Unable to withstand the relentless barrage of questions, Ghervil recounted every minute detail of her encounter in the front carriage.
Upon learning that Ghervil had suffered no serious harm and that the incident was merely a fright, Govet-Ghervil felt a significant burden lift from her.
“What are your thoughts on Knight Esli?”
That evening, standing before the washbasin, Ghervil used her right hand to rinse her own mouth, while her left held a separate toothbrush, gently brushing Govet-Ghervil’s teeth. Spitting out a mouthful of water, she finally asked,
“It’s difficult to articulate,” Govet-Ghervil replied. “She’s definitely withholding some information from us, yet what she has revealed rings true.”
“Even her bad luck?”
“Certain curses genuinely manifest in such ways.”
“What kind of curse?”
“Many curses can inflict misfortune, making them difficult to identify at present.”
Once their teeth were clean, Govet-Ghervil remained perfectly still, awaiting Ghervil to gently wipe her face with a soft towel.
The VIP compartments on the Blue Rose did not feature shower rooms, as such amenities were deemed an extravagant waste of water.
It was not a luxury liner, and thus, installing such extravagant facilities was considered unnecessary.
Having finished their ablutions and wiped both her own face and that of the little mouse, Ghervil climbed into bed to sleep.
Govet-Ghervil jumped onto the bed, then scaled her chest, standing upright to peer down at her.
“This individual must possess extraordinary luck. To have survived this long while bearing a curse, it actually reveals something significant.”
“In any case,” she continued, “I forbid you from having excessive contact with this person. The misfortune curse is far too perilous, and you are not yet capable of withstanding its effects.”
She adopted an air that clearly stated she wouldn’t budge until Ghervil agreed.
“At this moment, you truly resemble an elder sister,” Ghervil chuckled.
“I am not jesting with you,” Govet-Ghervil asserted, her tone firm.
“Alright, I’ll be mindful of the boundaries,” Ghervil conceded.
A faint smile played on Ghervil’s lips as she rolled over, pulling the soft furball into her embrace like a bolster, and peacefully closed her eyes.
“Once I’m asleep, dear sister, I’ll trouble you to keep watch.”
“Hmph, only because you deigned to call me sister,” Govet-Ghervil huffed in return.
The hug had been quite tight, and by the time Govet-Ghervil finally managed to squirm free, she discovered her sister already deeply entrenched in slumber.
****
After a peaceful night’s rest, Ghervil awoke early the next morning, feeling utterly refreshed and invigorated.
Pulling back the curtains, she observed the sun’s position outside the window, judging it to be around seven or eight in the morning.
The distant scenery had transformed, no longer vast rivers and fields of sunflowers, but neat, sprawling clusters of wooden houses.
Several small towns appeared to be woven together.
Once they traversed these towns, they would likely arrive in Florence City by early afternoon.
“Wake up, big sister Govet-Ghervil…”
She gently poked the furball’s cheek, where it lay sleeping belly-up beside her, then leaned in close to whisper into its ear.
Its whiskers twitched faintly, and Govet-Ghervil merely rolled over, resuming her deep slumber.
It appeared she truly had kept vigil throughout the night.
Ordinarily, the slightest stir would rouse her, though more often than not, she would be the first to awaken, padding downstairs for a furtive snack before returning to her slumber, having nothing better to occupy her time.
This state of affairs was quite typical.
Back home, Ghervil habitually rose between nine and ten o’clock, a considerably later hour than most.
After a quick wash, she sought out a steward and requested two breakfasts.
She had initially intended to deliver one portion to the lady knight, but upon knocking and opening the door, she found Esli already engrossed in a book while enjoying her own breakfast.
To prevent a repeat oversight, Esli had proactively requested a meal for herself.
Witnessing Ghervil’s thoughtfulness, Esli initially seemed a little embarrassed, accepting only an apple. However, she quickly shifted her demeanor, expressed her gratitude, and extended a gracious invitation for Ghervil to enter.
Politely declining the kind offer, Ghervil exchanged a few courteous words before carrying the two breakfasts back to compartment number 11.
Having lost most of her sense of taste, Ghervil’s fervent attachment to gourmet food had long since faded; anything that could sate her hunger and provide essential daily energy sufficed.
Before she could even begin, the white furball, having caught the scent, scampered from the bed to the dining table.
The swiftness with which it sprang to life was truly enviable.
“Did anything happen last night?”
“Nothing occurred on the train itself; the night passed peacefully.”
