A s I slept, a certain scene played out in my mind once more, just one part of what Rafi had given me. It felt as deeply familiar as it did alien. ‘My’ body was shorter than I was used to. It felt as if every door, every window, every roof’s colossal size held divine meaning. Every sight would burn itself into ‘my’ mind and become the fabric of ‘my’ soul.

‘I’ was walking alongside someone, ‘my’ small hand wrapped in theirs. Their―her presence felt like the most massive thing of all, like it towered above the clouds, face obscured by twilight.

She was saying something, but I couldn’t really register most of it. Just watching her speak and listening to her voice was enough for ‘me’.

Suddenly, she let go of ‘my’ hand, and, with a spring in her step, wound around to face ‘me’. She got down on her knees to match ‘my’ level, running her hands through ‘my’ hair.

“A beautiful girl like you should shine brighter.”

Her smile was many times more radiant than the sun behind her.

“Once you grow up, I promise I’ll get you a beautiful dress, like the girls wear outside the village. Would you like that?”

‘I’ didn’t understand the question, but ‘I’ nodded nonetheless. Sharing a promise, a bond with her felt like a gift in its own right.

“I hope you’ll give me a smile then, Rafi. That’ll be my reward.”

The smell of the grass. The sound of the birds. The palm running through my hair. A knowing smile and a wink. A name with a familiar ring to it. And the setting Sun. That snapshot must have been her life’s front cover. And to have a sight any less glorious than that be what adorns the back―I wouldn’t allow it.

Sleeping on an unfamiliar bed, for the first time in quite a while, made me think of Vince.

Vincent Valakia. I’d slept in many unfamiliar beds thanks to him. He was a man who could never be satisfied settling down. Even in his older age, though he’d slowed down, his nomadic nature never left him.

From childhood to old age, he never once stopped running forward, searching for a fresh new destination to lay his eyes upon.

I should have felt nothing but confidence and security gazing upon that wide back, but strangely enough, I never really did. I wonder why that was… a strange sense of anxiety always filled my mind.

Even just thinking this felt like a betrayal. He had always been there for me. For decades on end, he’d never left me behind. He would have gladly given his life for me―he’d proven that on many occasions, and I wouldn’t dare doubt his conviction.

And yet―For my whole life, I’d never been able to shake a certain notion.

That, if provided with the choice between adhering to his principles, reaching for the ideals that he swore by, and remaining by my side―he would pick the former, without a second thought. He would cast aside anything, if it meant staying true to himself.

If I could just remain by his side for one more day, I’d throw away all my cheap convictions, faiths and morals. Though I knew he’d never ask this of me, I could have become a demon for him.

I was always just barely holding onto that back, grasping whatever I could, hanging on by a thread, all so I could remain there, in that place. In that picture-perfect frame, with them by my side.

Tina was different. She followed him with her head held high, made his mission her life’s own―I could never be the same. Even now, I still can’t wrap my head around it―why he was the way he was, what really drove him. What the world looked like in his eyes.

But I cherished him all the same.

Ah. I knew there was no point in praying―in praying for him to watch over me. Wherever he was right now, I was sure that his gaze, and hers too, were fixed pointedly at the beyond.

About three hours later, I was woken up by Rafi, who came in at Father Iscario’s behest. Groggily checking my pocket watch, which I’d left on the dresser next to the bed, one of the room’s few pieces of furniture, I took note of the time―ten minutes before six o’clock, just in time for the sun to lower its intensity. It wasn’t enough time to get me fully rested, but it was certainly better than nothing. If nothing else, I was thankful I could wake up to Rafi’s gentle nudging―picturing the alternative of waking up to the wrong end of that caustic sister’s spear was enough to terrify me into fully alert consciousness.

“What have you been up to while I was out, Rafi?” I asked with a smile.

“...Olga stopped by. She stuck around with me for a while.”

“I see.” Must be a friend, I figured. “Did you have fun?”

“...” She just tilted her head at me, staring blankly.

“...R-right. I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself.” I could not for the life of me get a read on that girl.

Thankfully, my clothes had also finished drying in the meantime, so I was able to shed my undesired new look. Soon after I left Rafi’s room, though, I found myself right back, sitting on her creaky bed yet again. Sapria was busying herself around the house, so our best bet for a place where we could hold a strategy meeting seemed to be here.

“We will conduct our investigations on each day starting in the late afternoon, after the Sun’s rays have lessened, continuing well into the night. We’ve gotten used to a nocturnal schedule, as I’m sure is also true of you, Vio Valakia. Miss Rafflesia, I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with it.” Rafi nodded. Despite prompting me to lead earlier, it seemed that Father Iscario had naturally slid into the role of our coordinator. I wasn’t about to complain―he was far better suited to the job. “I suggest we all stick together for now. As a local, Miss Rafflesia’s insight will be invaluable.”

No one had any objections to his propositions. Soon enough, it was time to decide the first target of our investigation, one which we were all on the same page about:

“First of all, we should talk to the owner of the storehouse.”

No one ought to know better about who had access to the place than the owner himself. However, we seemed to have hit a roadblock right off the bat.

“The owner… Well, Olga’s dad built it.” Rafi said. “But if you’re looking for him, I’m sorry, but he’s out of town.” Her curt statement dashed our plans. The owner, ‘Olga’s dad’―his name was apparently Elegio Eulogia―was out of town to see a doctor in order to get a chronic disease treated.

“Hrm. This will somewhat complicate things―but no matter. We mustn’t get stuck on every impediment,” the priest said. “Let us check in with our second most important information source.”

“The second most important? Who might that be?” I asked.

“This case is full of unknowns, and for us outsiders the biggest of them all is the very village we’re in. Thus, we ought to speak with the representative of this place.”

And right as he said so with his proper and composed look, the door swung open behind him.

“Heya, did you all sleep well?” It was Sapria Valpurga, entering her daughter’s room full of cheer and having seemingly never even entertained the option of knocking. “Sorry to bother you, but it seems the mayor invited you to his house. Whenever you’ve got a moment, feel free to pop by!”

And so our next destination was decided―the mayor’s residence, at the center of the village.

It seems that he'd been informed of our arrival into the village sometime prior. After being pointed in its direction, we soon arrived at the mayor’s home. The man himself waited for us outside his door with a nervous smile.

Despite it being the residence of the village's highest official, the house was no different in size or grandeur than any of the others around it. Well, to be fair, though we’d called him a mayor, in a village this tiny I doubt he even held any kind of actual governmental position－he seemed like more of a village chief than anything.

“W-welcome, welcome. My name is Klimnt Horheldorfel, and I serve as this village’s mayor. Please come in. Hold on for just a moment, I’ll serve you all some tea!” And that village chief was none other than the stammering lanky man before us, rubbing his hands nervously. His face was decorated by a brown bushy moustache which stood out against his yellowing skin.

