A summer night in Mistfall City offered a welcome coolness far exceeding the day’s warmth.
The gentle jolting of their journey lulled her into drowsiness.
She recalled a time long past, when her illness was in its nascent, less severe stages; her parents would take turns caring for her, carrying her to a nearby hospital, letting her bask in the sun on grassy lawns, and even bearing her to feel the ocean breeze at night.
A fleeting, innocent, and somewhat selfish thought had crossed her young mind then: if her condition persisted, might she forever enjoy such tender care?
“Sleep if you wish,” a soft voice murmured beside her, “I know you’re still awake. There’s no rush to rouse until you’re truly needed.”
The gentle timbre in her ear seemed to echo that distant memory.
‘When I’m needed?’
She mused inwardly.
‘Hopefully, that won’t be too long from now.’
“Dr. Callan… I’ve always wondered, what is the Hospital Department’s stance on Solis Abbey?”
Upon hearing soft, steady breathing, confirming the young girl had indeed fallen asleep, Helm inquired cautiously.
Before Ramsey’s arrival in this city, Solis Abbey had, to varying degrees, participated in, and often even spearheaded, Mistfall City’s long night vigils (TL Note: Refers to patrols and defense against supernatural threats during the night).
As a native son, having risen through the ranks to become the head of Mistfall City’s Epidemic Prevention Bureau through sheer diligence, Helm understood one crucial point: if the abbess’s figure appeared during a vigil, it likely signaled significant trouble brewing in the long night.
Yet, conversely.
Their casualties would be minimized, often even reduced to zero.
A feat rarely achieved even in much larger cities.
He knew deep down that a powerful abbey relocating to such a remote city was an utter waste of its capabilities.
He had conducted private investigations.
The Abbey’s move to Mistfall City had been a unanimous decision by The Order’s high command, with the Hospital Department holding considerable sway in the matter.
“I’m not certain myself,” Dr. Callan replied, glancing at him.
‘Uncertain, or unwilling to say? Aren’t you a high-ranking official in the Hospital Department?’
Helm, understanding implicitly, did not press the matter further.
It was merely a passing thought he had, and a rare opportunity to ask.
After a silent three seconds, Dr. Callan turned her head, her eyes reflecting a beautiful, slumbering face.
“Solis Abbey had already settled in this city before I was even born. The rumors I’ve heard since becoming a doctor suggest… their abbess, it is said, once offended Her Majesty when she was still a princess.”
The current queen, Vitz V, had ascended to the throne just over six years prior.
The implication was clear: he could not probe further.
The Order’s stance on Solis Abbey was entangled with the royal family.
****
The scene shifted to the intersection of Lily of the Valley Street, where the trio encountered a patrol squad of five agents.
They had just finished their rounds and were preparing for the next shift to take over.
“Anything unusual in the vicinity?”
Helm inquired, as was his custom.
“No one’s been scrambling about the streets,” the squad leader reported, striving to maintain his professional demeanor despite the impending shift change. “We already caught two little rascals trying to sneak out and sent them back home.”
The agents guarding the city’s periphery lacked the experience of those from the Sanctuary (TL Note: A religious organization or holy order, often associated with spiritual and martial training). Some were auxiliary personnel, and during staff shortages, promising police officers would be brought in, usually led by one or two seasoned veterans.
“What about this street?”
Helm gestured with his eyes toward the dense, fog-shrouded street before them.
“Surely you know, sir, the residents of Lily of the Valley Street… it’s completely deserted here every summer and winter.”
Meaning, they hadn’t bothered to check.
“Alright then, go get some well-deserved rest.”
“Yes, boss!”
“Don’t you find that strange?”
After the agents had walked away and vanished into the fog, Dr. Callan remarked from beside him.
“They didn’t raise their weapons the moment they saw us,” Helm stated, his expression grave.
No matter how relaxed one might be, when personal safety was at stake, no one would disregard it.
These five agents, upon seeing figures emerge from the night’s fog without torches, had shown no immediate caution; instead, they had recognized them naturally and approached to report.
“Let’s hope it’s just a misperception.”
Helm shook his head as he continued walking forward.
“We’ve already lost too many people…”
Dr. Callan, still carrying the young girl, stood silently, watching the man’s retreating back.
‘As one of the agents’ leaders, indecisiveness at a time like this would be detrimental.’
****
Following a wide road behind the clock tower, flanked by blooming white lilies, they walked for five minutes.
Passing through a neatly planned expanse of green firs, the road began to widen, eventually revealing rows upon rows of marble gravestones, numbering over a thousand, in an open clearing ahead.
Each gravestone remained largely intact; their varying colors and degrees of weathering indicated the cemetery’s age, ranging from a few years to several decades.
The Sanctuary arranged for weekly cleaning and maintenance, ensuring no severe damage occurred.
Most interred here were Sanctuary clergy, significant benefactors, and those who had made immense contributions to Mistfall City.
This included former bishops, titled nobility, and agents who had sacrificed their lives combating the plague.
Another ten minutes’ walk brought them to the cemetery’s core.
There, on a gravestone indistinguishable from its neighbors, a name was carved in Fintish: Kayol-Komel.
No biography, no photograph, just a solitary name.
“We received word from the ‘Messenger’ that Helm’s squad encountered a rat swarm and was almost completely annihilated.”
Footsteps approached, and the purple-haired woman, who had been kneeling silently before the gravestone, heard a man’s voice.
“How could this be… the nun and Helm’s squad…”
The purple-haired woman stood, her voice filled with sudden realization.
“They are unharmed. Helm sustained minor injuries, nothing serious, thanks to Dr. Callan.” Ramsey didn’t pause; he walked past the purple-haired woman, continuing to a row of gravestones behind her.
Beneath these stones lay members of the Epidemic Prevention Bureau, comrades he had never met.
“But why, with that doctor present, would they still—”
“According to the letter, they walked into a trap, entering a river valley where Dr. Callan’s abilities were severely hampered.”
“Do you need me to…”
“No, we’ve already dispatched others.”
Ramsey cut her off, the sharp click of a bullet chambering immediately following his words.
“There’s one thing I can’t quite grasp: how did you manage to restrain a chief-level doctor?”
“Agent Komel, no, I should address you as Doctor Komel.”
Slowly, she turned her head, confronting the dark muzzle of a silver pistol without a significant change in her expression.
“You must have suspected me ever since Bishop Sartre disappeared, didn’t you?”
Grinning, she advanced slowly towards the gun’s barrel.
“You deliberately spoke those words to Helm, hoping to lower my guard and observe my intentions.”
“Answer my question.”
She continued her advance without faltering.
“The true confirmation that I wasn’t ‘myself’ came when that book went missing. I admit, the little nun’s revelation disrupted our plans, forcing us to divert our attention there. We should have waited, not rushed to take the book. If all of you, or all of us, had gone to Lily of the Valley Street, then no one would have ever found out.”
A gunshot echoed—
The bullet grazed her cheek, and a strand of purple hair fluttered to the ground.
She pressed on, grasping the gun’s muzzle with one hand and pressing it against her own forehead.
“Because of human nature.”
“A river valley, and a few slightly clever creatures, could hardly trap her. But no matter how powerful she is, she remains human. When a person has something they need to protect, their weaknesses become glaringly obvious… just as my daughter wished to protect me.”
“And so do you; you dare not fire.”
She calmly curved her lips into a smile.
“The owner of this body is still Lalviye, still the trustworthy comrade you know.”