### Chapter 123: The Aria
“So, you’re clueless about the situation in the Holy City?”
“That Archbishop who came to see you, Doctor Chris—what did he say? Where did Chris come from, and what happened to him? What do you know?”
“You don’t know anything, do you—”
For Aili, her choir group, which had come to the town, felt like they’d been dropped off in a strange place. Although the Church provided them with plenty of food and accommodation money, once the convoy left, no one contacted them again.
She didn’t even know who she was supposed to wait for.
It wasn’t until an Archbishop named Hogtus approached them at the end of October that Aili and her choir regained contact with the higher-ups of the Church—at least, that’s what she thought.
Of course, at that time she hesitated about whether to heed this suddenly appeared Archbishop’s orders. Under normal circumstances, only Cardinal Michel could command the Choir, and even other Archbishops didn’t have the authority to mobilize them.
But before long, Hogtus brought their big shot along.
Doctor Chris.
Although Aili and the others had never met him, he was undeniably the big guy in the Choir, second only to the Romani Doctor. Not only because Romani had mentioned his name once, but the Choir had its own set of secret codes for recognizing each other. Aili didn’t want to explain that in detail, and I didn’t want to pry.
Knowing about such matters didn’t seem to hold much significance anymore.
Doctor Chris was there to take one of the kids who could pick locks.
If it weren’t for that, the choir kids might not even have realized that there were a few others who acted at the same time they did on the night of the attack, while they had just been used as bait from the very start.
The Church didn’t care about any secret letters, whether it was the Archbishop or that big shot. Their purpose of sending them to the mansion on Longdoll Street was purely for their own selfish reasons. Aili had figured this out just by watching that public trial unfold.
She understood how the public felt about the Church and the Currency Exchange too.
—It was nothing like what Temple Church said at all.
Nothing like it.
“And in the end, I really… don’t understand anything…”
After discussing everything that needed to be discussed, Aili sat in the brightly lit side hall on the second floor, gazing out the window at the continuous cold rain pitter-pattering against the glass, her figure small and frail.
The firelight flickered through the metal window frame, casting dancing shadows on her face, mirroring her fluctuating emotions.
I sat nearby in silence for a very long time.
“Not understanding anything means you’re just not ready for it yet. Not everyone can bear such things,” I told her.
“So, what should we do? Have you figured it out?” I asked.
As I spoke, Aili slowly turned her gaze to me.
“I…”
I could see the confusion and helplessness in her eyes.
It was like standing in the middle of a narrow road, unable to see the distance ahead, unsure of which way to go. When she turned around in bewilderment, she found that there was not even a single light behind her.
“Sister Peilo, remember when we were in Winter City?”
Hearing her say that, I nodded and replied, “Yeah.”
Of course, I remembered.
I remembered Aili back then, small in stature, her hair fluffy and comforting to ruffle, always wearing a simple, pure smile.
I had always loved her smile.
“Back then, I had only just met you… There was a time I got lost, and I pointed the way for you. I talked a lot with you along the way… I’ve been trying to remember what we talked about these days, but I realize I’ve forgotten a lot.”
The girl said, squinting and laughing again.
“I remember you asked me why I wanted to become a nun… I remember that, but how did I answer? I keep thinking about it, but I just can’t remember.”
That smile was tinged with a hint of sadness and loss. The girl looked at me and said softly, with a touch of self-deprecation, “Looks like being young really means not remembering much.”
I didn’t like that smile of hers.
…
Under the high, cold moon in the deep night, I found myself alone in the town Aili had mentioned.
This was also the town where that captured Archbishop was hiding. Although Aili might not have realized it, I could immediately grasp from her words that the Choir was probably doomed. Chris was definitely not coming from outside the Holy City, like the Holy Wall or somewhere. His corruption by the Abyss likely happened right in the Holy City.
And if we calculated the timing, it most likely occurred just before the lockdown.
Whatever disagreement he had with Romani was significant enough, and he might have even betrayed the Choir, running to the Royal City to steal the ancient divine words to save himself.
He knew that Aili and the others had been dispatched here. They were just a bunch of inconspicuous kids, unnecessary in the current situation, but using them as bait could definitely increase his chances of survival.
For Chris, the value of Archbishop Hogtus was probably about the same.
And vice versa.
By now, the night was deep, and I could still see the scattered figures of Royal City soldiers. This was a rural town living off the land, close to but distanced from the main roads—one of those remote places that was generally quiet. Today, however, it was bustling because of that Archbishop’s affair.
But my reason for coming here had nothing to do with all that.
Finding the house where Aili and the others were hiding, I dug up the iron box Aili had secretly buried in the fenced yard, under the moonlight. This was what the Romani Doctor had left for me.
I opened the iron box to find an old music box inside.
It was a bit dirty, a wooden box intricately sculpted, with a figure of a girl playing the piano, her black hair cascading down. Instead of a piano bench, she was sitting in a wheelchair.
At the bottom of the music box was a winding mechanism. When I twisted it, the girl in front of the piano began to move, and the music filled the air with “Air on the G String”. The piece was melodious and enchanting, and the crisp notes from the music box dissolved into the profoundly vast night sky.
As I listened, I slowly closed my eyes.
Memories, long sealed away, began to surface slowly in my heart.
Snowflakes danced down from the cliff like falling white butterflies in the twilight. The girl in the wheelchair stroked the piano keys gently, and suddenly looking back, I saw a graceful woman in a black cloak with a hat covering half of her face, named Romani, watching her intently, with a serene and warm smile.
So there had been such a time.
So I—
I had once trusted her without reservation.
And all of that had long since been consumed along with the snow, the wind, the pale hospital beds, the torment of countless needles, repeated cycles of hope and despair.
“Are you giving me this now to make me revisit that resentful hatred from back then…?”
“Romani Doctor.”
Under the night, as the music box’s melody came to an end, the girl’s eyes slowly turned as crimson as bl**d.
…
At the Royal Academy, inside the church.
A scruffy swordsman and a sulking female ball-handler knelt in the very spot where Sara, Daisy, and the little girl had knelt many days ago, offering a bouquet of flowers to the renowned Elder Berta, their eyes closed in prayer.
Behind them, an old nun sitting on the porch slightly squinted her eyes, lazily observing the swordsman’s back.
“Have they finally come?”
She murmured softly, standing up from her chair and walking toward the two.
“Mr. Carlos…”