“No need for pleasantries, sir. We have our questions for you, and I’m sure you’re also itching to know why we’ve intruded on your village like this,” Iscario said.

“Oh, nonsense!” he quickly yelled, his voice hitting numerous high notes uncomfortable to the ear. “Whatever your reasons, you are welcome here! I just wanted to offer you better accommodation during your stay. But that can wait, please, come in.”

The twitchy mayor led us into a parlor of sorts on the first floor, with two opposing sofas waiting for us, old and battered, a small table sandwiched between. It seemed this was the closest thing to a town hall that St. Purgatorio had.

“Please, go ahead and help yourselves.” Still smiling awkwardly, mayor Klimnt, seated opposite to us, pushed a plate of stale saltines that looked like they’d been left out as decoration for as long as the building had stood.

“Thank you.” But I'll pass. The others seemed to share my view, all except for Rafi, who took one of the crackers and was currently struggling to bite through it.

“I’ve been told that you’ve been resting at the Valpurgas’,” Klimnt began. “If staying in the same house as such a rambunctious family is proving too troublesome, I invite you to sleep in my home instead. You ought to have more space here, besides.”

“Oh, is that really alright?”

“Yes, certainly,” the mayor reassured. “My house has been empty for quite some time, ever since my wife and child passed away. I’m sure the rooms will be happy to see some use,” he added with a weak smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” I wasn’t sure how to react to his admission, but I felt a pang of shame at only being able to regurgitate stock phrases of sympathy.

“May their souls be graced by the Light,” solemnly uttered the priest.

“Thank you, Father,” Klimnt said, hanging his head.

I guess he can pull off stock phrases just fine though… Ignoring my supremely petty inner comments, Iscario resumed the conversation.

“In any case, we’re grateful for your hospitality. Now then,” the priest continued, smoothly switching tacks, “if you wouldn’t mind, we have a few things to ask you.”

Tensing up once again, the mayor straightened his posture and fixed his shifty gaze on us, as if prepared to bear whatever we hit him with.

“Tell me,” Iscario began, “how often do the people here have dealings with the outside world?”

“Oh, almost never. The nearest settlement is about three hours away to the south, but there’s no proper path through the forest to get there. And past the northern entrance you’ll find your path cut off by a stretch of cliffs a half hour’s distance away. Nature has isolated us.”

That means until I got here I’d been running blindly through the woods for at least three whole hours, huh. Humans sure can muster up a surprising level of energy when they’re desperate. Not that I’m human.

“That means you have no established trade routes with the outside at all?” Iscario’s eyes widened slightly. “I confess I find that slightly hard to believe.”

“This village has stood here for centuries now. We’ve grown to be self-sufficient, Father.” The faintest trace of pride shone through the mayor’s smile. “Village folks like us have to take care of one another to survive. But we’ve also been able to live our days in peace because of that.”

True enough, a settlement like this was likely to have gone more or less unnoticed throughout all the clashes that had taken place around here throughout the ages.

“What about people leaving this place, then?” asked Sister Rosalia. “How often does that happen?”

“Because there’s no trade with the outside, those of us here don’t have much of anything in the way of money. To leave, we have to carry crops with us in order to sell in the nearby settlement. A select number of villagers, including myself, have left in the past in order to get an education, but most end up returning here soon enough.”

“I’ve been told that one man by the name of Elegio Eulogia is currently outside the village receiving medical attention,” Iscario cut back in. “Is that true?”

“Ah, yes, old Elegio, he was sent to see a doctor in the closest city. He’s been gone for a few months now.”

“Do you not have any kind of healer within this village?”

“Oh, no,” laughed Mayor Klimnt in a small voice. “This isn’t the sort of village a medicine man would ever live in.”

“What do you mean by that,” the priest asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, well, the path of medicine requires years of study. We simply don’t have the wealth to send anyone to follow that path, and surely no outside doctor would choose to live here instead of moving to a bigger city where their services would be better appreciated.”

“Hm,” losing himself in thought for a few moments, Father Iscario then approached the mayor from a different angle. “Speaking of, do you get many outsiders visiting this village?”

“We’ve had years go by without a single outsider stepping foot here. And if you only want to look at those who dwell here for more than a day at most, then we’ve had periods even longer than that go by without anyone.”

“Is that right?” The priest interlocked his fingers, resting his chin on top of conjoined hands. He then fixed Mayor Klimnt with a stare that went on just long enough for the gaunt man to start fidgeting, before giving him release with another of his gentle smiles. And then, he resumed, “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you introduce me to this village’s priest?”

“Ah, well, see,” the mayor stammered, “actually, our priest sadly passed away two years ago, leaving no descendants to take his place. Of course, we’re currently looking into finding another young villager to inherit the role, but the preparations take time, yes.” He hung his head as he made the admission, staring at the floor in shame.

“Oh, is that so?” Iscario spoke in feigned surprise. “Know that you need only send word at the nearest church and we will gladly dispatch someone over to this village. The Heliocentric Church strives to reach out to all those that need it.”

“Yes, err, well, indeed,” Mayor Klimnt’s voice devolved into indistinct mumbling for a second, before finally mustering another complete sentence. “...It’s just been the village’s custom for our priest to be one of us. We’d hate to start imposing now, you understand.”

“Of course, that’s a perfectly reasonable thought process. Just know that you’re always welcome to appeal to us.” The priest nodded to himself, the same gentle smile on his face. And then smoothly, without missing a beat, he slid in a completely unrelated question. “Say, has a traveling priest visited your village sometime recently?”

“Huh!?” The non sequitur got a strong reaction from the mayor, who quickly tried to play it off, looking off to the side and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his palm. “W-what makes you think that, Father?”

The smile still seeped into his features, Iscario put his hand into his habit and pulled a certain object out―the Sealing Sacrament.

“We happened to find one of these in your humble little village. You might not be aware, but these are items that only those approved by the Phaethon may carry. So then, I can only imagine that’s how it found its way here.”

The perturbed mayor looked back and forth between the silver stake and the priest’s face, though soon enough his panic gave way to resignation. His head hung even lower, he answered, “―It is as you say, Father. It was a few months ago when he arrived into our village.”

“Well, that much I figured. But what I’d like to know is why everyone is so apprehensive when the topic comes up. And why this sacred object was just lying around here. Care to elucidate me?”

Still unable to meet his inquisitor’s eyes, the mayor wordlessly opened and closed his mouth like a fish struggling for oxygen. With priestly patience, Iscario simply continued observing him, and just as it seemed the mayor might be crushed by the pressure, he suddenly released it all from within him with a great sigh. Then, raising his head with a pained expression, Mayor Klimnt confessed.