Its large tail wagged with anticipation, eagerly awaiting Ghervil to transfer the food from the serving platter to the table.
“You can even discern events happening outside the train?”
Ghervil sensed the unspoken implication in its statement.
“It expended a considerable amount of my energy,” Govet-Ghervil stated nonchalantly.
“The man who sought to assassinate you died last night.”
“You… did that?!”
Ghervil was momentarily speechless, her mouth agape.
Interpreting the two sentences in conjunction, that was the only logical conclusion.
“What are you imagining?”
Picking up a freshly peeled boiled egg, Govet-Ghervil bit off a quarter in a single mouthful, looking at Ghervil with surprise.
“I meant that it took a considerable amount of my power to ascertain this outcome. His uncle truly does work for the Epidemic Prevention Bureau, but the man didn’t survive long enough for his uncle to post bail. He died around midnight, while still at the police station.”
Still, this explanation failed to assuage the young girl’s doubts, prompting Govet-Ghervil to begin deliberately playing dumb, attempting to muddle through the conversation.
“His uncle is an old, somewhat seasoned detective,” Govet-Ghervil rambled, “with a scar etched across his face and a fierce gaze. Yet, his composed demeanor upon learning of his nephew’s death reveals a steady character, entirely unlike the intimidating impression his appearance conveys…”
Under Ghervil’s intense gaze, the breakfast items on the table were slowly being returned, one by one, to the serving platter.
“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you!” Govet-Ghervil finally relented. “But first, let me sate my hunger. Engaging in such activities within a dream is incredibly exhausting; I need a substantial replenishment of energy to recover my state.”
Ultimately, it proved no match for the allure and implicit threat of withheld food.
Ten minutes later, both portions of breakfast had been thoroughly consumed by Govet-Ghervil, while Ghervil herself had only managed a couple of slices of fried bacon and some roasted mushrooms.
Standing on the table, it met the girl’s scrutinizing gaze.
“I can dream of events unfolding in reality, even pinpointing specific individuals.”
“So, you were actually asleep the entire night, then.”
“You can’t phrase it quite like that,” Govet-Ghervil countered, a hint of defiance in her tone.
“Such dreaming is incredibly taxing. As a Ghervil yourself, I trust you understand my meaning.”
Indeed, after weaving that particular dream, Ghervil had slept for over a month before fully recuperating.
Nodding slowly, Ghervil conceded the truth of its words.
“How did he die, then?”
“He was shot,” Govet-Ghervil replied. “One could even call it an accident.”
As the conversation returned to its serious core, Govet-Ghervil’s tone grew solemn.
“During his interrogation,” she explained, “he became agitated and argued with the officers. Despite being handcuffed, he wrestled with three of them, during which a pistol fell to the ground. In the ensuing struggle, the weapon discharged, striking him directly in the heart.”
“But this is merely the superficial cause. I suspect the true reason he died…”
Govet-Ghervil’s gaze flickered to the left, towards the bookshelf, behind which lay compartment number 12.
“…might stem from the misfortune curse upon the lady knight.”
Many people had been present at the scene; if it affected those around her, he couldn’t have been the only one.
Ghervil meticulously recalled the details of that moment.
The person who had spent the most time beside the lady knight should have been herself, conversing in this compartment for half the night.
As for any unfortunate events she had encountered…
There had only been the man’s attack.
She hadn’t even sustained a simple scratch, which hardly proved anything.
Moreover, if it were truly that dangerous, The Order would never have allowed the lady knight to undertake a mission in a crowded area without any restrictions.
Recalling from other conversations, such as their discussion…
She remembered the reason the lady knight was dispatched for this protection mission.
“Describe the detailed process of the incident again.”
Govet-Ghervil had no concrete evidence either and sought clues.
“No need,” Ghervil said, fixing her eyes on the furball. “If your deduction is correct, I likely know the man’s cause of death.”
“Do you recall Esli’s reason for being assigned here? Her illness is suited for dealing with people.”
“The unlucky brat did say that,” Govet-Ghervil remarked, arbitrarily assigning her a nickname.
“Add one more condition: the curse on her is also suited for dealing with people. That explains everything.”
“You mean she used her curse to kill him?!”
Govet-Ghervil’s tail shot upright in surprise.
“Half-right. At that moment, he wasn’t just trying to kill me.”
“But you *and* the unlucky brat! I should have realized that sooner!” Govet-Ghervil exclaimed, a sudden understanding dawning upon her.
“Precisely,” Ghervil slowly nodded. “So, his true cause of death was harboring lethal malice towards Esli.”