Chapter 365: The Child Who Shared Secrets

Agatha had been aware for quite some time that Bishop Ivan’s life was gradually drawing to a close. Underneath the layers of firmly bound bandages that covered him, his body was practically skeletal, with very little flesh remaining. What allowed him to remain standing wasn’t solely the divine miracle Bartok granted but also his spirit’s sheer determination and steadfastness.

The peculiar state of the bishop’s body was a mystery to most. Even Agatha, known as the Gatekeeper of Frost, was privy only to the vague explanation that an “accident” from many years ago was responsible for his physical condition. However, the true nature of this accident was a topic Bishop Ivan carefully avoided, never openly discussing it even when she was around.

It was a secret Agatha chose not to probe into, of her own accord.

Bishop Ivan’s demeanor clearly reflected a deep sense of melancholy. He stood silent for a long while before suddenly voicing his fears, “We are on the brink of a crisis.”

“Yes, Bishop Ivan,” Agatha responded, nodding her understanding, “I will strive with all my might to expose the reality and subvert the devious plot being hatched by those with destruction in their hearts.”

“No, you don’t quite grasp the situation,” Bishop Ivan retorted, shaking his head, “The ‘truth’ of this looming crisis may be far more complex and bewildering than we can imagine, Agatha. The insidious activities of the cult members might indeed contribute to the crisis, but they certainly don’t encompass the entirety of it. I have a premonition...”

At this, Agatha’s brow furrowed slightly, “A premonition?”

“An uncanny familiarity, reminiscent of the time fifty years ago... just before the upheaval occurred, the entire city was permeated with a mood quite similar to the one now,” Ivan shared, his voice slow and thoughtful, “A city-state that on the surface appeared utterly normal, yet was teeming with bewildering, inexplicable anomalies – almost as if we were all suddenly trapped in an uncanny, indistinguishable dream. We would occasionally catch a glimpse of horrifying scenes at the dream’s fringe, but our feeble human comprehension refused to fully understand them, blinding us to the truth that was tantalizingly close... Are you experiencing that sensation? As if... the distortion is plainly in front of us, yet we stubbornly keep our eyes shut.”

“I’m not sure I follow...” Agatha expressed her uncertainty, “Are you suggesting some kind of cognitive disruption? That this disruption is clouding our judgement?”

Instead of responding to her query, Bishop Ivan, after several seconds of contemplative silence, segued into a topic that seemed completely unrelated, “Agatha, have I ever spoken to you about the ‘Last Queen’s Guard’ from half a century ago? Or about the ‘Second Waterway’ buried deep within the heart of the city-state?”

“The Second Waterway?” Agatha appeared taken aback, as a flurry of knowledge resurfaced in her mind, “I have some understanding of that. It was a part of a colossal subterranean infrastructure developed by the Frost Queen for the city-state. However, with the termination of the Queen’s reign, the unfinished structure was deserted. Due to severe structural deterioration and financial constraints, it has remained forsaken up to this day—most people aren’t even aware of its existence.”

“Yes, it remains forsaken, and only keepers of the gate like you and old relics such as myself are privy to its existence,” Bishop Ivan stated, a slight shake of his head accentuating his words.

“And what about the ‘Last Queen’s Guard’?” Agatha queried, curiosity piqued, “What prompted you to suddenly mention them?”

“The Last Queen’s Guard was a unit that exhibited fierce resilience, continuing their resistance even after the queen’s palace fell to the rebels. They utilized the city-state’s subterranean structures to stage their last stand,” Bishop Ivan’s voice was low, imbued with an unmistakable air of nostalgia, “Their final fortress was the entrance to the Second Waterway. After being overpowered, they demolished all the connecting wells and were consequently interred beneath the earth. The reason I broach this topic today... is because an old rumor from those times unexpectedly crossed my mind.”

Subsequently, even the cloudless sky seemed tainted with a veneer of artifice.

Murmuring a string of grumbles under his breath, his gaze shifted to the incline leading up to the cemetery.

The lines etched deep into the old man’s face eased momentarily, only to intensify a second later as his brows furrowed in puzzlement.

He had noticed a small figure materializing on the incline, trudging towards him with a mix of struggle and tenacity. Sensing the old man’s scrutiny, the tiny figure halted deliberately and offered a cheerful wave.

The old caretaker’s frown deepened.

He patiently waited for the individual to come closer, not saying a word until Annie had brushed the snowflakes off her trousers and boots. His voice tinged with annoyance as he finally said, “You’re back again. Yesterday was peaceful without you, I had assumed you’d finally decided to stay home. Why have you returned today?”

“I wished to visit yesterday too,” Annie replied, sticking her tongue out in tease, “However, my mother thought the roads were heavily laden with snow, and we needed to wait for the snowplows to clear the main roads before venturing out...”

Before the old man could respond, she had already presented him with a small package, “I’ve brought cookies!”

“...It seems I’ve been consuming cookies daily,” the old man cast a glance at the package in her hands, his eyelids twitching, yet he accepted the offering, “Please extend my gratitude to Mrs. Belloni.”

Annie’s face lit up with joy.

“Is there something else?” The old caretaker’s gaze swept over the girl standing before him, “The cemetery is not accepting visitors today.”

“Oh, no. I simply wished to chat with you,” Annie replied with her usual cheerfulness, “Did you know? We’ve recently had a few new guests move into our house. Can you guess who they are?”

The twelve-year-old girl was notoriously bad at keeping secrets.

“I have no interest,” the old caretaker grumbled, displaying his disinterest with an impatient wave of his hand, “It’s your home, you can lease it out to whomever you wish. Why would that concern me?”

Ignoring his reaction, Annie continued with an even brighter smile and an air of inexplicable pride, “It’s the tall man wrapped in bandages! Remember the one we saw at the cemetery gate the last time... Are you alright, Grandpa Caretaker?”