“...We have so much to thank that traveling priest for. Even for such undeserving fools, he spent every effort to guide us. He instructed on how to craft a lock for the storehouse in the forest after it was ransacked. Elegio’s disease which we talked about earlier, he was also the one who urged him to go treat it, and even told him of a doctor who would help him free of charge. Even if the entire village worked their entire lives to repay him, I’m sure it wouldn’t be enough. But… But―!” the mayor’s voice trembled with emotion. “―It was an unfortunate accident. He―he passed away, here in the village.”

“...What happened after that?” Iscario asked, the smile wiped off of his face.

“We entrusted his body to nature, as is customary here in the village. As for his belongings, we decided that we must treasure them. I’ve been keeping them in my residence.”

“Then how did this Sacrament make its way to me, if that’s the case?”

“I-I’m sorry, I genuinely don’t know.” Placing his palms on the small table before us, the mayor bowed deeply.

“Tch.” I’d been hearing the grinding of teeth next to me for a while. Finally, it seemed she’d had enough, for the sister spoke up. “So you people are too cowardly to take responsibility for his death, huh?”

“T-that’s―”

“He died in your village, so whaddya do? You throw him away, steal his crap and make sure to never speak of him again. You didn’t tell the Church about him, did ya? Assumed he had no one but you who’d care if he croaked?”

“No, of course not―”

“All I’m hearing are the excuses of those left behind. You’re not the one who died, yet here you are acting like you’ve been hurt the most―Tch!”

Sister Rosalia’s tirade was interrupted as Father Iscario raised a hand to block her, not even turning to look at her. With a click of the tongue, she stood up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Then, as if it never happened, the priest’s expression once again turned into a warm smile. He placed his hands on the bowing man’s shoulder.

“Thank you for telling us,” he uttered. “In this fleeting life of ours, that pain and regret which you hold onto is the proof of your humanity. Under the light of the Sun, it too shines brilliantly. You should treasure it.”

Though I couldn’t see the mayor’s expression, I could see the tears falling from his eyes and pooling on the table beneath gleam as the day’s final rays of twilight struck them, his faint sobs echoing all the while.

Though my attention had been stolen by the spectacle, at that moment something urged me to look at Rafi. When I looked to my side, I found her wearing the same blank expression she always did. She stared intently, unflinchingly, at the mayor’s tears, no trace of emotion on her features. Though I wanted nothing more than to know what hid under that visage, I just sat there quietly, unable to move an inch.

The mayor gathered himself, then showed us to the rooms we would be using. Rosalia returned to the house at some point, not opening her mouth again, though she continued regarding the whimpering man with clear contempt, which made him easily earn my sympathy.

After that, as per Father Iscario’s request, we momentarily headed back to Rafi’s house to decide our next course of action.

As we approached the front door―Fwoshhh!

“Woah!” With a sharp sound cutting through the air, a dark something flew towards us from the air, its shockwave making me squint. Upon opening my eyes again, I was met by an unexpected sight.

“Well done, messenger.”

A large black bird sat perched atop Iscario’s outstretched arm, its wings still extended. In its long beak was a scroll, which the priest took out with his other arm. Rafi and I both looked at it wide-eyed.

“What the heck is this thing, your carrier pigeon? Doesn’t much look like a pigeon to me, though,” I said. I could see Sister Rosalia forming a rare happy smile while watching the creature. I guess even she has certain things she has a soft spot for.

“It’s a cormorant,” he explained. “We use these birds to send messages between us members of the Thirteenth Chamber.”

“Hoh.” It certainly did fit their image, somehow. “What’s this guy’s name, then?”

“Its designation is Carrier Nr. 72.”

“Huh? Now that’s not much of a name. That kind of ID only makes it sound like cattle.” I crossed my arms sternly. “I’d say it deserves better than that for working so hard to deliver your messages all the time.” I could see Rosalia standing behind the priest with her arms similarly crossed, nodding vehemently at my words.

“Why don’t you name it then?”

“Eh?” That simple suggestion threw the wind out of my sails entirely. “Me?”

“Sure, why not?” The priest truly didn’t seem to mind one way or the other. Meanwhile, I could see Sister Rosalia behind him, now glaring at me with a murderous glint in her eyes, her spear suddenly at the ready.

“Err, um, well, that’s…” Frantically searching for a way to avoid doom, my eyes caught sight of Rafi, ignoring our exchange and staring curiously into the cormorant’s eyes. “I know! Rafi! Why don’t you think of a name?”

“Hm?” She turned to me, her head slightly tilted. “Is that okay?”

“I don’t mind one way or the other,” the priest clarified, a disappointed nun hanging her head behind him.

“...Is it a girl?”

“It is a female, yes,” he replied.

“Then…” Looking at the bird’s eyes in contemplation for a while, Rafi eventually said, “...how about Helga?”

It was an odd name for an animal. Its syllables tugged painfully at me.

“Helga, huh?” The priest allowed the name to ring out. “If that’s what you’ve decided on, that’s what it shall be.”

The cormorant lowered its eyes from Rafi’s face, bowing like she’d just been knighted by her queen.

“So you’re Helga now, huh, buddy?” Rosalia looked a bit conflicted, though she ultimately smiled as she gently petted the bird’s back.

After dismissing the newly christened Helga, whose soaring figure was slowly absorbed into the evening sky like a blotch of ink dropped into a lake, Iscario opened the message and read through it, an inscrutable smile on his face.

“What was that message about anyway, if I may ask?”

“Finding that Sealing Sacrament was a dead giveaway that one of our own had visited this village before. So I wanted to check if there were any records of such. And sure enough, it seems like our good mayor was more or less telling the truth.”

My interest well and truly piqued, I waited for him to elaborate.

“‘Of the 4th Division of the Thirteenth Chamber of the Phaethon, number X―Ixio N. Kreuzigung.’ A so-called wanderer―one who tours the nation’s many towns and villages and surveys them for any vampiric activity. And it seems that this particular individual’s last known contact was around this region, about a year ago―he’s been missing ever since.” Stuffing the scroll into his habit, he turned to Rafi. “Does that name perchance ring any bells?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, not meeting his gaze. “That was his name.”

“Did you get to know him well?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t speak to him much.”

“Hmm… Do you happen to know how he―”

“Ah! There you are!”

Before the priest could finish his sentence, a nearby voice cut him off. From behind Rafi’s house, Sapria was fast approaching.

“Oh, mom.”

“Don’t give me that, where did you run off to all this time, dear?”

“I was―Wah!” Giving her no chance to explain herself, Sapria grabbed her daughter’s wrist with both hands and unceremoniously dragged her along.

“Stop wasting Father Rosenkranz and his helpers’ time with your games and come give me a hand with the housework, Rafflesia.”

