Chapter 27: The Choice
"Philosopher's Stone...."
l repeated the words softly, then picked up a slice of bread, placed it in the thick soup, and let the bread absorb the liquid.
"But what does this have to do with ?"
She asked.
"I'm only in the Stress Phase. Even if you drained all my Quintessence, it would probably be hard to even beco The Baptized."
The girl picked up the soup-soaked slice of bread, took a small bite, and savored the soup wrapped in the aroma of wheat.
The mont the soup-soaked bread collapsed between her lips, the aroma of wheat and the sweetness of the onion intertwined in her mouth.
Her tongue felt the soft, dense texture of the bread after it had absorbed the soup.
"On the contrary."
The white dove said.
"The ritual requires burning Quintessence as energy, and Jessica was the mber responsible for collecting the Quintessence. She had already collected about thirty people's worth of Quintessence. Although it might not have been enough for the ceremony, it was still a considerable amount. But then, Jessica died at your hands, and all thirty people's worth of Quintessence were sacrificed to the Red Moon by you. Of course, it's not impossible that so of it was absorbed by you, but a Shepherd in the Stress Phase can't bear that much Quintessence, so most of it should be with the Red Moon. Just like this bowl of soup."
The white dove said.
"Although most of the soup is in the pot, a portion of it was still absorbed by the bread. But none of that matters, because from the Omniscience Society's perspective, you took that Quintessence. So, they're preparing to co and collect the debt from you."
l listened to the white dove, and the slice of bread in her hand gently stirred the thick soup.
The golden-yellow soup swirled in the bowl, just like her thoughts at the mont.
"But I had no choice at the ti."
"Choice?"
The white dove lightly shook its feathers.
Moonlight stread through the window and fell on its body.
"Many tis, in the eyes of others, your choice doesn't matter at all; what matters is the result. The Quintessence disappeared, and you were the only one who had co into contact with it. It's that simple. Even if the Omniscience Society discovers the truth, they still won't let you go. After all, if they can't recover the debt, they have to choose to cut their losses in ti, right?"
Hearing this, l fell silent.
The white dove was right.
Her choice didn't matter at all.
The Red Moon didn't give her a choice, Jessica didn't give her a choice, and the Omniscience Society would not give her a choice either.
"If necessary, The Fifth Departnt will place you under protective surveillance."
Seeing that l didn't speak, the white dove spoke up on its own accord.
"Of course, we are already investigating the movents of the Omniscience Society. If you're still not at ease, you can go find Oliver. Red Moon believers are already at odds with Knowledge believers, not to ntion a fanatical cult like the Omniscience Society. With Oliver there, you'll be fine."
"I understand."
After a long silence, l replied softly.
"So, from now on—"
"No, you don't need to put under protective surveillance."
l shook her head.
Hearing this, the white dove paused slightly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
l nodded, looking up to et the white dove’s gaze.
"I'll go to Bishop Oliver for help."
"Alright then."
The white dove nodded, then spread its wings and flew towards the windowsill.
As if it had a premonition of what the girl was about to do, the white dove only said one thing before flying away:
"Any level of counterattack against a fanatic's attack will be regarded as legitimate self-defense and will not be investigated."
With that, the white dove flapped its wings and disappeared into the night.
Only the girl was left alone, facing the still-steaming dinner on the table.
l stared at the dinner in front of her.
The aroma of onion and potato stew lingered in her nose, but it could not calm the turmoil in her heart.
The news from the white dove was like a huge stone pressing on l's chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.
She chanically scooped up a spoonful of the thick soup and ate it with the bread.
The temperature and rich flavor of the soup blood on her tongue, but it couldn't bring the usual pleasure.
l chewed the soup-soaked bread, feeling the process of it slowly softening and disintegrating in her mouth.
She felt like this piece of bread, being slowly broken down by various forces, losing her sense of self.
The light clink of the spoon against the porcelain bowl was exceptionally clear in the silence.
l chanically dipped the last piece of bread into the now-cold soup, watching the congealed grease floating on the surface.
The evening bell of Saint Margaret's Church rang from outside the window.
The twilight flowed along the edge of the dinner knife, pinning the girl's shadow to the wooden floor.
Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the lock at the entrance pulled l back to reality.
