CH-089

89 Father, Why Didn't You Save Me

A clear, ethereal sound of a hand ocarina suddenly drifted from the school's academic building, as bright as a bird's first call in the morning mist, instantly piercing through the walls of classrooms and corridors.

Teachers and students alike realized simultaneously, with tacit understanding: That was Bishop Alis's sound.
This usually solemn and benevolent bishop rarely displayed this skill in public.

The only other time it had been heard by many was during an unexpected incident.

Back then, it was the seasonal festival. The Savoy diocese saw an unprecedented influx of people, especially in the church guest hall, which was nearly packed to capacity. The entire street was a sea of heads, forcing the deacons to come out and disperse the believers and visitors.

In such a bustling crowd, a small mishap could easily escalate into a riot.

At that time, a dispute and conflict had arisen in the guest hall over queue-jumping.

The heat and congestion ignited the crowd's anger.

The cries of children, startled by the commotion, only made the situation worse.

The fifteen church deacons had no choice but to raise their voices, trying to force people to calm down. Yet, their attempts at placation only made the entire scene more chaotic and noisy.

The guard troops noticed the disturbance, and the metallic clank of armor soon echoed from the street corner, adding to the people's agitation and panic.

Just as all the sounds were about to converge into a disaster, a clear, soaring sound, like daylight sweeping through a mountain forest, abruptly arose—

The bishop stood atop the church bell tower, his hands naturally cupped into the shape of an ocarina, and blew a melody lasting over forty seconds.

The sound cleansed the heart, like water rippling over a boiling iron pot.

The crowd fell silent involuntarily, instinctively stopping to listen.

Seizing the moment, Father Leighton and Sister Rita intervened, pulling out the troublemakers, and the chaos subsided instantly.

That scene, naturally, became a topic of conversation.

It was passed down by word of mouth among teachers and students, yet that sound was never reproduced.

If you missed it, you had no chance to hear it again.

One couldn't simply go before the bishop and say, 'That sounded wonderful last time; please perform it for us again.'

How impertinent that would be!
What a presumptuous disrespect—!

As it turned out, who would have thought that such an ethereal sound would appear again?

Everyone, afraid of missing the moment, rushed to the windows. But the sound was as fleeting as a night-blooming cereus, vanishing as quickly as it came, leaving only a lingering resonance of awe in the hearts of teachers and students, refusing to dissipate.

Finnian, seated by the window, had noticed the commotion as soon as Shu Li and that child appeared together in the courtyard.

He propped his chin on his hand, unconsciously twirling a pen, watching Bishop Alis expertly produce the hand ocarina's sound. He couldn't help muttering inwardly—

'Bishop Alis truly is clever sometimes, and other times... not so clever.'

For instance, right now. He clearly disliked drawing attention, usually kept a low profile, living in seclusion. Yet occasionally, on a whim, just because of a child's expectant gaze, he would casually display this skill.

It was like letting a child lead him by the nose.

Yet, precisely because of this, Finnian never felt that Alis had changed, that he hadn't been blinded by the current adulation and fame surrounding him. He was still the same young priest living earnestly in that desolate little chapel.

Finnian couldn't help but chuckle softly. He then unconsciously glanced to the other side, only to catch sight of Lesley's expression.

Lesley was sitting by the window on the opposite side, motionless, gazing intently at the bishop. His eyes were dark and deep—the emotions within were too complex, resembling reverence, yet also confusion, and perhaps a hint of unspoken dependence he dared not voice.

Finnian, looking at Lesley, couldn't help but frown slightly.

He always felt Lesley's feelings towards Bishop Alis were a bit strange.

Earlier on, he suspected Lesley was just trying to pick a fight with him, vying for the bishop's attention.

He had been quite annoyed about it several times back then.

But after four years of interaction, he gradually realized that Lesley's approach wasn't just driven by competitive spirit or curiosity about a new world. It was more like he was making a judgment, selecting someone trustworthy, an instinctive gravitation after finding a clear direction.