“But I―Wawah!” Once again cutting her off, Sapria began spinning Rafi around by her arm at dizzying speed.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses, young lady!” She sure had a lot of energy, despite being a middle aged housewife. No, maybe it’s actually because she’s a middle aged housewife?

Idly watching the scene, I inadvertently mumbled out, “Your helper? Is that really what I look like?”

“It’s just your scrub energy at work,” the scowling nun beside me idly replied. “If I was you I’d be grateful she remembered me at all.”

“Riiight.”

Meanwhile, the smiling priest just kept on idly watching. And then, the smile vanishing from his face, just quietly enough that the mother and daughter pair wouldn’t hear, Iscario declared, “There’s something strange about this village.”

“...What do you mean?” Caught off guard, I followed suit and lowered my own voice.

“Not counting the brief period while number X was here, the village has been without a clergyman for over two years.”

“Is that so unnatural?” I asked.

“Tch. Damn ignorant city folks,” spat Sister Rosalia. What, now the entire urban population is on your bad side too?

Iscario explained, “In small rural communities like this one, the one with the most power isn’t the mayor; most of the time he’s just a figurehead. The real leader of the community is usually the priest. I suppose you could say that people closer to nature like this are typically more attuned to spirituality.”

That made sense, though I was much more inclined to chalk it up to people compensating for their lack of infrastructure by relying on faith. But I wasn’t about to give the nun another reason to yell at me by bringing it up. “But what do you make of this anomaly then?”

“Hard to say. It could be that this town has an unusual social structure. Or maybe there’s someone else who’s taken the leadership position. Or―”

“―They could be hiding something,” the sister added.

“...”

“...Well, it’s only a possibility,” Iscario clarified. “It’s something to keep in mind, but there’s no indication that it has anything to do with our matter. And to move on to more pertinent things―” saying that, he called out to the still-spinning mother. “Excuse me, m’am, could I bother you for a moment?”

“Oh, of course!” At his call, Sapria immediately stopped, catching her now thoroughly dizzy daughter in her arms. “What is it, Father?”

Putting his hand to his chest, he bowed. “I deeply apologize for the presumptuousness of my request, but could you allow your daughter to accompany us for just a while longer? I’m afraid there is something we need her help for.”

“Oh, is that so? By all means then, there’s no problem at all! Come on, Rafflesia, go help out.” Sapria removed her daughter from her embrace and mercilessly pushed her over towards us. Still woozy from the spinning, Rafi almost fell over, but surprisingly enough, Sister Rosalia jumped out and caught her.

“Awa―Augh!” She then gave her a chop to the head, saying, “Pull yourself together wouldja?” with a scowl.

“You’d prefer to accompany us in the investigation, right?” Iscario addressed Rafi.

“T-thank you,” she weakly replied.

The priest’s earlier comments still bothered me, but seeing no way to resolve that particular worry, I decided to stuff it into the back of my mind as we moved on.

Having confirmed Rafi’s assistance, for the time being we walked around the village to get a better lay of the land. That said, it wasn’t a particularly large settlement, and around twenty minutes of walking could probably get you across its entire diameter.

The summer sun had finally begun to set, so while the light hadn’t entirely faded, I still felt like I could breathe a little easier. Light tends to ease people’s anxieties, but it never had that effect on me. It wasn’t just the psychological aversion to a source of pain―rather, whenever I was surrounded by powerful light sources, I felt like a specimen under a microscope, like someone was scrutinizing me somehow.

The thought of that core difference would have normally made me sigh, but this village dampened the discomfort.

“It’s all so much dimmer… compared to the city.” I murmured under my breath. There were no streetlights, and the stars shone far brighter than I’d seen them in a very long time.

That being said, it wasn’t as though it felt bereft of human activity. On our short walk, a few villagers had crossed our paths, all busying themselves with various tasks yet never forgetting to greet us cheerfully―or rather, to greet the priest cheerfully. Though they at least acknowledged me, and it wasn’t like I particularly desired their attention.

“Hey, Vio Valakia.” Suddenly, that ever-popular priest addressed me.

“Hm? What is it?”

“You just seem oddly relaxed. I assumed you’d be far more tense, traveling with us.”

“Well…” Now that you bring attention to it, I can’t help but stiffen up a bit. Especially given that scary nun next to you. Not voicing those thoughts, I smiled awkwardly. “I guess it’s been a while since I took a walk outside like this. To be honest, before this I hadn’t gone outside my house in a while.”

After Vince’s death, we lacked the motivation to move somewhere else, even though my cover identity had begun to outgrow my physical appearance. So I thought I’d try limiting how much people saw me on a regular basis. Not that I was ever much of an outdoorsy type… Tina’s funeral might have been the first time I’d seen most of those acquaintances since Vince’s, come to think of it.

“So you’re a shut-in too, huh? How pathetic.”

“What choice do I have when there are a bunch of scary people outside? How about you try reflecting on that!” I yelled back at Sister Rosalia’s crass remark, though her glare was enough to make me back down.

I sighed. “To be honest, I always felt uncomfortable openly walking around. Not enough to forgo it entirely, but…” The anxiety that somehow, somewhere, I’d be found out had never really gone away, even if I’d never really given it much serious thought. “But well, I’ve been caught already, so what’s the point in worrying about it now? I may as well just enjoy the freedom while it lasts!” I said lightheartedly, stretching my back.

“I’m not entirely sure how comfortable I should be with this sight, but well, a deal is a deal,” the priest said with a sigh of his own.

“Stop thinking about violent things and just enjoy this nice walk, would you?” I said, trying to divert the conversation.

“Don’t try to sell me on your old man hobbies,” spat the nun.

“What a horrible thing to say! Don’t call me an old man. I’m in the prime of my life, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah? How old are you, then?” she asked disinterestedly.

“Hmph, this year I hit the ripe young age of sixty-seven,” I said pridefully.

Everyone looked at me silently. Even Rafi, who’d been walking along with her eyes down, turned in my direction.

“I’m nineteen,” said Rosalia. That’s younger than expected.

“I’m sixteen…” said Rafi. That’s older than expected.

“I’m twenty-nine,” said Iscario. I’m not sure what I expected there.

I hung my head in defeat. “Fine, I guess I am a withered, dying old man after all…”

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” the priest said, chuckling. “You may have lived for a long time, but I get the feeling you lack true life experience.”

For some reason, that got me even more peeved. “Hmph, I guess I’ll have to solve this case and display my elderly wisdom!”

“Young or old, pick the one you wanna be already,” added a groaning nun, her head directed to the side and away from our meaningless exchange.

Continuing our idle walk, we hit upon the windmill at the edge of the village. A middle aged man working inside saw us through the opened doorway and waved. The priest waved back. Despite our cheery talk, he had been focused on taking in all he could of this landscape. Both he and the nun had been passively surveying the state of this settlement, the mindset and behavior of its citizens. They had no doubt grown sensitive to detecting growing unrest within otherwise ordinary places. My mind, however, was focused on something else entirely.

