In the upper city of Igwynt, about a kilometer away from the Saint Tenet Hospital, there was a park.
During the daytime, the leaves in the park rustled under the gentle breeze, and the distant church bells chimed with a solemn rhythm. In a secluded corner of the park, on a bench, a girl with long white hair sat quietly. She wore a sun hat, a plaid top, and a brown skirt, with small leather boots on her feet. With her eyes closed, she seemed to be basking in the tranquility of her surroundings.
Amidst the sound of the wind and the church bells, Dorothy slowly opened her eyes, took in the peaceful scenery before her, and let out a long breath.
“Phew… I didn’t expect them to run into such a troublesome situation. Good thing I came to check; otherwise, this would have turned into a disaster.”
Dorothy murmured to herself. Just now, through a small corpse marionette she had placed inside the hospital, she had overheard a conversation between the doctors and nuns, discovering a serious issue.
After the battle at the manor, Dorothy had spent the past few days relaxing—reading books, strolling through the streets, drinking tea—easing her mind. Without the presence of the Crimson Eucharist in the city, the pressure she once felt had completely vanished, making the city feel unexpectedly refreshing.
In the midst of her leisure, Dorothy suddenly thought about Anna and the others. She went to the orphanage to look for them, intending to comfort them and check on their recovery. But none of them had returned. Dorothy assumed their treatment was still ongoing.
Wanting to find out more about their situation, Dorothy used the Literary Sea to communicate in writing with Vania. From Vania, she learned that the treatment of non-ordinary injuries for ordinary people was typically handled by specialized departments in public hospitals, with support from both the Church and the Serenity Bureau.
Hospitals were responsible for this because non-ordinary injuries often came with other common ailments or complications that required conventional medical resources.
From there, the rest was routine for her. Using a small corpse marionette, she infiltrated the hospital, used appraisal to detect spiritual traces, and located the hidden special department. Inside, she found Anna and the others still undergoing treatment. By eavesdropping on the doctors’ conversations, she learned about the predicament they were facing.
Dorothy hadn’t expected these children to be so deeply affected by the poison and drugs, still unable to recover. She was even more surprised to learn that, despite being adopted by Viscount Field, they were now at risk of having their treatment discontinued due to a lack of funds.
“Ugh… this is going to be troublesome. If I leave them be, they’ll end up in an asylum. But if I want to help, I don’t even know where to start… Do I have to pay for their medical bills out of my own pocket?”
Dorothy frowned at the thought.
Having been in the mysticism world for some time, she knew that anything related to the mystic was absurdly expensive—medical treatment included. From what she knew, curing deep addiction to Chalice drugs required a long-term supply of Stone drugs. She had bought Stone drugs from Aldrich before and knew that just a few grams cost more than an average worker’s yearly salary.
And that wasn’t even considering the treatment for cognitive poison contamination.
Most of these seven children were severely contaminated. Completely curing them would not be easy. The total medical expenses would undoubtedly be a hefty sum, and Dorothy wasn’t even sure if her current finances could cover it.
“Hm… I need to think of a better solution.”
Resting her chin on her hand, Dorothy began silently contemplating possible solutions.
Watching the birds fly across the sky, she carefully recalled the details of the doctors’ conversation, searching for any useful clues. Before long, inspiration struck her.
“Maybe… I should try that.”
Gazing up at the sky, Dorothy murmured to herself.
As daylight faded, night descended.
Deep in the night, the non-ordinary injury treatment ward of Saint Tenet Hospital was silent. In the dimly lit corridors, tainted with the pungent scent of medicine, a dark figure carrying a gas lamp strode forward swiftly.
That figure was Dorothy. She had infiltrated the hospital’s secret ward.
Although the non-ordinary injury treatment ward was a concealed department with security measures, it wasn’t nearly as fortified as the Serenity Bureau, the Church, or the Field Manor. There were no important figures here—just unfortunate patients—so its security was comparatively weak.
Normally, the Serenity Bureau would only upgrade security here temporarily if an important case witness was admitted. Otherwise, the usual level of protection was quite lacking, mainly to prevent ordinary people from wandering in by mistake.
For an experienced infiltrator like Dorothy, getting in was effortless.
She stole a key using a small corpse marionette, lured away the guards with animal marionettes like cats and dogs, and, with the Concealment Ring on her finger, walked straight through the Illuminating Beacon at the entrance, making her way inside without difficulty.
As she hurried through the dimly lit, empty hallway, eerie sounds seeped from the tightly shut iron doors on either side—some were howling, some were banging on the doors, some were laughing maniacally.
The atmosphere resembled an asylum, making the surroundings feel eerily unsettling.
Unfazed, Dorothy pressed forward until she reached the last iron door at the end of the corridor.
She paused for a moment, then retrieved the stolen key and inserted it into the lock.
With a grating creak, the door swung open.
Raising her gas lamp, Dorothy peered inside.
A familiar, frail figure sat motionless on the bed, staring blankly ahead.
Closing the door behind her, Dorothy stepped into the room and pulled down her face mask. Looking at the girl she hadn’t seen for days, she spoke.
Anna slowly turned her head, her vacant gaze falling upon Dorothy.
She stared at her for a long moment before finally murmuring in a dull voice:
“Teacher… Mays… choss…”
“Her mental state is clearly impaired. Looks like the cognitive poison from the Song of the Lamb is still lingering…”
Observing Anna, Dorothy thought to herself. Then, she spoke again with careful seriousness.
“Anna, I’m here today to give you a lesson.”
“A lesson? Does a lamb still need to learn?”
Anna mumbled dully in response.
Dorothy replied firmly.
“Of course. Everyone needs to learn, no matter what. Listen carefully, Anna. I’m going to teach you how to pray.”
“Pray? To whom? To the Wolf?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just repeat after me, exactly as I say—just like in our previous lessons. Do you understand?”
“I understand… Like a lesson…”
“Good girl, Anna. Now, let’s begin.”
Dorothy’s eyes became serious as she opened her mouth and spoke slowly.
“Upon this boundless world…”