She is not an investigator.

“That’s enough… Igris, isn’t this better? Let’s pretend nothing happened. You’re still the high and mighty Igris, and I’m still the petty thief… Isn’t this better?”

Isabella's words were tinged with obvious prejudice and complaint, but she genuinely didn't want to hurt Igris or make things too big.

She was content, as long as there was still a chance for things to end, and as long as they could still get along like before.

The greedy phantom thief died that night, and now she no longer desires those things. As long as she can, and as long as Igris is willing, they can reconcile again.

Would this be a good way to handle things? If they can maintain this delicate relationship...

"Isabella, listen to me..."

"Are you still going to reject me? You want to completely sever ties with me, stay far away from me, and never see me again? Let me tell you, no way... Don't even think about it!"

Igris had no such intention, but when faced with Isabella's agitated state, she couldn't help but slightly back away.

Perhaps her phobia had relapsed, because Igris became unusually cautious in her movements and her expression became somewhat worried.

But Isabella wouldn't notice, because she never looked at Igris again, nor did she see her expression.

"I...can we talk this out? Isabella...I don't want things to get too tense, and we can still be friends, it's just..."

"But! Damn it! Isn't this enough? Do you have to push me to the brink?! Get out...get out of here! I don't want to say another word to you!"

"..."

"Didn't you hear me! I told you to get out—!"

boom.

The ward door was slammed shut, and Igris, who was pushed out of the room, looked at the wooden door in front of her and raised her hand in a daze.

She wanted to try knocking on the door again, hoping Isabella would give her another chance to have a proper talk, but her slightly trembling body made it impossible for her to muster the courage.

Finally, she slowly lowered her hand, turned around, and leaned wearily against the door.

"Ugh..."

A mournful cry suddenly welled up from her mouth, accompanied by exhaustion and fear, and her limbs slowly stiffened and rusted.

Her body slid slowly down against the closed door behind her and fell to the ground.

The unfamiliar sobbing sound came from her mouth, making her feel dizzy and causing her to forcefully cover her mouth, trying to swallow the despair and sorrow.

"Woooo..."

Finally, she could no longer bear it, and curled up her now exceptionally thin body by the door, hugging her legs.

Her tears quickly soaked her clothes, and the sorrow slowly seeped into her limbs and internal organs.

She began to feel suffocated, began to feel pain, and began to feel cold.

An unimaginable sense of despair crept up her spine again, causing her to contemplate suicide for the first time.

When exactly did she start to become so vulnerable?

Perhaps her body was inherently fragile, and all the experiences and lessons of her past life did not truly compensate for this fragility.

Rather, it's more accurate to say that... the fact that she's managed to hold on until now is already a miracle.

Would it be a little happier to die like this?

"...What am I thinking?"

Igris' eyes slowly cleared, but the sadness within them did not easily dissipate.

She struggled to her feet, roughly wiping away her tears, and stubbornly moving her already stiff limbs.

If she were to die like this, then her rebirth would undoubtedly be a failure.

She should do something more meaningful, do something she should do.

Or...go see a doctor.

The Gods' Folly - Regret: Chapter Thirty-Six, The Road Ahead

Igris left the ward and walked down the corridor.

She kept her head down, not wanting anyone to see her obviously red and swollen eyes, or the streaks of tears on her face.

She gripped her arm tightly, trying to calm her body and prevent unnecessary trembling through this contact.

But people here often don't notice her because this is a hospital, and everyone's face carries more or less a sorrowful expression.

They wouldn't mock the suffering of others, because that sorrow had already seeped into everyone's heart through these stark white walls and the almost suffocating smell of disinfectant in the air.

Gradually, Igris' pace quickened.

Near the exit, she practically ran, trying to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

She didn't look up, but in that instant, she bumped into someone walking towards her.

Igris's movements were too fast, too unsteady, too exaggerated.

She fell heavily to the ground, her legs throbbing with excruciating pain as if they were cramping, which contorted her beautiful face and brought back the despair in her heart.

