Chapter 144

July has come to an end, and the late August monsoon rains fell softly.

The flow of time is indeed mysterious, and whenever I think back to when, how, what, and why I did certain things, that period becomes a thing of the past, leaving me without any means to address it.

Right now is just like that. During the almost two months of summer vacation, I got caught up in the past and was unable to take any action.

In short, summer vacation is over. Students who went back home or remained in the dormitory to study and hone their skills have started to make their way back to school, one by one, through the drizzling monsoon rain that has begun to fall again.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen any students during the vacation, so it didn’t feel particularly special. I just needed to act as usual, just like I had for the past six months.

However, there was one minor difference…

“Ah, Professor Antorelli! Hello!”

A female student who was chatting with friends and heading towards the classroom approached me. Since she was one of my first-year A class students, I could recall her name.

“Um, good morning…!”

“Yes. Good morning, Miss Banks.”

“…”

Upon responding to her bright greeting, her smile froze in place. I casually brushed past her.

“Hey, hey… What was that? What just happened?”

“What? It… feels different…”

I could faintly hear the whispers of the students who had greeted me earlier.

What I wanted to convey as the change was precisely this. After following Chloe’s advice during the summer vacation activities in the Occult Research Club, I had tried changing how I addressed them, and they all reacted in the same way.

When behaving in an unusual manner, people are naturally intrigued. This is what I thought as I walked through the hallway of the main building.

“You’re quite popular. You must feel good about it.”

“…”

Although Sister Sofia made a teasing remark, she didn’t seem to take it too seriously. On the contrary, she appeared to be happy that the students were greeting me without hesitation.

It was a change that felt both unfamiliar and familiar in many ways. Those thoughts lingered as I entered the professor’s office and I worked alongside Sister Sofia.

– Swish…

Outside the window, the rain was still falling. Watching the drizzling rain, which was born from the late monsoon, made me feel somewhat uneasy.

‘August…’

A month that signifies the end of summer and the arrival of autumn. The rainy weather still felt sticky, muggy, and unpleasant, yet the unpleasant thoughts I recalled were not because of that.

I stared at the calendar on my desk for a long time.

Listening to the sound of raindrops hitting the window.

My eyes were fixed on “August 14th,” marked with a circle as if I had carelessly doodled it.

August 14th.

The only day in the year I was allowed to have confession.

“…”

Even as I blankly stared at the calendar, the clock’s hands continued to move stubbornly, as if to say they shouldn’t have moved forward.

“Sister Sofia.”

“Yes?”

Sister Sofia looked up. I still kept my gaze fixed on the calendar as I casually threw words her way.

“On August 14th, you don’t have to come to work.”

“August 14th…?”

Sister Sofia began to rummage through the calendar. I gently closed my eyes while still looking at the calendar.

“That day is a Monday, you know?”

“I have personal reasons and will be taking a leave of absence that day.”

“Ah….”

I couldn’t tell if she was reacting to the mention of personal reasons or to the fact that I was taking a leave.

“Understood. Then, shall I submit it to the administration in advance?”

“Please do.”

“Yes. I will take care of it.”

Since it wasn’t a day when I was conducting classes, taking a leave wouldn’t be an issue. I opened my eyes and turned over the desk calendar that was still silently standing on the table.

It seemed that I would have to meet Colonel Meijhem again soon.

‘But, before that…’

“It’s raining. Lucio.”

Standing by the window, watching Helena smile gently at me, I thought about it.

I need to see Teacher Moritz.

*

– Tap. Tap.

The sound of a pen tapping on the desk.

The rhythmic timing of that sound was extremely comforting to the patients visiting here. In fact, several patients had said so.

– Tap. Tap. Tap.

Thus, it had become a habit for Moritz, the director of the small clinic. Listening to the periodic sound of the tapping pen, Moritz closely observed the patient seated in front of him.

“Mr. Antorelli.”

“…Yes. Teacher.”

Moritz leaned back comfortably in his chair. The backrest slowly tilted back.

“The auditory hallucinations you previously didn’t hear are getting worse, and now you’re even seeing hallucinations… Am I correct in my understanding?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“Hmm…”

– Tap. Tap.

The pen that had been tapping the desk was now tapping Moritz’s side head. It was one of his habits that emerged when he immersed himself in deep thought.

“Actually, it is true that when taking the medication I prescribed last month, the worsening of symptoms may occur.”

“What do you mean by that….”

“Let’s think of it this way.”

Moritz picked up a cup filled with water. Then he took a handful of soil from a pot and poured it into the cup, placing it back down on the desk. Priest Antorelli’s gaze shifted toward it.

“…Teacher. What is this?”

“I mentioned before that the cup represents your current state, Mr. Antorelli.”

The swirling soil settled, and the water became clearer than before. That was not the main point.

“I will scrape up the soil that has settled at the bottom with a spoon.”

Moritz inserted a spoon he retrieved from the drawer into the cup. The metal spoon sank heavily into the slightly murky water.