This approach carried caution and probing, like the process of establishing an attachment, rather than a simple desire to compete for attention.

This realization struck Finnian as incredible.

Because in Finnian's view, building a relationship with Bishop Alis was the simplest thing in the world. Just persist in being good to him—he would always feel it. Then, when bored, come chat with him a bit; if free, find him to hang out. Just don't let latecomers surpass you. That was all.

Thus, Finnian's reliance on Alis was perfectly natural.

Even if he didn't always obey verbally, he trusted him in his heart. He dared to act coy, dared to tease. He was determined to be a special child in the bishop's heart.

But Lesley was always restrained. He drew close, yet deliberately kept a distance, as if observing an existence that didn't belong to him.

It was as if he viewed Alis as some unattainable entity, harboring words in his heart yet never daring to speak them aloud;
And also as if he didn't know how to proceed, always lingering by the door, keeping Bishop Alis at arm's length, neither too close nor too far.

Sometimes one had to say, Lesley's indecisiveness was hard for Finnian to watch. He even had to subtly hint behind the scenes about things Lesley had done.

However, sometimes Lesley's actions were truly abrupt, showing no concern for Bishop Alis's feelings, as if he treated people like objects.

Recalling the morning's events, Finnian tilted his head, looking from Lesley to the bishop, thinking to himself, "…"

He wasn't going to bother with Lesley!

Anyway, as long as Bishop Alis liked him, that was enough.

This thought had just surfaced in Finnian's mind when suddenly a scream erupted from another classroom.

"Veronica has fainted!"

The class Finnian was in also descended into commotion.

Finnian glanced at the teacher, who hadn't yet reacted, and immediately raised his voice: "Maintain order! Don't run around! Be careful not to cause trouble for others."

This voice struck like a bell, quelling the entire class.

The agitation quickly subsided; no one dared leave their seat without permission.
Yet, after all, it was Veronica who had fainted—someone quite popular in school. Gazes still occasionally drifted outside the classroom, and hushed discussions inevitably began to spread.

"Teacher, please continue the lesson."
Finnian reminded the instructor, while his inner voice added: Bishop Alis must have rushed over there already.

*

Infirmary.

The person responsible for the grammar school's infirmary was Yvonne, the herbalist originally from the small Savoy town library.

Over these four years, Shu Li had wondered if there might be some opportunity for them to become better acquainted, like he had with Herens.

But perhaps because Shu Li wasn't particularly sociable by nature, and the fact remained that she was a single woman.

Whether out of polite respect or due to his personality, even with Yvonne's familial connection as Finnian's aunt, it wasn't appropriate for Shu Li to interact with her alone too frequently.

Nonetheless, compared to the initial stage of complete unfamiliarity, Yvonne and Shu Li now maintained a nodding acquaintance, and her relationship with the church sisters was somewhat closer.

"I've examined her entire body. The bleeding is currently limited to her palms and wrists," Yvonne stated directly upon seeing Shu Li. "There are no other external injuries. The fainting wasn't caused by blood loss."

As she spoke, she drew back the curtain around the sickbed, indicating Shu Li could approach to assess the situation.

Shu Li saw that Yvonne had already performed simple hemostasis.

The bandage was applied cleanly and efficiently; judging by its thickness, the injury clearly wasn't severe.

Thus, they needed to investigate the cause of the coma—was it an organic lesion or a psychogenic reaction?

Shu Li had just withdrawn his gaze from Veronica lying on the bed when he noticed Yvonne's direct stare. "You think something is off, don't you?"

Yvonne raised an eyebrow, as if having anticipated he would read her thoughts. She had been waiting nearby, hoping he would initiate the topic.

"Student Veronica has two types of wounds on her hands. One type consists of lacerations, primarily concentrated on her knuckles and the back of her hands. They appear fresh, not yet scabbed over."

"However, these are not the source of her main bleeding."

Yvonne folded her arms, her back straight like a drawn bowstring—stern, imposing.