She crawled backward, almost trembling, not daring to look up at the person she had bumped into. She wanted to apologize, but her throat felt as if it were being choked, and she could only breathe silently.

She felt the gazes, the strange stares of everyone in the corridor, as if they were looking at an alien.

She struggled to get up from the ground, but her body became even more somatized at that moment, and she almost completely lost all sensation.

Gradually, everything in her eyes began to fade, turning into a black and white void.

The clamor once again flooded her ears, mocking her heart, stirring her spirit, and trying to kill her completely on the spot.

Mania, violence, and a defiant spirit filled her heart, urging her to draw her weapon and drive away those nonsensical voices.

As she slowly regained sensation in her body, her hand involuntarily went to her waist and rested on the pistol that had always been with her.

“…Igris?”

A familiar voice slowly sounded in front of Igris, causing her to stop in her tracks and raise her head.

Her world became quiet again, and all the noise and sensations from before vanished without a trace.

It was all her hallucination, whether it was that sharp gaze or those noisy words.

They were trying to lure Igris into drawing her weapon and killing everyone here.

But all of this was interrupted by the person in front of her, a friend whom Igris knew very well.

"Father...?"

Constantine.

A man who was always in Biyanka, but Igris never actively sought him out.

Constantine also fell to the ground; coincidentally, he was the same person who had just been knocked down by Igris's chaotic steps.

He certainly wouldn't blame Igris for her rudeness, but he was more concerned about her current state.

You don't look...well?

"I…"

Igris didn't know that she might not be feeling well, but that was only for a short time.

At least for now… her physical transformation seemed to be over, so she struggled to her feet and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Father, I’ve been a bit… busy and didn’t notice you.”

Constantine wasn't too concerned about that; he was just surprised that Igris was there.

"I didn't expect you to be here in Biyanka too. If we hadn't bumped into each other, you probably wouldn't have come looking for me, right?"

It must be said that the priest's intuition was very accurate.

Igris didn't want to answer, nor did she want to reminisce here. The disinfectant made her uneasy and made her want to escape, but she didn't want Constantine to notice anything unusual, so she could only force a smile.

"I've been a bit busy lately... Did you come to the hospital to buy medicine?"

Igris felt she had asked the question unnecessary, since all she had to do was say hello and leave.

Once she took the initiative to ask, the conversation had to continue.

"No... I'm just visiting a friend... Compared to me, what about you...? You don't look like you're in any good shape..."

Constantine hesitated, though he could see that Igris was strong and composed. But he wasn’t stupid; she hadn’t even wiped the tears off her face.

"I...I'm here to visit a friend too."

Igris wiped her face, trying to cover the tear stains, but it was obviously useless; in fact, it only made them more noticeable.

"Sorry, I have to go now. Let's talk again another time."

Igris took a deep breath, not intending to talk any further, and hurriedly prepared to leave.

But the moment she took her first step, Constantine's voice came from behind her.

Have you seen a psychologist?

Igris stopped in her tracks and glanced sideways at the priest.

He perceived many things, perhaps more than most people know.

“I’ve met people like you before. They are die-hard fanatics who drive themselves almost insane in their pursuit of faith, becoming neither human nor monster.”

As he continued speaking, Igris stopped moving completely and turned to look at Constantine.

“You are just like them, with that suffocating aura of death about you. I know you’ve been dealing with something, and I know you’ll get this day sooner or later, Igris.”

"..."

Igris murmured something, wanting to say something to refute Constantine, but it was pointless.

When he finally revealed everything, the expression on Igris's face had already betrayed him.

"Don't be afraid, you know I have no ill intentions towards you... I just know how to resolve your predicament."

"you know?"

Igris raised her eyes again, the sadness in them turning into doubt, and a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of hope.

Constantine nodded, though his expression wasn't relaxed, but he continued.

“I do know people who can help you, but they’re not here, and… to be honest, I can’t be sure if they’re still alive. But your problem has gotten so bad that it’s starting to affect your actions, so Igris, perhaps trying to find them is the only thing you can do.”

"..."