The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 326

In fact, Sigrid was the only person with whom she could be considered close.

Although she maintained a great deal of enthusiasm for every visitor to Fog Street.

What's rather unusual is that Tinuvel could sense a certain "similarity" between them. Both were constructed of inorganic matter, clad in biomimetic bodies, and maintained their movements by a furnace core buried deep in their chests.

As for the differences, they naturally exist.

The body she is currently using is a mystical puppet of the White Cup Order, while Sigrid is a conceptual fragment of the sun, an abstract celestial body... Of course, these are differences on an external level.

The real difference between the two perhaps lies in the intangible and illusory things like the soul and thought.

Sigrid had experienced intense, almost mind-wrenching, self-doubt, but after receiving reassuring treatment from a doctor, she was no longer shaken by it. Perhaps she also realized that she had, in essence, transcended the realm of humanity…

But she no longer cares, and she won't change her self-perception because of it.

Tinuvel observed Sigrid quietly, like a finely crafted plaster statue. She had been captured by the gravity of a wrecked spaceship, trapped in chaos and darkness for countless years, so much so that even a moment of trance felt incredibly long to the outside world.

She didn't end her meditation until Sigrid turned around and saw her.

"Ms. Tinuville, would you like to have a seat?"

Sigrid showed no emotion at the other person's gaze, but instead extended an invitation with great enthusiasm.

"it is good."

Tinuvel nodded in agreement.

Daylight filtered through the perpetual haze of fog in the streets, bringing a sensation called "warmth" to the bionic sensors on her skin. Quiet, peaceful, the murmurs and frantic chatter in her ears seemed to have vanished completely, and the past scenes in the database seemed like nothing more than a deep dream.

For a fleeting moment, she truly understood...

Why do the "humans" of their own homeland, even living such agonizing and painful lives, still yearn for daylight? Even a fleeting moment of tranquility is enough to enchant them, briefly casting aside the shadow of death.

……

After completing her routine sunbathing, Sigrid rose from the bench with a relaxed expression and glanced discreetly at Fran, who was sitting on the sofa.

The doctor was holding an ancient-style scroll and examining it carefully. He looked quite serious and was even wearing silver-rimmed round glasses, which he usually only wore when teaching others. He would occasionally extend his ring finger to gently push the bridge of his nose.

After a brief preparation, Sigrid brewed a pot of tea and then brought it to Fran.

“Dr. Fran, although there are still plenty of 'winter buds' left in Mordway, I think you would like to try the new season ginger tea from Norlington’s Portuguese Moon.”

"Um, thank you very much."

Fran took the rose-patterned porcelain teacup, then brought it to her lips and lightly extended the tip of her tongue to test the temperature. Sigrid's tea was always slightly hot, but now that the air was beginning to cool, the temperature was just right.

The raw materials she purchased this time were mature old ginger. Although there was no problem with the quality, the spiciness was a bit too high.

Fran didn't dislike the taste.

But to improve the palatability, she discreetly dropped a sugar cube into the cup and then gently stirred it with a thin silver spoon. After drinking about half a cup, she removed her round-framed glasses, which were now covered in a thick steam.

"A very familiar taste."

After a moment's recollection, Fran remembered the source of this sense of familiarity.

Last year, in the Tower of the Suncast, she fed Sigrid ginger tea made using this method to soothe her mental state. However, her own version was much stronger, containing ginger, sansho pepper, and other spices… enough to deliver a powerful, soul-stirring experience to the average person's taste buds.

"Dr. Fran, what are you looking at?"

Sigrid moved closer to Fran, then carefully sat down beside her.

She had noticed the slightly unusual parchment scroll earlier, but only now had she had the chance to ask about it. Fran, resting her cheek on her hand and occasionally taking a sip of ginger tea, offered a gentle explanation.

“A small gift from two saints of the Ant Scale Gate, marked with a deep secret realm of Philanes.”

"François?"

Upon hearing about this country, a hint of interest gleamed in Sigrid's molten gold eyes. Most Norrington residents had heard of Philanath... but historical documents related to it were extremely scarce, and even deliberate searches yielded only fragmentary glimpses.

Seeing that the craftswoman seemed quite concerned about this, Fran put his round-framed glasses back on and began to explain.

"Based on current available documents and geographical information, I believe you, Sigrid, should know... Norlington is located within the borders of the Kingdom of Ferranes, but there is currently no subordinate relationship between the two. Furthermore, there is no political interaction of any kind."

"Yes." 7

Sigrid nodded obediently, then maintained her eager gaze, awaiting Fran's further narration.

