The persistent gloomy weather finally broke, giving way to clear skies.
A welcome change, indeed.
Fortunately, the mist above the city had not returned.
Before winter’s onset, the residents of Mistfall City and its surrounding areas would no longer need to fret over the oppressive mist and the prolonged nights.
The fruits and vegetables Mrs. Keith had left were sufficient for Ghervil to subsist on for three to four days, which meant she remained ensconced indoors until Thursday.
As for why she was alone, a certain unscrupulous doctor, notorious for withholding wages, had returned to the capital on Monday to report to her superiors, for a period ranging from a week to a month.
On Tuesday morning, detectives and police officers paid her a visit.
They brought a few gifts and inquired about her well-being, then, in a perfunctory manner, asked a few simple questions regarding the incident and her dreams, before offering their apologies.
Her narcolepsy had already been reported to the higher authorities.
Having slept for an entire month, it was impossible to conceal.
As long as the Queen and the Pope issued no directives specifically targeting her, she would remain a free individual.
A relative freedom, certainly.
Venturing to other cities would still require her to register with the local police department, the Epidemic Prevention Bureau, and The Order.
On Tuesday afternoon, she took the opportunity to peruse the books in her home study.
She gleaned several unexpected insights.
Among the books, one titled ‘1936,’ left by the dean, offered a detailed explanation of the mist phenomenon.
It typically occurred from early July to mid-September, and from late December to February of the following year.
The winter mist, while shorter in duration, was considerably denser.
On rare occasions, the mist’s period would either shorten or lengthen.
As of 1950, when the book was completed, the cause of the mist’s formation remained unknown.
Each occurrence of the mist enveloped the vast majority of nations, its density varying by region.
Thanks to the Goddess’s blessing, Elefant’s mist remained within a controllable range, never reaching catastrophic levels that could doom a nation.
Within a mere two decades, two neighboring small countries had already been consigned to history due to the mist.
Sea mists, however, followed no fixed schedule; they could persist year-round in distant waters, their duration far exceeding two decades.
A popular theory, therefore, suggested that the mist originated from the ocean.
Other books contained geographical observations and accounts of local customs and traditions from various regions.
Of particular note were records of special cases handled by the abbey, generally only listing the start and end dates, casualties, and so forth, without recounting the detailed proceedings.
This was understandable; as House 101 had been uninhabited for most of its existence, should a thief ever call and steal the books, their contents could cause considerable trouble if disseminated.
Bearing this apprehension in mind, the arduous days began from Tuesday past midnight… or rather, her premonitions were realized.
That someone plagued by narcolepsy could be roused in the dead of night spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation.
Every evening or during her afternoon naps, strange noises would emanate from the house: cups clattering to the floor, faucets mysteriously turning on and off.
Fruits and vegetables vanished from the kitchen.
Leftovers were pilfered, though this only occurred once.
She had initially suspected a burglar.
On Wednesday night, armed with a fruit knife, she spent hours crouching in a kitchen cabinet, waiting, until sheer exhaustion claimed her, and she fell asleep.
The next morning, she woke to find herself asleep on the floor, the knife returned to its proper place, and a blanket draped over her.
Two red apples and a strip of beef jerky, which she had placed in a basket earlier, had vanished.
She was utterly infuriated; this was a blatant act of provocation.
She summoned assistance from the police station.
Upon hearing that Sister Ghervil’s home had been burglarized, with the thief only consuming raw produce and spurning cooked meals, a group of burly men vowed, their voices hoarse, to flay the rascal alive and make them kneel before the sister, confessing their sins while eating dirt.
They believed such a pilferer was unworthy of Sister Ghervil’s cooking.
Consequently, on Thursday morning, over twenty individuals scoured her home, inside and out, searching for clues and traces.
After a busy morning, they found absolutely nothing of consequence, though they did manage a thorough cleaning.
A few strands of hair swept up suggested a small wild animal.
Perhaps a white-tailed squirrel or a wild cat.
She, however, was not convinced; the fact that it would cover her with a blanket, put away a knife, and engage in such mocking provocation indicated a certain level of intelligence, far beyond that of a mere wild animal.
