Chapter 27: The Choice

"Philosopher's Stone...."

Mel 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 me?"

She asked.

"I'm only in the Stress Phase. Even if you drained all my Quintessence, it would probably be hard to even become 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 moment 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 member 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 some 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 come and collect the debt from you."

Mel 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 moment.

"But I had no choice at the time."

"Choice?"

The white dove lightly shook its feathers.

Moonlight streamed through the window and fell on its body.

"Many times, 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 come 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 time, right?"

Hearing this, Mel 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 Department will place you under protective surveillance."

Seeing that Mel didn't speak, the white dove spoke up on its own accord.

"Of course, we are already investigating the movements 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 mention a fanatical cult like the Omniscience Society. With Oliver there, you'll be fine."

"I understand."

After a long silence, Mel replied softly.

"So, from now on—"

"No, you don't need to put me under protective surveillance."

Mel shook her head.

Hearing this, the white dove paused slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mel nodded, looking up to meet 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.

Mel 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 Mel's chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.

She mechanically scooped up a spoonful of the thick soup and ate it with the bread.

The temperature and rich flavor of the soup bloomed on her tongue, but it couldn't bring the usual pleasure.

Mel 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.

Mel mechanically 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 Mel 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 home!"

Veronica's voice rushed in with the night wind.

The smell of mothballs from her librarian's uniform entered the kitchen before she did.

"Someone anonymously dropped off several stacks of ancient books today. It took me a long time just to sort them out. Tonight, I might have to—Mel, 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...."

Mel 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."

Mel 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 Mel's busy figure in the kitchen.

Mel 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?"

Mel sprinkled some chopped parsley into the pot.

The rising steam blurred her vision.

"Hmm... ' Illustrated Guide to Ancient Farm Implements,' 'Astrology and Grain Growing Cycles.' They're all some strange books."

Veronica stacked the ancient books in the corner of the dining table.

The gold powder that rubbed off the parchment covers glittered in the twilight.

"And these books have a strange smell on them—"

She suddenly leaned close to Mel and gently hugged her.

"It's the same smell you're smelling right now."

Mel paused slightly, then subconsciously sniffed.

Deep within the scent of mothballs and old paper pulp, a metallic, fishy smell lingered in her nose, similar to rusty nails soaked in rainwater.

It was nauseating.

"It smells bad, right?"

Veronica released Mel and turned to get the cutlery.

"The manager said it might be some kind of printing dye that has deteriorated over time, but I always feel that...."

"Maybe it will be fine after airing for a few days."

Mel said, then poured the re-boiled thick soup back into the bowl.

"Okay, dinner is ready."

"Yay"

Veronica happily returned to her seat.

Mel sat across from her, and the two of them exchanged their trivial daily routines in the deepening night.

Mel 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 Mel 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 Improvement 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 came 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 time to rest, big sister."

Mel 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 metal 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 smell of the ink really..."

Veronica suddenly frowned and pressed her temple.

Seeing this, Mel reached out and took the book.

The next moment 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 farmer's hand, slowly staining the words "104th Year, Fourth Edition" below.

"Sorry...."

Mel 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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