Chapter 484

“You realize that what you said to me earlier contradicts what you’re saying now.”

After staring at Gabriele’s face for a long while, I finally spoke.

“You tell me that I shouldn’t believe, and yet I must believe in the end. You said that anyone who tells me not to believe is akin to Satan, and yet you’re the one telling me not to believe anything.”

Yet there didn’t seem to be even the slightest wish in his words for me to go astray. He had compared himself to Satan, but I suspected that comparison came from the strictness he held himself to. From my perspective as a third party, it would have been more fitting to compare him not to Satan, but to a Christian walking along the broad path. In other words, he knew that what he was saying was futile.

I looked into Gabriele’s steady eyes. His expression remained solemn, yet he spoke as calmly as though the subject were of no great importance.

“If I were you, I would have said the same thing, brother. If reason and compassion always ran in the same direction, there would have been no need to distinguish between them in the first place. I firmly believe that the invention of compassion was the first fire that allowed humanity to remain human, and the last fixed star that kept mankind from losing hope even in the darkness that came when we repeatedly forgot what it meant to be human. And I know that you will turn toward faith regardless of whatever advice you receive. But sometimes there are things one cannot bear not to say, even when one knows those words will never reach the other person. Let me make it clear that this is not merely an excuse to ease my guilt or lessen my responsibility.”

Gabriele’s claim that the invention of compassion, rather than compassion itself, was humanity’s compass explained the faith tinged with disillusionment he had shown toward Narke. He was more aggressive and skeptical than anyone, but that attitude was itself proof of his faith. More than anyone, he wanted to believe in humanity.

“Much has already become twisted and strayed from the natural order. It is not solely because of you. You merely suffered grievously in the process of things becoming twisted. It did not happen because of you alone. The first cause lies elsewhere. Though I find myself wondering if I am only needlessly telling you what you are about to learn anyway…”

The thought that I had suffered in the process of things becoming twisted made my head ache. He was talking about the end of the summer of 1897, when I had been dragged into this place—or at least, that was how it felt to me even if he wasn’t.

As if entranced, I asked, “What’s the cause?”

“…That is why I cannot bring myself to face you. Your life was taken from you, and there is nothing that can make up for that. Even if people who can understand your pace and the direction you were headed in have only now appeared, and can finally quench the thirst that has gnawed at you all your life, you will not return. Sometimes, I think about the fact that you even lost your name…”

He looked at my face and slowly fell silent. One second. Two. Three. Silence stretched between us. Then he changed the subject.

“If you choose not to believe and give up, you will be at peace. But the only one that will find peace is the you who has become who you are today by passing through this time. Everything else will return to how it was.”

For some reason, at that moment, I remembered what he had said after knocking me down during the Pentathlon. I knew nothing, but I could tell that I was getting closer and closer to the heart of it all. Even as I swam through the heart of it, I would probably never know what the truth was. How much farther was there to go before I reached the end of it?

I became certain that this was the reason I had come here. That had to be why my Change Probability was climbing toward one hundred percent.

I gathered my thoughts and asked, “There’s something I’m curious about. What is your relationship with Narke? Why did you speak about his ability that way?”

“I know that your curiosity has been building for a long time, and that you have been exercising considerable restraint. You want to calmly uncover your friend’s secrets without crossing the line into rudeness. I know you have several predictions about the future already in mind.”

“You know me well.”

“But it would go against the natural order for me to tell you everything. I also made a promise to him, but if I tell you too much, I may end up turning everything around and unraveling and reweaving the entire fabric from my end.”

“Why do you react that way whenever Narke comes up?”

“My reaction is not an overreaction. It is simply the truth. And even aside from him, there are many things I cannot answer. For example, if you were to ask me about the Roman Senate, the Pythia of Delphi, the Bishop of Osnabrück, or the Crown Prince of Prussia, I would tell you nothing. Not because I intend to sell you information at an exorbitant price, but because the time is not right and knowing those things would do you harm. There are also things I do not know.”

Gabriele spoke with the same unconcerned attitude as before. I pressed the tips of my fingers together, thinking that he was like a retaining wall made of iron.

“…Then can you answer this? There’s a theory called the many-worlds interpretation. To put it simply, it’s the theory that the world has branched off at every moment, and continues to do so even now. Is that true?”

“That is a meaningless question. If we cannot see these other worlds that have branched off, what purpose is there in speculating about them? God, who is omniscient, may know every possibility that never came to bloom upon the earth, and the history of every grain of sand swept away by passing waves. God knows how many ridges there were on the iridescent back of a lizard that lived along the equator in the Precambrian era, and how many times those ridges were shed and formed anew. God may even know how many young leaves that olive tree outside the window will grow over its lifetime, and how many fallen leaves it will shed. Yet God shows us the color of the lizard’s back and the fact that the tips of that olive tree’s roots are drying out, but He does not tell us exactly how many ridges there are, or on what day those dried-out root tips will cease to draw nutrients from the earth.”