As I gazed emptily at the windmill, I put to words what had been occupying my thinking.

“I know thinking about it gets me nowhere, but I keep asking myself―just how unlikely it was, stumbling onto this whole affair.”

Arriving in this unknown village in itself is a wonder, but then finding the scene of the crime, and also getting there in time to save Rafi’s life?

“It’s practically a miracle,” I muttered, putting my astonishment into words.

“It would be wrong to call that a miracle, Vio Valakia.”

“Huh?” The priest’s solemn rebuttal grabbed my attention.

“A miracle is a divine gift bestowed upon the worthy. What you’ve encountered might have been worth describing as miraculous, but by the very nature of your being you’ve robbed it of such value―it’s nothing but cheating.”

“What do you mean?”

“As your life stretches on for eternity, you might encounter many more such coincidences. Time itself guarantees it. In a human’s life, it might make for a miracle, but for an immortal it’s no more than one of many, a rare but ultimately commonplace event. This world will become much too small for you. But that reach it will give you, that feeling of omnipotence, will not be the work of a miracle. It will be a boon that you’ve snatched for yourself, having refused to let your life end when it should’ve.”

Father Iscario’s words of rebuke didn’t strike me all that deeply. His faith would probably never allow him to acknowledge my existence as a fair one. Yet still…

“...Just one of many, huh?” If I lived on for centuries beyond this point, how would I look back upon that moment? Would I see it as the instant I’d used my entire life’s supply of luck? Or would it degrade into mundanity, become one of many others like it?

Our wandering around the village eventually led us in front of the church. Sequestered off to the eastern edge of the settlement, the old chapel building looked to be in solitude, its cracked stone walls and crooked spire giving me none of the inner calm and tranquility that such spiritual places are supposed to impart upon their visitors.

“Good. Even without a sanctioned priest, we still ought to check here as a matter of course,” Iscario muttered in satisfaction as he looked up at the rusted Luminary on the church roof.

“Well, good luck on the inspection, I hope you find something interesting in there,” I cheerfully declared, before turning around and attempting to smoothly walk away.

“Wait, Valakia. I think you should accompany us. There’s a chance you might notice something we wouldn’t, after all. More heads are always better for an investigation of this sort.” Iscario’s calm, analytical tone brought me to a screeching halt.

Turning only my head around, I replied, still very cheerfully, “My, you don’t need to sell yourselves short like that. I’m sure your trained senses and experience far surpass the abilities of a layman like me. Now if you’ll excuse me―”

“No, really, I think you’ll be super useful, you should really tag along,” Rosalia said, a sadistic smile crossing her lips. Is my suffering the only thing that brings you joy, lady!?

“...Well, let’s go in,” Rafi said, approaching the church door and reaching her hand out toward it.

“―Aaaah! Stop, don’t go in!” I ran over to her and pulled her back.

“Mm? What is it…?”

“Look,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Now that you’re a vampire, you’ll have to get used―or rather, unused―to certain things.”

As a rule, vampires aren’t to be seen anywhere near churches. This is not for any ideological reason, though I’m sure most aren’t the pious type anyway, but rather a very practical one―simple self-preservation. I’m not just talking about how they don’t want to be near their enemies’ strongholds either―the churches of Heliocentrism are all outfitted with artifacts similar to those stakes they hold, only on a much larger scale. To put it simply, a vampire simply touching the walls or floor of a church is enough for them to start burning. That’s why, though for a regular human the sight of a church might be a perfectly innocuous one, for someone like me it’s quite the source of fear.

“So make sure not to go near them from now on, okay?”

“I see… I’ll be careful.” Rafi nodded from above me as if deeply moved by my warning.

Still, despite this limitation, we had to investigate the place somehow, even though the two of us couldn’t even touch the ground. It really was a pickle.

Thankfully, Father Iscario had come up with the perfect solution.

“See? Comfortable, isn’t it?” He wore a radiant smile.

The sister, however, wore quite the opposite expression, a vein bulging on her forehead. “Not so fuckin’ comfortable for me though…”

The sister’s words were quite unsaintly, but I had to admit that I saw where she was coming from―that being the fact that she was currently holding me in her arms, in what is typically referred to as the ‘princess carry’. Rafi, who was being carried on Rosalia’s back, poked her head out from behind the nun’s shoulder, her widened eyes projecting the slightest hint that she was enjoying the situation. When pictured next to Rosalia’s snarling grimace, the two faces together made for quite the study in contrast.

“I guess you could consider this karma for your earlier taunting, huh? Haha.” I said from atop her arms.

“...”

“Though really, I have to question why I had to be the one in this position. Really, wouldn’t it be more fitting if Rafi and I switched places?”

“I think a more fitting position for you would be if I grabbed you by the ankles and mowed these lawns with your face.”

“...I’ll be quiet now.”

“Hey, why the hell do I have to carry both of ‘em anyway? Grab one too, Father!” Rosalia snapped.

“In this life there are trials whose weight you alone must carry. No one else can lighten that burden for you.” Iscario closed his eyes and nodded solemnly.

“Gkhhhhh! There’s no place in paradise for a priest like you!” Rosalia’s frustrated shriek did nothing to disturb the man. I guess religious orders aren’t exempt from superiors hazing their subordinates either, huh.

No justice in this world to be served for Rosalia’s mistreatment, we finally entered the church. Though I was spared from direct harm, it didn’t do anything to calm my nerves. I didn’t have any direct bad experiences with churches, but there was no way I could be cool, not after a lifetime of steering clear of them. Being princess carried by a girl didn’t provide much comfort either (especially when the girl in question was liable to drop me to the ground at any time).

However, my anxieties were soon assuaged―Iscario suddenly stopped in his tracks a few steps into the building.

“Hn? What’s the matter?” Rosalia asked.

“...It appears the world doesn’t intend on giving you any such trials today after all, Sister Rosalia.”

“Huh…?”

The priest mysteriously pointed up towards the ceiling.

“This church… It doesn’t have any kind of protection against heresy.”

As I processed his statement, a bad premonition formed in the pit of my stomach. Seconds later, that premonition came to fruition, as Rosalia unceremoniously dumped me on the floor.

“Owww! A warning wouldn’t hurt, you know!?” I complained as I rubbed my behind.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t give you one,” she quipped, kneeling so that Rafi could safely get down. I’m sensing some slight preferential treatment here. Sure enough, however, I wasn’t burning alive, so Iscario must have been right.

“Settle down, you two,” the priest warned. “This is a sacred place. Don’t disturb it―especially not while there’s a soul here seeking peace and tranquility.”

“Huh?”

