fearless individuals in black trench coats patrolling and standing guard in the city streets, amidst the mist. They work in groups of three to five. If they’re lucky, they endure until the sun rises. If not, they vanish forever into the mist before their shift ends. ‘Dream’s Edge’ refers to reality itself; those who guard reality rarely have the chance to dream…”
“Few people are truly unafraid of death, but they must be fearless. If they succumb to fear… others will die…”
The young woman slowly lifted her head, her gaze falling upon a face that flickered in and out of sight in the dancing firelight.
“We also have a rule… when faced with an unconquerable, highly contagious unknown plague, we save the last bullet for ourselves, because we don’t want to harm our comrades, nor do we want them to bear the guilt of shooting us.”
“You don’t need to comfort me any longer… I have no intention of giving up, I’m just… a little sad.”
Her eyes were faintly reddened.
Ghervil reached out and gently brushed away a small, broken leaf from the face of the woman sleeping on her lap.
‘Unwilling to admit to excessive blood loss, she had fabricated the lie of being too weary and needing a lap pillow to rest.’
‘In truth, she had barely lain down before her consciousness blurred, and she drifted into a heavy, confused sleep.’
“I suppose I’m also comforting myself.”
Helm reassembled his dried pistol, loading it bullet by bullet.
“I hope I won’t have to fire the last one.”
Ghervil listened, stunned into silence.
‘Who sets themselves up for failure like that?’
“You say that as if you actually would…”
Her soft words were met with silence.
“What if… and I mean *if*, we don’t find the Abbess?”
The night wind stirred her hair, as she quietly posed the question.
“The Abbess told me to appear on Sunday, and now it’s Thursday.”
“It’s Friday. It passed midnight, so it’s already Friday,” Helm replied candidly.
“To be honest, we hold very little hope of finding your Abbess. The morgue at Solis Abbey still holds eight charred bodies awaiting burial. Through professional identification methods, they were confirmed as seven nuns, plus your Abbess. So, if we *do* find her, it will truly be a miracle.”
“Then you still… believe me?”
She was somewhat dumbfounded.
‘It wasn’t merely based on clothing and skeletal features, she realized.’
‘Given the technological advancement of this era, DNA research was only in its nascent stages, and its formal application in medicine might be decades away.’
‘Compared to her previous life’s world, people here faced far too many perils. Survival amidst plagues and mists was their paramount concern.’
‘The development of certain scientific technologies would inevitably lag.’
“Even a sliver of hope is still hope, and it’s better than doing nothing at all.”
“Besides, there are countless wonders in this world we haven’t witnessed. A small hope doesn’t mean we don’t trust you.”
‘Ultimately, it still comes down to trust, doesn’t it…’
‘She felt both touched and guilty.’
She gazed up at the sky, and spoke no more.
The tranquil, peaceful sound of the night river’s flow made it easy to forget the passage of time. Before she realized it, a stir came from her slightly numb thigh.
“How long was I asleep?”
The woman slowly opened her eyes, turned halfway, and pressed her cheek against the softness.
“Twenty-one minutes.”
Helm promptly pulled out a pocket watch.
“You seem to have recovered well… Are you not planning to get up?”
He asked, mustering his courage.
‘It was also a reminder.’
‘To remain motionless for twenty minutes while someone rested on her made him somewhat admire Ghervil.’
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a dream. I wish it had lasted a little longer.”
Dr. Callan sat up, utterly content, her face fair with a healthy flush, a picture of normal, vibrant health.
“What kind of dream?”
The young woman’s inquiry came from beside her.
“A dream that soothes the restlessness in my blood.”
“So, what was it?”
Her beautiful lips curved slightly, but she offered no answer, intending to preserve the mystery.
Standing up, she stretched her limbs, checked her equipment, and surveyed her surroundings.
Helm understood her intentions and likewise stood to perform a similar inspection.
With the Epidemic Prevention Bureau agents gone, he was no longer the squad leader; it was clear who would now decide how and when this three-person team would proceed.
Only the young woman seemed out of sync, sitting awkwardly in her spot, rubbing her legs.
Indeed, her legs had gone numb, and she couldn’t stand.
She voiced no complaints.
Had Dr. Callan remained asleep, Ghervil would have persevered.
Her hand was taken and wrapped around the neck beneath the golden hair; suddenly, her body felt light as she was lifted onto someone’s back.
“It’s not completely dry yet, so it might be a little cold. Bear with it for a moment. It’s your turn to rest for twenty minutes.”
This time, she did not refuse, leaning helplessly against a shoulder.
Closing her eyes, she listened to the night wind.