Before leaving, Clovie, still uneasy, discreetly slipped her a Browning pistol and instructed her on its use.
It was loaded with blanks, sufficient for scaring off humans or animals.
****
Once these unreliable individuals had departed, Ghervil made a decision that defied her usual routine: to sleep early.
How early, precisely?
She would sleep from two in the afternoon until one in the morning.
She refused to believe she couldn’t catch the pilferer with this strategy.
Having made her preparations, she brought all the edible items—precious few remained—into her bedroom, locked the door, pretended to read, but in reality, changed into her nightclothes and lay down.
Placing the pistol beneath her pillow, and holding a small sprig of Monroe Grass (TL Note: A plant believed to be one of the raw materials for ‘Nightmare Revelation,’ a powerful hallucinogenic or dream-inducing substance.)—one of the raw materials for Nightmare Revelation—in her mouth, she swiftly drifted into slumber.
Around half past one, she gradually regained consciousness.
She lay motionless in bed for half an hour, the faint rustling sounds from downstairs sharpening her senses.
The activity on the first floor ceased after about twenty minutes.
Before long, her bedroom window was nudged open, creating a gap of about three centimeters.
By the moonlight, she could faintly discern a plump, spherical object, roughly the size of two adult fists, slowly squeezing its way inside.
Once it stood upright on the table, its silhouette against the moonlight became clearer.
Its body was somewhat oval-shaped, its head perfectly round, and its two large ears, too, were circular.
It possessed whiskers and a tail, the latter profusely furred like a fox’s, its white coloration barely discernible.
A remarkably clever creature.
It first hopped from the table, then stood motionless beside her bed for approximately ten minutes.
Once assured the person in bed was sound asleep, it began its work.
It scurried under the bed and dragged out a wooden box.
Inside lay the prepared food.
Ghervil’s hand stealthily reached under her pillow for the pistol.
She intended to surprise the creature face-to-face when it emerged.
Unexpectedly, the moment she withdrew the gun, the sounds from beneath the bed ceased.
Exercising caution, she returned her right hand to its original position, resting it flat beside her thigh.
Five seconds later, the creature crept out from under the bed.
It padded to the foot of the bed, then climbed onto it, standing beside her head to observe.
‘Good heavens,’ she thought, utterly speechless internally.
The creature’s hearing was simply beyond human comparison.
It could even resist the allure of food almost within its grasp.
‘If it were dangerous, this would be problematic,’ she mused. ‘I should have brought a knife.’
After five motionless minutes, she feigned sleep, turning onto her side to face the wall, slightly deepening her breaths.
The creature wagged its tail, its apprehension apparently eased, and it cautiously burrowed back under the bed to drag the box.
It pulled the box to a spot a safe distance from the bed, by the table near the window.
Using its forelimbs, it opened the box, its plump body hopping inside, then deftly emerged with an ear of corn, leaping onto the table.
This location, right by the window, offered the perfect escape route.
At the slightest rustle or hint of danger, it could retreat the way it came.
This complicated matters immensely.
Ghervil had not anticipated such a high degree of intelligence from the creature.
Given its keen sense of smell, she hadn’t even considered poisoning the food.
Capturing it seemed virtually impossible.
Frightening it away with a gunshot was the better option; if it returned later, she could enlist a professional pest control team.
Based on its feeding movements, it was almost certainly a large rodent.
Resolved, she acted.
“Don’t move!”
Bang—
A shot rang out instantly; Ghervil had barely drawn the pistol before pulling the trigger without aiming.
Her hand throbbed, slightly numb.
Just as she prepared to reholster the weapon, something unexpected occurred.
The creature did not flee; it stood utterly still on the table, its whiskers visibly trembling.
A corner of her mouth lifted. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she approached step by step, pistol raised.
“I know you understand me,” she declared. “If you don’t want to die, put your hands over your head and lie on the table. I can’t guarantee this gun won’t go off accidentally.”
She reached the window, pressed the gun against the large, white-furred rodent’s backside, and then she froze in stunned disbelief.
She heard a trembling, whimpering human voice respond,
“W-whoa… please don’t kill me, I haven’t lived enough… I’ll never do it again, Sister Konehl…”