I blinked as I listened to this Christian’s view of the universe. Gabriele continued.

“In the end, what matters is which world God is looking upon, and which world He chooses to show us.”

“…….”

“God is looking down upon this world now. Through His omniscience, He may be able to see other times and places, but God’s love and grace reside here. A different time and place untouched by God’s love is no different from not existing at all. God rules over Chronos¹, so without His grace, it is the same as Him not permitting time in that world to flow. He has only permitted us to perceive time linearly. But if God’s grace reaches another world, only then does that world become a world in which we can say exists.”

“I think I understand.”

“No. You still understand nothing, brother.”

“That’s harsh.”

I whispered as I pressed my palm against my left eye, pierced by the blazing sunlight. Gabriele looked at me with an expression of pity, as though looking upon someone who had yet to be reborn.

“One day, you will fully understand what I mean.”

“I understand some of it already. Why, then? Was my indifference the key?”

I waited three seconds in the silence.

“I suppose I hit the correct answer.”

One, two, three. I spoke again.

“So in the end, I had to be empty. That was the premise, wasn’t it?”

Again. I tried to keep my composure.

“Every time I get close to the correct answer, you close your mouth.”

“Think whatever you like.”

Only then did Gabriele answer.

“If not, then why won’t you answer me?”

“I don’t know how much of my guilt I should explain.”

“If you have done nothing wrong, then you have no reason to feel guilty toward me.”

“Even so, is it not only human to feel compassion?”

“I learned for the first time today that I’m someone who deserves compassion.”

It was a different sensation from being seen through. It felt as though thick, viscous air were pouring down over my body. I realized that my arms and hands had tensed without me noticing and slowly relaxed them.

“I know I’m overstepping. Please forgive me.”

“No. It is hardly serious enough to warrant forgiveness.”

At that, Gabriele made a small inward motion with his interlaced hands, the way he usually did when shrugging his shoulders. I stared at his snow-white hands and murmured, “There’s something I read a long time ago… This is one of them. See if you can figure out what it means. ut nihil non iisdem verbis redderetur auditum.”

“It’s Latin. ‘Nothing that is heard can be repeated in the same words.’”

“And?”

“I’m not sure. That is all.”

After answering, Gabriele calmly looked into my eyes and said, “That sentence doesn’t appear in the Natural History.”

I knew he had used Insight. I had been thinking of Book 2, Chapter 7, Section 24 of the Natural History, so he was right. So far, at least. I tilted my head, waiting for what came next.

“Then?”

“I’m not sure.”

“…All right.”

“You were testing me.”

I nodded. Even when speaking to someone who made himself difficult to understand, I could still get through by asking equally difficult questions. I had wondered if he might be put on the spot, but there wasn’t a trace of confusion on his face. Perhaps realizing what I had been thinking, he looked away and said, “…What matters is that something that doesn’t look like it is, in fact, exactly that.”

“You’ve said that enough times that I won’t forget. More importantly, how are you going to help us now?”

Whatever I asked, he either answered from his religious worldview or didn’t answer at all. If hearing his answer would only make things more complicated, I had no intention of hearing it either. And if the matter was important enough, he wouldn’t be able to answer no matter what I asked in the first place. Gabriele muttered as if speaking to himself, “An Orsini traitor, is it? I won’t go meet the Roman nobles myself. I cannot.”

“I figured as much. Then before that, could you discuss it with my friends?”

Gabriele gave the doorway a sharp, displeased look before taking on the appearance of Duke Caetani of Rome. He shook the bell on the table, and a servant entered from outside. Without the slightest trace of awkwardness, Gabriele imitated the middle-aged master of the house.

“Bring the guests in the drawing room here. But do not go inside. Just knock on the door and tell them to come. Then gather all the servants on this floor and have them stay on another floor. Once the guests come here, they can move.”

“Yes, understood.”

I had never heard such a suspicious order before. Yet despite how suspicious the request sounded to anyone who heard it, the servant showed no sign of questioning it and left. A little while later, Narke and Elias entered the room. Since the servants had still been in the hallway, Narke hadn’t had a chance to properly clean the blood off yet. He looked at us calmly.

Considering how worried he had been that I might hear some nonsense from Gabriele, he could have used Insight to check, but he didn’t bother. He simply looked away and sat down on the sofa. Gabriele immediately began speaking.

“It would be better for you to meet the Orsini in person, but do you have the time to do so?”

“I’m on leave at least until the end of this week, so I have plenty of time. If things go well, I might even take next week off.”

“Good. When you meet an important member of a noble house, they will conduct a very thorough inspection. This time, they seem to have thoroughly checked all the bottled water and food ingredients purchased by each family’s kitchen.”

It must have been because of Atropos. I wondered what they thought about the possibility of it spreading through insects. Still, this was hardly the time for us to worry about Rome when divine power mages were practically everywhere here. They were probably purifying the city every hour as it was.

Without even looking toward Narke, Gabriele continued.