"I examined the bleeding site. The shape resembles a crucifixion wound. The injury is deep, the edges dark purple, clearly an old wound, not the fresh skin tone of a new injury."

"Yet, strangely, if a child with old wounds like this were attending school, I would absolutely have heard about it. And if it were a new wound, how could such a state manifest in such a short time?"

"So, my first question is: What is this wound? How was it acquired?"

"My second question is—"
Yvonne spoke of 'questions,' but her voice remained cool and clear-headed, a stark contrast to her words. "I asked the students who brought her in. They had Latin class and wouldn't have encountered any sharp objects. The classmate sitting next to her could also see her movements and didn't witness any self-harm…"

"Believers do not self-harm. It's doctrinal," Shu Li explained.

Yvonne lifted her chin; that was precisely the confirmation she sought. "In my judgment, this wound bled spontaneously, not from artificial trauma."

The concept of spontaneous bleeding was unheard of to her. "Is that possible? Could it not be demonic…"

Shu Li indeed felt this had crossed into the supernatural.

Yet the existence of 'Stigmata' inherently lay beyond current medical understanding. Even in the 21st century, there was no definitive answer, only mainstream interpretations.

"…" Casca, hearing such skepticism, grew anxious. His gaze darted between Shu Li and Yvonne before he finally couldn't help interjecting, "It's not a demonic curse!"

Casca clenched his fists, struggling to control his nervousness, and said, "It's Stigmata! Just like described in the texts. Those blessed by the Lord bear marks resembling the crucifixion suffered by the Son of God."

Yvonne, who had little interest in the Church, replied coolly, "So, the Lord's blessing causes this girl to faint publicly and remain unconscious? Your Lord truly cares for her."

These words were heavy, too sharp, too sarcastic for an eleven-year-old young believer.

Casca was instantly choked up, his pleading eyes drifting back to Shu Li.

Shu Li drew Casca to his side, putting some distance between him and Yvonne.

"We can't determine exactly what the situation is right now," Shu Li said, not directly responding to Yvonne's remark.

Firstly, responding to Yvonne would have been too simple.
He could have said something unverifiable like, "Perhaps she was destined for greater calamity, and the Lord already deflected the vast majority of the threat, leaving only this minor bleeding." That would suffice.

But with Casca present, Shu Li didn't offer that explanation.

Such rhetoric—"This is already the Lord's mercy"—resembled verbal sugar-coating, a hypnotic illusion.

Shu Li was unwilling to pass such a fantasy on to Casca.

Secondly, the spark of their conflict stemmed from their inherent opposing stances.

Yvonne simply wanted an answer.
Casca simply wanted to defend Veronica.

The conflict between the two lay in one's rejection of the Church and the other's devotion to it.

It was fated to be like oil and water, immiscible.

Debating Stigmata here held little meaning for either of them; it was just a waste of time.

Of course, the single sentence Shu Li had spoken in Casca's defense certainly hadn't reached the bottom of the boy's heart.

Noticing Casca anxiously shifting on his feet nearby, Shu Li spoke to Yvonne in a serious tone: "Please do not casually mention 'demons.' That word carries too much weight."

Yvonne paused, realizing her blunder, and turned to Casca, saying earnestly, "I intended to discuss the situation with the Bishop and momentarily forgot you were present. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

Casca hadn't expected such a swift apology. He was taken aback for a moment, then gently shook his head, indicating it was alright.

And the look he directed at Shu Li was nearly overflowing with reverence and reliance.

Just then, a low, hoarse groan of pain came from the bedside.

Veronica was awake—

Yet her expression was dazed, as if unaware of others around her. Her eyes stared blankly, unfocused, but fixed straight on Shu Li.

Then, a deep voice emerged from her lips, carrying an unfamiliar intonation.

"Do you remember who I am?"

"…Father, my true name is Edric…"

This single sentence struck Shu Li's forehead like a cold bullet, resonating with his blood and bones, instantly pulling him back into the abyss of a memory from four years ago.

"Why didn't you save me?"

Shu Li: "…"