"From a common-sense perspective, this is illogical. Almost no normal country would tolerate an 'enclave' that doesn't belong to it within its own territory; there would at least be a nominal affiliation, or deeper political and economic considerations." —Liu

"Otherwise, how would it be different from a state within a state?"

Hearing Fran's words, Sigrid began to ponder the question more deeply, and a sense of confusion arose within her. Tinuville, seemingly drawn by the topic as well, silently stepped into the center of the hall.

"Two possibilities."

After searching and analyzing the database, Tinuville made a very succinct guess. II.

"First, Philanes is in an abnormal state. War, political turmoil, economic collapse, or other special factors can all prevent a country from taking care of an independent city-state within its borders."

"Secondly, Norrington possesses a certain peculiarity. Perhaps the city holds a transcendent position in both military and religious matters, to the point that Ferranes was forced to tolerate the existence of this 'sand in his eyes'."

Her logic is not complicated.

If an unconventional outcome has occurred, then there must also be abnormal "variables" among the factors that contributed to this situation.

"That's right, the idea is obvious."

Fran maintained his smile, agreeing with Tinuvel's guess.

"The truth is, both possibilities mentioned by Ms. Tinuville exist. The current relationship between Ferranes and Norrington is the result of the combined effect of these two factors... It may sound complicated, but the reality is actually ridiculously simple."

"During the Pure White Era, Norrington was the capital of Philanes."

"And a thousand years later... Philanes could no longer be called a country, but was just an empty shell. Most of its territory was torn apart by the black wasteland, the great forerunners it revered had fallen into eternal slumber, and the once complete cult structure had been completely destroyed at the end of the era."

After saying this, the doctor drank the last sip of ginger tea, and his slightly cold fingers warmed up a little.

Sigrid, who had been listening attentively the whole time, showed a hint of realization on her face.

If Dr. Fran hadn't brought it up, she probably would never have thought to learn about this secret. However, after the old questions were answered, new ones followed in quick succession; there were still some things she didn't understand.

"Historical information concerning a nation should never be concealed under any circumstances. Why are there so few records about Philanes now? I have never seen any written descriptions of Philanes in the library of the Tower of the Sun..."

Fran, seemingly having anticipated Sigrid's question, answered calmly and fluently.

"Under normal circumstances, that would indeed be the case."

"Just like the news of the war between Loreton and Attilion, which was officially announced the day before, the pre-war declarations from both sides would be on the front page of the Norrington Morning Post the next day. What makes Philanes special is that... the god who controls oblivion sleeps there. So much so that the descriptions of the entire kingdom in the pages of history books fade rapidly, like ink fading."

"It's a subtle influence; people usually accept its existence but naturally ignore it. Even written words can be quietly erased at some point."

At this point, some memories also surfaced in Fran's mind.

On the day the Great Plague ended, Grantham was able to forcibly enter the Dream of the Decaying Crown with the unfinished First-Class Ritual, [The Dream of Chernes], primarily because Norrington was located within the Realm of Philanes, and the Pure White Cup was able to respond proactively. (Nine)

And it was through this faint sign of awakening that He was able to mitigate the effects of the Great Plague and erase Viola's name.

"From the Pure White Era to the beginning of the millennium, more than six thousand years have passed. Hasn't Philanes formed a new ruling group?"

Tinuville was quite concerned about this. 彡

Based on this ship AI's experience, even a once-unified nation deeply divided will spontaneously exhibit a tendency towards mutual assimilation and integration. Given that the cycle of change in leadership is only about three hundred years, why does Philanes seem to remain unchanged? (Ryukyu)

"I don't know much about this either."

Fran touched his lower lip with his index finger, a hint of regret in his eyes.

The doctor's knowledge of Ferranes stemmed from a field visit, but that experience predated the pandemic and was somewhat lost after her own internal conflict. Therefore, she couldn't offer a definitive conclusion, but could only infer from the known facts.

"However, the reason why Philanes was unable to return to its wholeness should be related to the influence of the 'Fragments of the Standard'. The divine constructs that once hung high in the heavens were scattered across the land, causing chaos, division and isolation."

"This is also the origin of the name 'Fragmented Kingdom'."

Fran had now said everything she knew, and the topic was no longer worth discussing. However, she didn't seem to intend to let Sigrid go to work; instead, she took Sigrid's hand and kept her by her side.

In late autumn, as the temperature cools down, having the craftswoman around would greatly alleviate the problem of cold fingers while reading, so she absolutely cannot be let go easily. At least until the entire main hall reaches a warm and dry state.

Sigrid seemed unaware of this, simply leaning against the back of the velvet sofa and obediently moving herself closer to the doctor.

-

The Hunters of Secrets, Secret Courtroom.

