Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 54 Siren Delland
Mathilde woke up a little later the next day.

Xilun was sitting on a deck chair nearby, reading a newspaper—something put together by idle intellectuals in the controlled area on the seventh underground level.

Upon hearing the noise beside him, he quickly moved closer, and Mathilde slightly opened her eyes.

"Awake? Are you alright? How are you feeling?" Xilun moved closer and tugged at the chair.

"It's nothing, just exhaustion from depleted spiritual energy, nothing serious." Mathilde struggled to sit up, supporting herself with her hands. "How long have I been asleep?"

"All day long."

"How's the situation in the city?" she asked.

"Raine is seriously injured and unconscious, his condition is unknown, the lockdown is very tight, the previous riots have been quelled, the losses are still being tallied, we took the opportunity to capture Boiler No. 2 and a small agricultural area."

Mathilde paused for a moment, as if she were still a little dazed from just waking up.

"I said the public suffered damage."

Xiren was uncharacteristically embarrassed: "The casualties will be tallied by the people on Rennes' side, we can't interfere, but I estimate it will be over a hundred."

"Mmm," she responded, and then they fell into an inexplicable silence and an eerie atmosphere.

“…I’ll get you some food and water.” Xilun broke the silence with difficulty, took a grilled sausage, bread slices and tea from the side, and brought them to the bedside.

Mathilde gazed out the window, its light warm and the air cool, at the falling snow, lost in thought. The alcohol thermometer outside pointed to -30°C.

“What will happen to the gospel?” she asked.

“…All the people I recruited have run away, and a lot of things have been lost. This morning, one of the runaways came to me to repent and returned the stolen items.” Xilun placed the food on the quilt.

Have you forgiven them?

“I forgive you,” said Siron. “I said, ‘I do not condemn you either; go! And sin no more!’”

"Which book did you read that from?"

The Gospel of John.

“I see.” Mathilde turned her head and smiled at him, but Siren always felt there was something else in that smile.

“What about the others?” she asked.

"Fafner led a team to investigate today, and it looks like it's almost over."

"Kill them?"

“…I don’t know, I’m struggling with this too.” Xiren sighed. “Killing them isn’t necessary, and we don’t have the manpower to set up a religious court for sentencing…What do you think about sending them to labor camps in agricultural areas?”

“It’s a very novel idea… I don’t know either, you decide,” Mathilde said.

Then the two fell silent again, with only the howling of the wind and the pounding of snow against the windowpane.

"Do you like it?" Xilun suddenly asked.

"Ok?"

“Grilled sausages—a citizen brought me a dozen or so this morning. They were filled with less oatmeal, but also sage and thyme,” Xilun said. “The bread slices were whole wheat; the taste was so-so, but they were quite filling.”

Mathilde looked at his expression and smiled with interest.

"You've had quite a few mistresses, haven't you?" she suddenly said.

Xilun was stunned for a moment, somewhat puzzled. His first reaction was that he was so young, how could he have a mistress? Then, memories from deep within his mind suddenly surfaced, and his expression changed.

His hands trembled unconsciously, then he hid them behind his back, the color draining from his face: "Who said that?"

"I don't know, it's just some rumors. You can hear them if you go to the tavern in the residential area in plainclothes. It's quite popular. I heard someone is already writing 'The Bishop and Twenty-Eight Mistresses'." "..." Xiren didn't know how to defend himself. He guessed that it was probably done by the propaganda minister Schneider, but the original owner of the body had indeed done it.

He wanted to cover up the past and pretend it was a rumor. After all, the heavy snow had blocked news from afar, and no one in Speyer really knew the former Siron Delland. Whatever he said was the truth.

What was Siren Delland like before? That's all in the past. The real me is now. If you don't believe me, go to Lundin and see for yourself.
But he spent too much time, and those few seconds of silence and his subconscious physical reaction completely exposed him. He was certain that Mathilde already knew, and the more he hesitated, the more powerless he seemed.

Mathilde remained silent, seemingly waiting for his reply.

Xilun knew that although this kind of thing was not normal in this era, it was barely acceptable; it was just gossip for the masses.

But out of professional ethics, he didn't want to admit it.

During the analysis process, psychoanalysts may experience "transference," where patients may unconsciously treat the analyst as their own parents, projecting dependence, affection, indifference, or even resentment. The analyst becomes a blank slate for the patient, projecting the patient's emotions onto them.

In this hypnotic-like process, ethical issues can easily arise. Xilun has experienced this several times, which has made him very embarrassed, but he has always managed to stay within his bounds.

“I…” He lowered his head, his black hair obscuring the light in his eyes, as if in a helpless sigh, “…I haven’t done it.”

But that explanation was too weak, or rather, if there was nothing to hide, why would someone act like that?

He desperately wanted to explain, to say that he had only been thinking before, and that his change in expression was simply because the accusation was too great.

I can explain it, right? I am the leader of the Church of Speyer, and whatever I say goes, even if it's not entirely credible. But you have no choice but to accept my explanation because you have no other evidence.

You can only guess, guess across the apocalypse and the snow, guess what I was like in Lundin.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it.

He didn't want to admit it, but he also didn't want to lie.

"I'm leaving now," he said. "Take good care of yourself."

Xiren stood up from the chair, grabbed the black coat from the hanger, put it on, and tugged at the collar.

It was already dusk outside, and the heavy snow and clouds obscured much of the light. He actually had nowhere to go, but he no longer wanted to stay there.

"Why do you care so much?" Mathilde sighed.

"There are no cardinals here, no assessments, no reviews. No one will criticize you for this moral stain, nor will it affect your status... Why care so much?"

Xilun remained silent, his back to her.

He didn't want to answer. Siren Delland might not care, but he did.

“I don’t care,” he said. “It’s nothing, I should go.”

"Where to go?"

“There are always people coming to the church to confess at night. I’ll go sit in the confessional for a while.”

The sound of rummaging through the cabinet came from inside, and Xiren found his deerskin gloves.

“Go ahead,” she said, then lay down again. “Wear more layers, it’s getting dark.”

"I understand." Xiren wrapped a scarf around his neck, braved the heavy snow, and pushed open the door to go out.

Streetlights have been erected along the road leading to the church, but the lights haven't been installed yet. Rows of black iron pillars stand beside the cemetery, like a dark path to the underworld.

Mathilde watched his departing figure and smiled.

"You don't seem like a bishop at all... Siren, why are you so concerned about that kind of thing? You've already acted so convincingly... yet you slip up in a way like this."

"Forget it, I'm not good at playing the abbot anyway."

(End of this chapter)