“But since he’s bleeding, it would be best if he didn’t approach anyone directly until the wound has completely healed. I don’t know whether he can still control his mana properly, as he used to. No matter what he stole from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, he can’t prevent mana from leaking out of his body through the blood. If anyone were to find out that Farnese had returned, Rome would come to a standstill.”

I looked at Narke. He showed no reaction—at least, he didn’t twist his shoulders, tap his fingertips against the armrest, or furrow his brow—but the muscles in his face still carried a certain tension. Even when he smiled, it was the same. He seemed more uncomfortable with Gabriele telling me this than with the strange prospect of Rome coming to a standstill.

Elias seemed displeased for a different reason. He gestured toward Gabriele as he demanded, “Then why did you make him bleed in the first place?”

He doesn’t ask why Gabriele attacked someone who was both family and a friend. Elias himself was capable of attacking family if the circumstances called for it, so that was probably why. Instead, he only asks why Gabriele did it when he knew how troublesome it would be to draw blood after they had gone to such lengths to sneak into Rome. Gabriele answered in a completely matter-of-fact tone, his expression giving nothing away.

“Who knew he’d be that weak?”

“…….”

Elias stared at Gabriele and me with an incredulous look. If Narke was weak, then Elias and I were hardly any better—if anything, we were weaker still. Judging by everything Gabriele had said so far, he simply hadn’t expected Narke to have become so much weaker.

“Say something that actually makes sense…”

Even as Elias muttered that, Narke didn’t argue. He simply kept looking straight ahead. He seemed determined not to respond, regardless of whether Gabriele’s words were true.

“One of the Orsini cardinals is the prefect of the Sacred Congregation of Rites. His name is Fabiola Orsini. Are you aware of him?”

“I am.”

One of the two Orsini cardinals was a prefect—the head of the Sacred Congregation of Rites. That meant he was someone of considerable standing even among the College of Cardinals. Just thinking about it was already suffocating. Then, as I thought about it, a chill ran through me. Wasn’t the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith sitting right beside me? Fabiola Orsini, though he naturally handled different affairs, was on the same level as Narke in terms of rank.

“You know that since Urban VIII, the authority to beatify and canonize has belonged entirely to the Papal See. Once the Sacred Congregation of Rites submits the materials it has compiled and its decision to His Holiness, he recognizes the candidate for beatification or canonization as Blessed or a Saint. Here are the letters exchanged between the Caetani of Rome and the Papal See. A month ago, they exchanged letters with the Sacred Congregation of Rites requesting that a Caetani cardinal who died several years ago be recognized as Blessed. The Congregation has yet to give them a definitive answer.”

“Then we could meet the Orsini cardinal to discuss the beatification. But to meet him, wouldn’t we have to mention the name of Duke Caetani? You just told me you wouldn’t meet the Roman nobles. Does that mean we can use the family seal anyway?”

“If possible, I would rather you didn’t. I’m only giving you your options. The other Orsini cardinal is a member of the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life. He isn’t its prefect or secretary, but he belongs to it. Since it’s a congregation dealing with religious orders, you may have an easier time approaching him. Unfortunately, he isn’t a Jesuit, so you will have to come up with another excuse.”

Despite the fact that we were dressed as servants—though even in our own clothes, none of us were dressed in a way that would make us look like Jesuits—Gabriele had figured out exactly what lie we had told to get inside.

“And the Orsini priest belongs to Santa Croce. If you go to this church at the right time, you should have no trouble meeting a priest named Matteo Orsini.”

“Then…”

There was no point in going through all this just to send a letter to the Orsini family. Wouldn’t it be easier to go to Santa Croce in the first place? As if he had read my thoughts, Gabriele spoke.

“But Farnese won’t be pleased.”

“Why?”

“Because Matteo Orsini is particularly attached to Farnese. He will recognize him immediately.”

Only then did Narke show any visible sign of discomfort. He narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at Gabriele with a tired expression. It seemed like he wanted Gabriele to stop talking, and, yes, Gabriele had just said something I never could have guessed.

So Matteo Orsini wouldn’t be fooled by the appearance Narke had wrapped himself in with divine power? No. It went beyond simply seeing through it—he would recognize that Narke himself was the one using the illusion magic. Unlike the two cardinals, the priest had only just entered his twenties. Since they were around the same age, perhaps he had spent a long time interacting with Narke, much like Simone Savelli had.

Feeling a little uneasy, I asked, “Is he someone like Lord Simone Savelli?”

“You know him, then. He is one of the better ones, isn’t he?”

As the conversation continued to revolve around Narke, Gabriele spoke in a toneless voice, sounding faintly bothered.

So Matteo Orsini was even more intense with Narke than Simone Savelli was. Why did they have to be like that? I was curious about the reason, but trying to find out would only hurt Narke. I rubbed my chin and muttered, “That sounds awful. Then let’s leave Matteo Orsini out and make a plan around the other two.”

Translator Note

1. Chronos is the primeval god and personification of time, distinct from the Titan Cronus. ↩︎