Since they both sensed something was amiss, Annan and Salvatore didn’t chat for long.
It was just as well... Notre Dame had to watch over his wife, and couldn’t stay out with him for a long time.
After they had eaten and drank their fill, and sent Notre Dame back, the two of them went straight to the police station.
This was a bit different from the original plan.
Originally, Salvatore didn’t intend to get involved with such troubles alongside Annan...
But what had happened in Notre Dame’s old house had left him somewhat shaken.
Without needing a shadow to urge him on, he directly followed Annan’s pace.
Because he also had some questions he wanted to ask Bishop Daryl...
"... Notre Dame? Are you talking about that tax officer?"
After listening to Annan and Salvatore’s account, Bishop Daryl’s expression became somewhat strange, "You’re saying he and his wife, who is almost pregnant, were at home... 44 Clearwater Street? His wife’s name is Meme, a pregnant woman with a bit of a temper?"
Annan’s heart stirred, and he pressed, "What’s the matter, is there a problem with this place?"
"There’s a big problem..."
After getting a confirmed answer, Bishop Daryl murmured in a low voice.
He gave Annan a glance and couldn’t help but sigh.
How does this guy always get into trouble...
After dismissing everyone else in the room, he began to speak slowly.
What the portly bishop said next sent a chill down Salvatore’s back:
"Notre Dame should be living at 12 Xiushui Street now... His new bride hasn’t even married him yet, let alone being pregnant."
The portly bishop looked at Annan and Salvatore with a strange expression and pointed at the map behind him:
"—However, if you’re talking about pregnant, then it should be Meme... That’s a nickname, her full name is Melis Nortada. But...
"She passed away due to childbirth complications two or three years ago."
Upon hearing this, Salvatore couldn’t help shuddering, his complexion turning somewhat ugly.
Annan glanced at him and asked Bishop Daryl, "Then, Grandfather Daryl—do you have any clue about this?
"Or rather, do you think it could be some False God’s ritual?"
"To my knowledge, it shouldn’t be."
Bishop Daryl quickly shook his head: "Neither the Skeleton Lord nor the Lord of Decay’s powers involve ’time’ nor ’resurrection.’ Although the Skeleton Lord has the power to make the dead move again, you two should certainly be able to tell the difference between the living dead and the living.
"Based on your description, a False God capable of achieving this effect would be either ’Faceless Poet’ or ’Bell Ringer.’ However, their incarnations and church powers are not present in the Kingdom of Noah... and they are very, very far from us.
"So, this matter should be unrelated to any deity. At the very least, it’s definitely not a conspiracy of any church."
Otherwise, we would certainly have noticed it.
His Excellence the bishop said as much.
Bishop Daryl spoke with confidence.
He locked eyes with Annan, exchanging a glance.
Then the portly bishop spoke up, asking in a low voice, "Do I need to take a look?"
Although his tone was very polite, the meaning of his words was crystal clear—
Bishop Daryl was implying that Notre Dame might have obtained a sacrificial ritual related to ’Faceless Poet’ or ’Bell Ringer.’
This was the only way to actively communicate with a False God without any "church" involvement.
Annan fell silent for a moment before shaking his head, "Let’s not rush..."
Salvatore, on the other hand, gazed at the map, frowning in deep thought.
Seeing his expression, Annan was stirred, "Do you have an idea, senior?"
"... I have a thought, Tan Juan."
With a serious look, Salvatore slowly spoke while recalling, "It seems... I’ve heard a teacher mention a certain ritual before. But it’s not related to those two False Gods, rather it’s..."
He paused, silent for a while.
Extending his hand, he silently pointed at two residences in Notre Dame.
Number 44 on Clearwater Street near the Lord’s Mansion in the western district.
Number 12 on Xiushui Street, branching into the slums of the eastern district.
If the central business avenue were seen as a mirror.
Then within the circular territory of Roth Fort... these two residences perfectly symmetrical.
Following that, Salvatore began to speak slowly.
"Tan Juan, have you ever heard the name... Michelangelo?"
Upon hearing Salvatore’s words, Annan and Bishop Daryl exchanged glances, silently saying nothing.
Meanwhile, Salvatore continued to stroke the map, measuring the land with his fingers, confirming something on the map.
He murmured, "My teacher once told me... about five years ago, a very powerful Wizard from the Winter Principality conducted a forbidden ritual. His name was Michelangelo Buonarroti, and people called him ’Eye of Lag’."
"Although he was only a Gold-rank grand wizard, many great figures who had mastered their own truths also respected Master Michelangelo."
"Because Master Michelangelo was especially adept in spells related to ’mirrors’ and ’time’ elements."
"He could turn reality into a mirror, stepping at will into a past world that is symmetric to reality, with time flowing in opposite directions, yet synchronized, and could freeze and materialize either world at any time."
"After he had frozen time, people from the past could not see him. And the attacks he made in the past would be synchronously and mirror-reflected back to reality. Therefore, older Wizards who knew of his abilities did not wish to offend him..."
At this point, Salvatore took a deep breath.
He spoke slowly, "But this master who controlled time magic encountered a major problem in the forbidden ritual five years ago and failed at the last moment... tragically perishing."
In that instant, Annan blinked.
He had an inkling of realization.
Annan looked towards the plump bishop, his voice emerging cold and clear, "When did Melis Notradom die?"
"Two years ago. To be precise, two years and six months ago, perhaps a few days more."
Bishop Daryl answered immediately.
As a Priest, one must have an excellent memory. Otherwise, one might die inexplicably without ever knowing when...
Salvatore turned his head back.
In that moment, Annan saw a fleeting glimpse of calm indifference and confident brilliance in the eyes of his always dull-seeming senior:
"— The exact date of Master Michelangelo’s death was November 30th, 1498.
"The current date is December 9th, 1503 by the new calendar.
"If we take the day Melis Notradom died in childbirth as the mirror’s reflection...
"Then the mirror image of time from five years ago is just a few days away."
Salvatore spoke slowly, "And Mr. Notradom also mentioned...
"His wife is due to give birth in a few days."