"Patriarch Paul. He was the man behind all this. The Nolan diocese protested to the Holy See about what happened to you, and the Holy See's own Disciplinary Office also sensed sothing was amiss. I took a steam train to Bel Diran and watched him get executed with my own eyes."
Jenkins's mouth twitched. Decisive and ruthless. Impressive! That just about settled the resentnt festering inside him.
"It won't cause any trouble, will it? I don't exactly have any powerful backing. The only people I can rely on in the Church are Papa Oliver and Bishop Parrold. If his family..."
Papa Oliver gave Jenkins a light kick, signaling him to stop talking like that.
"He never married, dedicating his entire life to the Church. To think one wrong step would lead him to do sothing like this."
As he spoke, Mr. Smith closed the lid and slid the box toward Jenkins, who quickly pushed it back.
"You don't have to give it to . I'm just glad this is all resolved. But I hope that in the future, the Church can fully trust its own comra— ahem, its own Scribes. My loyalty to the Goddess is absolute, and spreading knowledge for the Sage will be my life's mission."
As soon as he finished speaking, the five people in the room tacitly made the holy symbol over their chests and recited in low voices:
"Praise the Sage. May your brilliance light the path forward for all people."
"The diocese will never let its Scribes be wronged. The credit for tonight's operation will go to you. Furthermore, the Holy See has guaranteed suitable compensation. I wonder if this arrangent is satisfactory, Mr. Williams."
"I can accept that."
Jenkins nodded at the mysterious woman. "It's truly regrettable that sothing like this happened, but the fault does not lie with us."
He glanced sideways at the box containing the head. "If the mistakes of our predecessors can serve as a warning to those who follow, and in doing so contribute to their future, then it is my honor."
"Just as Captain Bincy said, you always know the right thing to say at the right ti... Mr. Williams, I read your *Stranger's Story Collection* today. It was very interesting. As the author, would you be willing to give your autograph?"
As she spoke, she once again opened the naless book in her hands. Her fair fingers pinched a certain page and, with a gentle flick, Jenkins's collection of stories appeared on the table beside them.
"Of course."
He took the fountain pen he always carried from his pocket, opened the book to the title page, and simply wrote his na.
"There are signs it's been read. Maybe not a 'fan,' but she's at least looked through it."
This small discovery improved his mood considerably.
After seeing Jenkins and Papa Oliver off, Bevanna sat back down on the sofa. She looked down at the signature on the title page of the story collection, remaining silent for a long ti.
"Miss Bevanna, will this be enough?"
Mr. Bellini let out a long breath and sank back into the chair at his desk. Smith, the Keeper of Secrets, remained as silent as ever.
"It will do. The Holy See was indeed in the wrong on this matter. The Nolan diocese and the Holy See are of equal standing; beneath the Goddess, all are equal. The corrupting influence of secular power on the Church has grown severe in recent years. If I recall correctly, the father of the man in the box is an earl of the kingdom?"
"Yes, this incident is certainly connected to those of weak faith. Fortunately, it was stopped before the situation could escalate. Mr. Williams's status as a Saint Son was personally ordained by the Sage. That they would dare to be so bold... Hmph. Blasphers!"
Mr. Bellini nodded. He subconsciously reached for the cigarettes in his drawer, but seeing that a lady was still present, he simply offered an apologetic smile. ȐΑ𐌽ỖᛒĘꞨ
"The next few years are unlikely to be peaceful. While at sea, we saw the star of the new god in the sky—the purple of destiny. Heh... Still, are you sure Mr. Williams is alright?"
"At least, our examination revealed no problems."
Miss Bevanna put her book away and turned to gaze out at the silent night. "Williams said sothing rather fitting just now. The Church should trust its Scribes."
The atmosphere was awkward as he walked out with Papa Oliver. Jenkins was satisfied with how the matter had been handled. He had been the victim of a completely senseless disaster, and now that the culprit had been executed and the compensation was decent, there was no reason to dwell on it.
But Papa Oliver seed to think he shouldn't have hidden the truth.
"Papa Oliver."
He called out to his teacher in the empty courtyard.
"I should say sothing to ease the tension."
He thought for a mont, then said:
"The pistol you lent ... I'm not giving it back. It's a great gun. And the expenses for moving are huge. I'm running short on gold pounds."
He rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face.
Papa Oliver turned back, a little surprised. "Just a pistol? Is that all you've got in you?"
An astonished expression appeared on Jenkins's face.
The two of them walked out side by side, only to encounter soone unexpected in the darkened sermon hall.
Bishop Parrold was sitting on the pew closest to the pulpit, his head bowed as he prayed softly before the statue of the Sage.
Papa Oliver shook his head at Jenkins, signaling for him to stay, then quietly tiptoed out of the hall alone.
"Sit."
The old man finished his prayer, made the holy symbol over his chest, and then spoke to Jenkins, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
Jenkins imdiately sat down, then opened his pocket watch and glanced at it.
"It's already midnight, sir. Why are you still awake?"
The old man before him was not an Enchanter. At his age, staying up late could be very damaging to his health. Besides, Jenkins had long suspected that he himself had transmigrated after dying from pulling an all-nighter playing gas, which made him particularly sensitive about the topic. No matter how busy his day was, he never went to bed later than midnight.
"I was waiting for you."
The old man turned his head to look into Jenkins's eyes. His own blue irises were sowhat cloudy and filled with exhaustion, but they reflected the moonlight with a strange, complex light.
"I know more or less the whole story behind this incident."
"You don't need to worry, it's been resolved smoothly. I swear it on the Goddess!"
Jenkins imdiately vowed.
"No, no."
He shook his head.
"Young Jenkins, this matter is far more complicated than you think. The royal family's... no, I shouldn't be saying this."
The bishop glanced down at the brooch pinned to Jenkins's chest, and a faint smile appeared on his face:
"I'm sure many people have told you this tonight, but this incident had nothing to do with the Sage. You have every right to harbor so resentnt toward the Church, but I hope this doesn't shake your faith. However, that's not what I wanted to talk about. Jenkins, a year ago, I never would have imagined you would beco the person you are today. It's good, truly good. You're a good boy... But the higher you climb, the more you will realize that below Level 8, an individual's strength is not enough to stand against the collective. Before you can truly wield great power as your own, you must first adapt to the mundane world.
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