The White Cup Order's interrogation rooms are always bright and clean, almost resembling a reception room. The places where the Hunters interrogate and judge criminals, however, truly conform to, and even surpass, common stereotypes about such places.

Instruments of torture, prayers, iron chairs, cramped and dim lighting, dried and congealed bloodstains, and a cold, chilling metallic scent in the air. The moment you step inside, a sense of unease naturally arises from the depths of your heart.

Clapham, the leader of the "Winter Fang" squad, was strapped to a metal chair. His head slumped, his expression blank. He resembled a soulless, spineless corpse, the only difference being that he hadn't yet begun to rot.

Sitting opposite Ling was Silver Feather Hydra, with striking makeup, flowing red hair, and a grey detective coat.

Lin Weiweian, holding Mu Ning, stood behind the confidential supervisor, not appearing reserved at all, seemingly quite familiar with this task. She was probably more concerned with when she could leave work than what information the mortal would reveal.

"Long time no see, Clapham."

Unlike her treatment of other prisoners, Liu Yinyu did not immediately intimidate them, nor did she adopt the cold attitude of a hunter from the Funeral Court Outer Path. She simply offered a calm greeting, as if exchanging pleasantries with an old friend, or perhaps saying goodbye.

"..."

A faint, gurgling sound came from Ikrapon's throat, but there was no other reaction.

But the silver-feathered hydra clearly didn't care about this, and just kept sighing to itself.

3. "I remember you used to be a strong man. Although you weren't exactly handsome, your well-trained muscles at least met the Funeral Court's usual aesthetic standards. How did you end up like this after spending a few years in the Northern Kingdom?"

"Is it really true that middle-age weight gain is inevitable? However, Alvin, Black Rong, and Bartley all maintain their figures very well."

During the conversation, she took out a pack of "White Leaf Rose" women's cigarettes from her breast pocket, lit it, and took a light puff. A moment later, white smoke with a floral flavor escaped from her glossy red lips.

"Clapham, you'd better stop this charade of feigning madness. I've already obtained the medical report from the medical tribunal; you're only physically paralyzed, your mind and speech are unaffected. Or perhaps my tone is too mild, and you prefer a different approach?"

Clapham had worked at the Funeral Court and was extremely familiar with the torture methods of the Hunters; they knew each other inside and out.

That's why the silver-feathered hydra didn't immediately start following the fixed procedure.

"I have nothing to say."

Clapham's fat face twitched, and he then uttered a few words with difficulty.

“I died on the day of the Northern Rebellion, so I have no regrets about living these extra years. I have witnessed all the methods of the Secret Service... Not only that, I have also personally experienced even more cruelty from the Northerners.”

"There's no need for futile attempts, just execute me."

Upon hearing this, the silver-feathered hydra pursed its lips, seemingly somewhat troubled.

"Sigh, my clothes are brand new, it wouldn't be good if they got stained with blood... But since you said 'there's no need to make pointless attempts,' then I have to be pragmatic and test your quality."

As she spoke, she took out an instrument case from the inner pocket of her coat and began to carefully select instruments, occasionally taking one out and placing it aside.

These include tooth extraction forceps, steel chisels, scrapers, wire brushes, and others.

Silver Hydra randomly picked up a tool from among the many instruments and then walked toward Clapham.

“I know you only have sensation in your head, but I think that even so… your mental defenses should be able to be broken down, as long as you have a little more patience.”

The fragrance lingering around her was faint and serene, retaining only the most basic base notes.

"And if you're willing to cooperate and answer some minor questions about the Saffovo Council, I don't mind giving you some preferential treatment. For example, a painless, clean death, and your head not having to be put in a skull exhibition hall for people to see."

"you……"

Looking at the small, intricate instrument so close to him, Clapham hesitated for a moment before finally lowering his head, revealing a look of weakness and dejection.

“I agree to your terms, Silver Feather Hydra.”

“Very good, this is your reward.”

Silver Hydra revealed a radiant smile, then took out a new "White Leaf Rose," lit it with a kerosene lighter, and placed it into Clapham's mouth.

“I remember you liked the David Hayden brand; it’s cheap, strong, and easy to buy. But I hate the overly strong tobacco flavor, so this will have to do.”

She had no pity for her former colleague, but if he was willing to cooperate, she wouldn't mind giving him some face.

-

-

soup!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Mad Thoughts Ignite

The Hunters' Order, the Suspended Blade Training Ground.

In a spacious, secluded training room, Heda was instructing Bebeza on pre-coital warm-ups, gradually activating her previously relaxed muscles and organs. Although the nun herself didn't know if this process was truly necessary for saber-toothed creatures…

However, she still taught him according to her own training habits.