It was then that, upon lifting my head and scanning my surroundings, I noticed a woman sitting at the farthest point away from us, in the very front row pew. She had her back to us, so all I could see was her long, straight black hair.

“Olga…” I heard Rafi mutter under her breath while looking at that person.

“Do you know her?” I whispered what now strikes me as quite the silly question, considering everyone in the village probably knew one another.

“She’s always at the church at this time…”

Come to think of it… Olga was a name I’d heard a couple of times already. She was the daughter of the forest storehouse’s owner. The way she spoke of her gave me the impression that they were close.

She must have heard us entering, but she hadn’t once turned around or acknowledged us. Perhaps she was too absorbed in prayer, facing the altar which held upon it an effigy of the prophet Heliosol, the founder of the Heliocentric faith, kneeling below the rays of the Sun.

So as not to disturb the chapel’s sanctity any further, we quietly walked forward towards that effigy, making sure to deafen our footsteps as much as possible. Gradually, as we got closer, more and more features of the praying woman’s face revealed themselves―white ears poking out from between locks of black hair, then white cheeks which ever so faintly protruded outward, and then as a hint of her black eyelashes became visible I felt a knot form in my stomach, the inherent contradiction born of an impossible recognition making my head spin. The closer and closer I got, the more of her visage was revealed to me, the more my feeble attempts at denial were broken down. The only option left to me was to stop my feet from moving any further, and yet as if to take away even that option from me, the woman at last turned her face to us, her thin eyes and thin smile robbing me of all ways out.

“It seems you’ve made some lively new friends, Rafflesia. I’m glad.” Her eyes drew everything in, absorbed it all, and yet her disarming smile forgave everything, accepting it all as it was. That was the impression Olga Eulogia gave me.

Sitting up from the pew, Olga turned to us and bowed deeply. She was dressed plainly, the way any ordinary village girl might be, but her long, silky dark hair alone gave her the luxurious air of a noblewoman. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Father Iscario, Sister Rosalia. And you, of course, Vio Valakia.”

I gave a stunted bow in return, while Iscario put his palm to his chest, uttering, “Likewise.”

Raising her head, Olga continued, “Welcome to St. Purgatorio’s church. I know that I am unfit to be the one to greet you here, but unfortunately at the moment our village has no priest.”

“Please,” Iscario said, “do not call yourself unworthy. Clearly, the fact that you stand here now, and that you’ve made a habit of standing here even when no one else would, is proof enough of your piety.”

“Your kind words are wasted on me, Father,” Olga said, closing her eyes momentarily, before turning to the effigy behind her and gently caressing it. “I’m not here because of piety. It’s just―This church must be lonely, with no one to tend to it. I just like keeping it company.”

“Then I’ll be the one to thank you on its behalf,” Iscario nodded. “And speaking of this church, I’d like to ask you―what sect does it belong to?”

As with most large religions, the Heliocentric Church was divided into many different branches and sects, though all those I knew of were antagonistic towards vampires. Still, there might have been some sect out there whose churches weren’t furnished with anti-vampiric artifacts―it’s due to that logic that Iscario asked his question.

“Sect?” Olga appeared confused for a moment. “Ah… Yes, I believe he told me about them before…” After thinking to herself for a bit, she replied, “I’m sorry, I’m not really sure. I don’t think anyone else in the village could answer you either.”

“Hmm?”

“Those sects which you speak of, they only exist to differentiate the ways in which different groups of people manifest their faith. But our village has been isolated for the longest time―we don’t interact with any other faith than our own. We don’t know how our ways differ from those of the main branch.”

“I see,” Iscario muttered, his hand to his chin. “It must have evolved into a separate branch in its own right by now.”

“Father, please,” Olga said, her head downturned, “don’t begrudge us for our ignorance. Our prayers might be mistaken, but I want you to believe that our belief, at least, is truthful.”

“Raise your head, Miss Eulogia. I will never belittle the way in which one expresses their faith. As long as your love is real, your prayers, in their mistaken form, will always be worth far more than empty recitals, however canonical they might be.”

“...He said something similar, too.” Olga gave a bitter smile. “He was the one who told me all I know about the outside world―Father Ixio.”

The familiar name of an unfamiliar man―I’d only been half-paying mind to their conversation, but hearing that name made me snap to full attention.

“You knew him?” asked Iscario.

“I tried to. I really wanted to. Who knows whether I ever managed to, though,” she said, looking away. “He certainly didn’t let himself be easily understood―and then before I could ever get a straight answer, he was gone, just like that.” Her smile wavered ever so slightly as she muttered out that last part.

“...Would you tell me about how he passed?”

“It was an accident. He had bad luck―there’s no other way I can put it.”

“So we’ve been told. However, we’ve yet to hear the details.”

“...” Olga stood there in silence for a moment―before briefly glancing at Rafi. Then, she finally began speaking, her head down. “...It was a storm. A horrific storm, stronger than I’d ever experienced. I managed to find shelter at the time, but even then I felt like I was about to be swept away. And unfortunately, Father Ixio had it even worse―he was outside at the time. And…” she paused for a moment to collect herself, somehow managing to speak in a perfectly even tone. “...Our homes weren’t built to withstand that level of force. One particularly old house was almost uprooted entirely, its top half eventually being torn off. And that debris―it landed directly onto him.”

None of us could speak. The image it brought to mind was just too powerful, too striking. I couldn’t look her in the eye.

Come to think of it, this region of the Dukedom of Grimgrave was very close to a territory cursed by terrible storms every year. Perhaps that calamity had been caused by a stray storm spawned there. Such matter of fact thoughts ran through my head, trying to distract from the stark reality she’d presented.

“...Thank you,” Iscario eventually replied, “and I apologize for making you relive such a horrible event. However, I am sure there is meaning in hearing it from you, someone that cared for him.”

“Cared for him, huh?” She smiled, her eyes still down. “Excuse me, may I say something insolent and sinful?”

“...Go ahead.”

“Father Ixio was always the type to do things for others that no one would ever ask of him. And he’d do it quietly, out of the way, so as never to hear a word of gratitude for it. That must be what it means to be a holy man, and yet I’d always thought him foolish for it.” She finally looked up at us, her eyes moist and red. “But he never once asked me to look out for this church either. I must be quite the fool in my own way, huh?”

Olga saw us off with a smile. Even despite her tearful face, that smile alone looked much fuller than the one she’d first shown us.

“It’s gotten late,” Iscario said, looking up at the dark sky. “We should leave things off here for tonight. Tomorrow, we ought to speak to all of the villagers and gather alibis.”

None of us protested. I was still fatigued, and the others were probably in the same boat. The four of us quietly walked towards the mayor’s house, breathing in the fresh air. Despite the late hour, many of the houses still had light streaming out through the windows, and we could occasionally hear the muffled sound of boisterous laughter from groups of men and women out drinking late. It was a much more relaxed scene, a far cry from the silent village we’d seen just hours prior.

