"So, a Catechist and a Councillor. Those sound like quite humble roles."
Chiara nodded but then paused as she noticed the gears in my head turning, my sight drifting into the distance.
"Is sothing wrong?"
Dropping the cup of hot chocolate she held, Chiara focused on . I finally voiced my dilemma.
"Though I have an idea, can you clarify for who a Catechist is?"
"Of course. A Catechist is a person who teaches the faith and doctrine of the Catholic Church. You can think of as a religious teacher, but specifically of the Catholic Church."
"Oh. So you’re a nun?" I asked, looking her up and down, checking if I had missed any detail.
"No," Chiara chuckled, understanding where I was going. "While nuns and priests also teach the faith and doctrine of the Church, the term ’Catechist’ is used for individuals who have not been ordained in any way."
Feeling freer with the woman, my mouth opened in the shape of an O. Understanding flooded into my head, and Chiara’s curiosity grew.
"From your questions, you’re definitely not a Catholic. So I’m guessing... a tourist?"
"Ehh, I can’t say no to that. I have been exploring, and I’m planning to enjoy the beauty of Ro, but tourism is not exactly what brought here."
Chiara studied again, then hit the nail on the head.
"You’re here for the Papal Assembly, the Pontifical Summit."
"Yeah, I believe that’s what it’s called."
"What faith are you of?"
"The Way of Varuna."
Chiara’s eyes narrowed, and then a small chuckle slipped from her lips.
"What kind of na is that?"
"Varunism. It’s a faith. We believe in Varuna, the Creator who watches over us all."
Though Chiara no longer laughed, the mirth on her face remained.
Sitting up straighter, I defended my faith. "You shouldn’t mock another’s religion. I could just as easily mock your God."
"Those are words that should be spoken by a true believer. Other than posing as a follower of Varuna, what else sets you apart, Mr. Lawson?"
My forehead creased at the question, but before I could answer, she raised her right hand and snapped at the counter.
The waiter arrived and placed two slips of paper before us, our bills.
With her chin resting on her palm, Chiara watched as I counted several euro notes and handed them to the waiter.
"Won’t you offer to pay for ?" she asked.
"You want to?"
"Yes please. I am very much a woman."
Shrugging, I pulled her bill toward and, after counting out several more notes, paid for both.
"You just forked out six thousand euros, twenty-five hundred for and thirty-five hundred for yourself. From this, can I say you’re the financer?"
"Yeah, I’m a billionaire. You didn’t need to call over the waiter, you could have just asked."
Chiara’s lips parted slightly, and she shook her head.
"Forgive . I only wanted to see the look of horror on your face when you saw the bill, to get a laugh from it."
"That’s evil."
"Don’t worry. I would have paid for you."
"And then what...?"
My next words ca fast. After saying them, I dipped a bun, popped it into my mouth, and watched Chiara, who now looked surprised.
"Well, I would have held you in debt to and used that to convert you to the light."
"You an convince you of Catholic doctrine, my faith."
"Yes."
I frowned slightly, finding her agenda diabolical. But from a neutral perspective, I couldn’t see anything wrong with it.
"With my current status, do you still plan to convert ?"
"Yes. I very much want to."
"Money?"
Chiara chuckled. "That’s an added bonus, but there’s more. What you need to know, though, is that I can offer you ten tis whatever the leaders of Varuna are offering."
"And what makes you think you know what they’re offering? Aren’t you assuming too much?"
"Unfortunately, I’m quite busy today, and tomorrow as well. But how about we et on Friday, Mr. Lawson? I’ll show you around the Vatican — you’ll see what the Church has to offer."
Not even waiting for to agree, Chiara stood up and stretched out her hand.
"It was nice eting you, Mr. Lawson. Till later."
As Chiara’s soft palm left mine, I watched her depart. Peeved by the loose dress she wore, but intrigued by her gentle steps, I returned my focus to my al.
I didn’t bother wondering too much about what she had in store for . It was obvious.
A uniquely dressed young man steps into a very special café, casually sits with a woman of powerful presence, orders without asking the price, and then proceeds to consu the food seamlessly.
The reason the café had only two custors had more to do with its extraordinary nature than its prices.
The café itself gave off an aura that repelled the ordinary. Only those who had touched the extraordinary could step in and even then, the question remained whether they could consu the food being served.
It was not normal for an ordinary person to eat food laced with ichor.
"How do they even make it?" I wondered.
When I finished at Bella Italia, I spent the next hours observing the city and purchasing a new wardrobe.
Though I did a lot of scouting, for the ti being, I avoided the Vatican.
Stretching across just 0.19 square miles, I could have observed the city with a single use of Echo, but I resisted. My instincts warned , and I knew better than to ignore them.
Of course, I looked out for won with big asses, talking to a few and making aningful introductions. Nothing intimate happened, though.
I could flirt, but I was strictly under orders not to entangle myself with anyone. My mistress was a very jealous woman.
On my way back to the hotel, I stopped at a supermarket, buying a few red apples and thick white milk.
From my observations so far, those were her favorites and I looked forward to seeing her satisfied smile.
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