Priest Antorelli silently observed this scene. There was something slightly strange about his eyes, which seemed to glimmer as if he was pinning his hopes on something vague. Moritz continued to silently scoop up the soil.

“How does it look?”

“…The water has mixed a bit. And, this is too…”

“You scooped only the finer soils. The small stones that are heavier and settled at the bottom remain under there.”

Moritz placed the soil back into the cup. The water that had calmed down once again swirled with soil particles and became murky.

As if additionally supporting that notion, Moritz poured the water from the cup back into the pot and returned to his seat.

“Now, the medication you’re taking, Mr. Antorelli, feels like that.”

“That is….”

“Yes. A small amount of water was expelled while scooping up the soil.”

Despite explaining while seated, Moritz took the most relaxed posture possible. He was careful in his actions to prevent the patient in front of him from feeling tense.

“I mentioned before that the water represents your unstable mind, Mr. Antorelli. Do you remember?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“To scoop up the soil settled deep in that water, a certain amount of water must inevitably be scraped away. This is the principle behind expectoration.”

The space between Priest Antorelli’s eyebrows tightened. Was there some unpleasant memory related to expectoration that lingered within him?

“Has something happened?”

“My sub-priest saw that and made a brief misunderstanding…”

“…I hope you clarified that well. Such a sight is easily misinterpreted.”

“It has been resolved… Perhaps.”

It’s better to refrain from showing such sights to those around, but it was hard to believe that Priest Antorelli would do so intentionally.

He probably couldn’t hide it when he suddenly coughed up blood. Moritz continued, having somewhat guessed the situation.

“Anyway, Mr. Antorelli. The reason the symptoms become more severe as you take your medication and expel the waste through expectoration is due to the fact that the smallest wastes are slowly being expelled.”

“Ah….”

“From now on, slightly larger wastes will be expelled. The weak narcotic components remaining in those larger wastes affect you in that way. However….”

Moritz trailed off. According to his explanation until now, it would make some sense that the symptoms were becoming a bit more serious.

“However, it’s strange for it to worsen suddenly like this.”

After hearing Moritz’s raised question, Priest Antorelli fell silent. Moritz thought it was time to hear the reason.

“Mr. Antorelli. What do you think the reason might be?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“No. Mr. Antorelli.”

Moritz straightened his previously reclined body. The backrest adjusted to narrow to fit his movements.

“Right now, you told me you don’t know, but it seems you already know the reason, Mr. Antorelli.”

“…”

“Mr. Antorelli. I have dedicated my life to ensuring the stability and treatment of my patients.”

Moritz placed the pen down on the desk. The sound of rolling pencil in sync made the body of Priest Antorelli flinch.

“Mr. Antorelli. I want to help.”

“…”

“The most unfortunate people in the world are those who allow their misfortune to fester.”

He could have taken some action. Yet, he did nothing.

No, he was unable to act. There is a distinctly different meaning between ‘it cannot be done’ and ‘it will not be done.’

The reasoning derived from the ‘it cannot be done’ possibility originates from evaluating only the realistic probabilities and the conclusions drawn. When one considers not just the ultimate reasoning but also the underlying rejections hidden within, it leads to the belief of ‘it will not be done.’ Fundamentally, they are different. They cannot dare to be the same.

From this perspective, Professor Antorelli belonged to those for whom ‘it will not be done’ applied. A person with such a mindset cannot succeed at anything.

Moritz felt regret for Antorelli’s attitude. This wasn’t merely an emotion stemming from the relationship of doctor to patient but rather a deep feeling from person to person.

“I want to help you, Mr. Antorelli. That’s all.”

“…”

“So, will you not tell me now?”

Priest Antorelli hesitated, fidgeting with his fingers, delaying his response. The longer he pushed away that approaching moment, the more uncertain the aftershocks could be.

No, he was doing it knowing very well. There was no choice for him. He belonged to those who would say ‘it will not be done.’

“…Teacher.”

“Yes. I’m listening.”

“In a few days, it will be Helena’s memorial.”

Moritz held his breath. The very fact that such a name came from Priest Antorelli’s lips indicated the gravity of the matter. Priest Antorelli spoke.

“Perhaps, that’s why. My symptoms are getting progressively worse…”

“…Mr. Antorelli. I hesitate to say this, but during such difficult times, you must endure. There is no further assistance I can offer.”

“I understand. I know that, but….”

That it is too harsh.

Priest Antorelli… No, the final words of ‘human’ Lucio Antorelli were eventually swallowed back, sinking into his inner self. Slowly, very deeply, they sank.

With that deep sigh flowing beneath the cerulean surface, it settled down, slowly.

Moritz’s thoughts became increasingly tangled to the extent that he longed to smoke a cigarette.

‘In the end…’

There was only one thing that Priest Antorelli could do.

To face directly against the current that was sinking him beneath the surface.

That conclusion remained unchanged even until the end of the examination.

Because, he wouldn’t be able to.

Priest Antorelli was still that kind of person.