Mayor Horheldorfel’s house soon came into view. When we reached the front porch, I turned my head back in the direction of the church we’d come from. Only the very top of the Luminary could be seen peeking above the tiled roofs.

That woman… She must be… That thin, empty smile flashed in my mind once more, overlaid upon another, far wider, far more tragic one.

When I turned around once more, I caught Rosalia doorknob in hand, about to enter the house, Iscario trailing closely behind her. Meanwhile, Rafi had wordlessly continued walking off towards her own house.

Without even thinking, I started trotting in Rafi’s direction and, quickly catching up, called out to her.

“Hey, have a good night!”

She stopped and hesitantly turned to me. “...Good night.”

“Are you ready for another day of investigation? Sure is tough, huh? I mean, we’ve got barely anything to go off, and we have a whole village to sift through.” She looked down. Panicking, I added, “O-oh, but of course, I’ll still do my best to look. We’re sure to find something, alright? You don’t have to worry about a thing!”

“Can I…” she quietly said, still not looking at me, “ask you something?”

“Sure… I-I mean, yeah, of course, ask me anything!” My painful attempt at reassurance clearly wasn’t doing much for her, but my pride as an adult wouldn’t let me be a downer pessimist to a teenage girl.

“Why… why did you save me?”

“Huh?” Her question, however, shook my mind clean of any superficial concerns.

“Those two were after you, right? If you hadn’t saved me, you might have gotten away.”

“Heh. That’s an optimistic thought. I think I’ve been on the chopping block from the moment they caught sight of me,” I said, chuckling bitterly. “But that aside… I think it’s just normal to save someone who’s hurt, who’s about to die.”

“...”

“It’s just normal… It’s normal, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” she bluntly answered.

I chuckled bitterly. “You and me both. I have no idea what’s normal anymore. Up until just a while ago, I thought I was the most ordinary guy there is, but… I don’t think I can claim that anymore.”

“...” She just gazed silently into my eyes. I took it as a prompt to continue.

“You know… Not too long ago, a good friend of mine died. I’d known her for my entire life… Almost seven whole decades of being with someone. Can you imagine having someone like that? I can’t imagine not.

“But then she died. She got ill, and, well…”

“...” Rafi didn’t interrupt.

“She was married to another friend of mine. I’ve known him too, for pretty much the same amount of time. It was always the three of us, and then about a year ago, he passed away. And suddenly it was just Tina and I. And I…

“I think she didn’t really feel like living on, anymore. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d rather be with the one man she really loved.”

“...” She continued listening.

“But I tried to save her anyway. No… I mean, I tried to keep her from dying. I tried to do the same thing to her that I did to you. But I failed.

“I failed, and I… I don’t know whether I should be glad or not. I know she wouldn’t have wanted it. I know I betrayed her. But… aren’t people supposed to keep living?” I looked down, my voice getting louder and louder. “When someone close to you dies, you’re supposed to move on, aren’t you? To heal, and to live on? I’ve both heard and uttered that platitude many times in my life from and to many different people, so at what point exactly did that stop being the case? Why is it so monstrous to still want her here?”

“I… don’t know,” Rafi plainly muttered, her subdued statement snapping me out of my selfish rant. And as I recalled the memory she’d given me, I began to regret ever foolishly opening my mouth.

“...I’m sorry. Of course, it’s not up to you to judge my stupid decisions. I don’t know what got into me. I must just be tired.” I adopted that friendly, saccharine tone again as I desperately tried to steer away the conversation. But ignoring my efforts, Rafi continued.

“I don’t know… I don’t know, but… The fact that I woke up… it probably means that I wanted to live.

“So thank you. Thank you for indulging that wish.”

Her large, clear blue eyes stared right into mine.

“...” It was my turn to be stunned into silence.

That obvious―that painfully obvious statement, she uttered almost as if it was an admission of guilt. A genuine smile of appreciation overtook the crooked imitation I’d plastered over my face.

“No, thank you. I’m just glad I got to be useful for once.”

And on that strange, uncertain note, with nothing settled and yet uncharacteristically satisfied, we said our goodbyes for the night.

“Haaah.” Once I finally got to lay down on the bed, all the exhaustion I’d suppressed spilled out of me.

The mayor’s house was narrow in terms of space, mostly extending vertically. My room was in the basement, and to reach it you had to descend a winding staircase with a harsh angle, its steps barely wide enough to plant half your foot on.

I was so stuck worrying about my footing that when I got down I almost went into the wrong room. It’s tough to orient oneself when there isn’t any kind of decoration to speak of.

I looked around at the dreary room. The lack of natural light wasn’t something you’d catch me complaining about, but it was so lacking in anything outside of the strictly functional that it felt more like a prison cell than a guest room.

It wasn’t just the basement. Everything I’d seen of the house was like this. There certainly weren’t any potted plants or ships in bottles around. I couldn’t imagine living in a house like this.

I sighed to myself. Why am I complaining about this? Here I was on furlough from a death sentence and the lacking decor was the foremost thing on my mind. What a joke.

“Ah.” As I lay there lost in meaningless self-deprecation, I suddenly heard a voice coming from the doorway. Instinctively sitting up to locate its source, I caught a glimpse of a truly unexpected sight.

Rosalia, dressed not in her usual sister outfit but instead a white camisole, her hair flowing freely and unobstructed by her headpiece, sat there frozen at the door, a change of clothes hanging atop her arm.

I guess I'm not the only one getting confused in that hallway. As I thought that, no doubt an awkward smile creeping onto my face, the nun scowled and turned around with heavy steps.

“W-wait!” Before I knew it, I’d called out to her, stopping her before she could slam the door shut. She yelled back an impatient “What!”

“Um, err…” Even I didn’t know what I wanted to say. “Have a good night?” Failing to produce anything more meaningful than that, I replied with pointless courtesy that for some reason got her to freeze in place. A moment later, she turned around and entered the room, her steps still heavy.

“Tell me,” she said, standing a few centimeters away from the bed and looking down on me fiercely, “why do you insist on performing these inane acts of goodwill?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a crazy bastard, the kind who doesn’t mind acting casually around his enemies? Or do you perhaps think that by acting all buddy-buddy, you can somehow get us to spare you? Or maybe, you’re just such a worthless coward that you can’t even muster up the guts to show aggression, even to those out to kill you? I’m leaning towards the last option, but just kindly clear it up for me. Just so I know what to say to you when I finally put you under.”

“...Hm. I see.” It finally dawned on me as I looked at her furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth. “It must be pretty tough on you, too. Having to treat someone like an enemy without them viewing you as such. Having to hate someone without being hated yourself. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“H-hah!?” She let out a high-pitched grunt, like she couldn’t believe her ears.