The girl quickly stood up, but her knee accidentally bumped into the table leg.
The clatter of bowls and dishes made a sound of panic, mixed with the girl's whimpering.
"I'm ho!"
Veronica's voice rushed in with the night wind.
The sll of mothballs from her librarian's uniform entered the kitchen before she did.
"Soone anonymously dropped off several stacks of ancient books today. It took a long ti just to sort them out. Tonight, I might have to—l, what's wrong?"
Veronica, holding a stack of ancient books in her hand, stood at the door, looking at her sister sitting on the floor, clutching her knee.
She then quickly walked forward.
"N... nothing...."
l stood up and patted her knee, then picked up the soup bowl and walked toward the kitchen.
"I'll go and heat up the soup for you."
Hearing this, Veronica glanced at the thick soup in the bowl.
"Are we having onion and potato stew tonight?"
"I also added butter."
l laughed, as if to keep Veronica from worrying.
There was no trace of gloom on the girl's face now.
"Is that so?
Well, then I'm even more excited."
Veronica smiled and sat down in a chair, watching l's busy figure in the kitchen.
l poured the soup back into the pot.
When she stirred it with the spoon, the golden-yellow liquid rippled finely.
The butter stretched out again in the residual heat, staining the broken onions an amber color.
"What kind of books did you get today?"
l sprinkled so chopped parsley into the pot.
The rising steam blurred her vision.
"Hmm... ' Illustrated Guide to Ancient Farm Implents,' 'Astrology and Grain Growing Cycles.' They're all so strange books."
Veronica stacked the ancient books in the corner of the dining table.
The gold powder that rubbed off the parchnt covers glittered in the twilight.
"And these books have a strange sll on them—"
She suddenly leaned close to l and gently hugged her.
"It's the sa sll you're slling right now."
l paused slightly, then subconsciously sniffed.
Deep within the scent of mothballs and old paper pulp, a tallic, fishy sll lingered in her nose, similar to rusty nails soaked in rainwater.
It was nauseating.
"It slls bad, right?"
Veronica released l and turned to get the cutlery.
"The manager said it might be so kind of printing dye that has deteriorated over ti, but I always feel that...."
"Maybe it will be fine after airing for a few days."
l said, then poured the re-boiled thick soup back into the bowl.
"Okay, dinner is ready."
"Yay"
Veronica happily returned to her seat.
l sat across from her, and the two of them exchanged their trivial daily routines in the deepening night.
l complained that the bakery east of the market always baked its baguettes too hard, while Veronica talked about a few centuries-old bread recipes she had discovered in a book.
When the topic shifted to whether they should add new potted plants to the windowsill, the last piece of soup-soaked bread quietly disappeared under the dinner knife.
In the study late at night, the honey-colored light from the desk lamp flowed.
When l pushed the door open with a cup of hot milk, she saw Veronica's fingertips stroking the gilded title of a hardcover book—"On Soil Improvent and Root System Cultivation"
The leather cover at the intersection of light and shadow showed raised patterns similar to blood vessels.
The rustling sound of turning pages ca to a sudden halt.
When Veronica looked up, those faint, vein-like patterns under the lamp light suddenly returned to the ordinary marble-patterned cover, as if the previous anomaly was just the shadow cast by her eyelashes.
"It's ti to rest, big sister."
l said.
"Wait a little longer. I'll go to bed after I've sorted out the rest of these books."
Veronica yawned, then held up the book she was holding.
"Look," she showed the copperplate print on the inner page.
The tal lines of the plow shone with a cold light on the paper.
"I didn't expect old books to have illustrations. It's just that the sll of the ink really..."
Veronica suddenly frowned and pressed her temple.
Seeing this, l reached out and took the book.
The next mont her skin touched the surface of the book, her fingertips felt a sticky sensation, like touching a fresh wound.
The girl was slightly stunned and subconsciously let go, letting the book fall to the ground.
The open book lay in the shadows.
On the copperplate print on the inner page, a dark liquid was seeping from the blade of the plow in the farr's hand, slowly staining the words "104th Year, Fourth Edition" below.
"Sorry...."
l bent down to pick up the book.
As the book returned to the embrace of the light, everything returned to normal.
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