“I’m sorry,” I smiled bitterly, “but I won’t be doing anything about that. You’ll just have to live with it. Call it my one act of defiance.

“Now, if I must answer your earlier question, I guess I’d put it like this: I’m a human being.”

“―What?” She growled.

Amused by her dubious glare, I explained. “I’m aware you might not view it as such, but I’ve lived my entire life thinking of myself as nothing more or less than a human being. And human beings, I find, hate others for stuff like petty personal grudges. I’ve none of those against you. They might also fear others as monsters, when they think that it’s impossible to communicate with them. But I don’t feel that way about you either. In other words, there’s no particular reason for me to hate you, and there’s no particular reason for you to hate me.” I yawned. “Well, you might disagree with that last one though.”

“...” She glared at me in silence.

“Does that idea make you uncomfortable? Having to kill someone whom you don’t hate?” I asked.

“...Kah!” At last, she scoffed. “You fuckin’ wish. I’ll kill you regardless, that much is certain. And I got no problems hating you, no matter what you do or don’t.”

“Then it seems we have no issues after all,” I said, grinning.

She turned her back to me again, preparing to leave. The smile fading from my face, I called out to her once more. “I… I have something to ask you, after all.”

She said nothing, but didn’t step any further either.

“...Please, tell me more about your sister.” I finally mustered up the courage to ask about that which had compelled me to stop her to begin with.

“Huh?” She turned her head back abruptly, glaring wide-eyed at me. “And why the hell should I have to do that?”

“You certainly don’t have to,” I said, lifting my gaze to look her in the eye. “But I want to know more about the person who will kill me. Would you grant me that selfish favor?”

“...” For a time, she stood silent and unmoving. She looked straight into my eyes. I looked back, not wavering.

After what seemed like forever, she quietly began walking―she stepped over to a corner of the room, and dragged a creaky, uncomfortable-looking wooden chair over.

Unceremoniously plopping herself on it with a sigh, she began speaking hesitantly.

“―I’m not telling you a thing about her life. That’s not for you to hear. But I guess I can tell you about her death. Keep your ears open.

“Azalia Y. Dornenkrone―she too had a number and a division and a chamber, but to me that’s all of who she was―my big sister Azalia,” she began, speaking in a level tone. “―No, that’s not right. I shouldn’t speak falsehoods.

“Part of me did look at her as Azalia the holy guardswoman. The noble, respected woman who protected the holy land of the Phaethon with all of her body and soul. But I knew just as well that she was a softhearted person deep down, someone that had compassion for everyone.

“―That’s why I thought she really wasn’t suited for the job. She wasn’t a bitch like me. But it wasn’t my place to say anythin’ about it.”

“...What happened?”

“She got put in charge of watching a vampire. They captured the bastard, but they didn’t silence him immediately.” As she spoke of ‘him’, I could feel a malignant note creep into her voice, though it was gone not a moment later. “They were using him as an experiment. To ‘test the vampiric metabolism’, apparently. Let’s not mince words―It was torture, plain and simple.”

“......” A shiver ran down my back.

“What, feeling sorry for the poor sap?”

“No, I―”

“Well you’d be right to. So did my sister. I could tell the job was painful for her. She thought that nobody would realize it, but I noticed when she eventually began talking to the guy, trying to communicate―not that he was in any shape to respond.”

I felt a knot of anxiety build up somewhere inside my chest. I knew I didn’t want to hear what she’d tell me next, but I knew even more than that that I would be the world’s worst coward if I dared to stop listening now.

“Well, from here it’s mostly speculation, but she must have eventually felt so guilty that she tried letting him escape. Maybe she thought all her one-sided chatter actually meant something. What a dumbass.

“Well, what’s definite is that the following day we found an unlocked prison cell―and my sister’s corpse in it, her head stuffed inside her ribcage and her heart stuffed inside her mouth.”

“............”

“So I may have nothing personal against you, but when it comes to that man―when it comes to Black-Eyed Nevermore, it’s an entirely different story.”

“...Wait, that’s―” It was the name of an infamous vampire who’d terrorized a town with a horrific killing spree. They say that by the time he was finally caught he’d razed the place to the ground.

She chuckled to herself. “My sister’s taste in men really was horrible, wasn’t it? Come to think of it, she never did go out in the field for real.”

Her callous laugh rang out. The attention-grabbing smile on her face desperately tried to lead my eyes away from her trembling fists, clenched tightly enough to draw blood.

“...I see,” I managed to squeeze out, looking down at the floor. “So that’s your reason for hating me.”

“Huh?” She let out an incredulous grunt as she turned to me.

“You can’t forgive me for still wanting to live on, can you? Even though the people most important to me have already passed on.” I hesitated for a moment. “―Even though it must feel like you died along with her that day.”

Crash!

Splinters flew from the floorboards below. Gleaming silver stabbed through the ground, the candlelight reflecting off of it, alongside my own twisted image. The nun holding her spear looked down, her eyes hidden from view though her fury was plain to see.

“I can’t stand you because you’re a demon! I want you dead because you’re an abomination who ought to disappear from this world!” Spittle flew as the seething nun professed her hatred to me. “There’s nothing else to it! A monster like you deserves to die!”

“I won’t deny that,” I said, thinking back to that bloody scene I’d found myself witness to in that dusty old storehouse and somehow managing to look her in the eye again, “But can you say the same about her?”

“―” She gaped, her anger wavering. She must have taken this hesitation itself as a sign of weakness, because in the next moment she forcefully pulled the spear out of the floor and swung it around to correct her one-handed grip, almost grazing me in the process, before turning around and wordlessly exiting the room. She finally got to slam the door behind her, too, for good measure.

I sighed as I looked at the gaping hole she’d left in the mayor’s floorboards. I sure blew it. I leaned backwards and fell into the bed. It wasn’t even close to the softness of my mattress back home, but it felt more comforting than I’d ever thought a bed to be.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to understand her. Maybe it was impossible for us to reach an understanding in the first place. But I didn’t want to believe so.

I didn’t want to be hated. I didn’t want to hate anyone. That was how I’d lived my entire life. I didn’t have any mission worth standing up and fighting for, no ideal worth drowning for. If I ever noticed the signs of conflict brewing, I’d just pack my bags and leave. Running away may not be a respectable decision, but it’s the one I’d choose regardless if it meant avoiding that kind of pain.

But people can only run so far, right? That’s why you hate me the way you do, isn’t it, Sister Rosalia?

Still, those eyes… My mind flashed to her twitching eyes as she thought about Rafi, as she considered head on what it would mean to look at her as an enemy.

I clenched my fists. I want to see the truth of this case… isn’t that right? Even though it would spell the end of everything?

With thoughts like those crawling around in my tired brain, my first day in St. Purgatorio came to an end.