She is not an investigator.

"You need to answer my question first, miss."

Igris brandished the pistol in her hand. This uniquely shaped and exquisitely constructed weapon, which should have been retired long ago, had been hanging above her head.

The girl was silent for a moment, then sighed softly.

"Simia".

"Now that I know your name, I also need to know your identity."

It's rare that this girl seems to be a normal person, or rather, she has her own past and experiences, she is not a byproduct of any abnormality, nor does she belong to any non-human species, but is a genuine human being born from her mother's womb.

Igris suddenly felt a sense of relief.

"Does that matter? I can deceive you, and you'll never know whether what I'm saying is true or not."

"you're right."

Igris silently kicked the snow away, and it fell onto the girl who called herself Simia, and onto her face.

"Pay attention!"

"Don't you understand? If you can't satisfy me, I'll bury you here until winter ends and the snow melts, then they won't find your body."

Igris was threatening her, a blatant threat.

She often does this, and perhaps because she's been good-tempered for too long, she feels herself becoming weaker and weaker.

Now, she has a great opportunity to prove herself again.

"Okay, that's enough... I can apologize to you. If you have any other questions, I'll tell you."

Simia seemed to know that in this desolate wilderness, even if Igris really killed her or did something to her, no one could help her or pay any price.

She had to be careful with her words and actions for her own safety, and think carefully about the possible consequences of every word she uttered.

"I'm glad you're willing to cooperate. I need to know why you're here, and why you... fell into the trap."

To be honest, the way she looked after falling into the trap was quite embarrassing. Putting aside the fact that she was lying on her back, the snow covering her head alone was ridiculous enough.

Simia sighed, and even though she was very unhappy, she could only honestly explain.

“There’s a temporary hideout of heretics nearby. Although most of them have left, there are always a few left. I’m just here to clean up those things.”

"What heretics?"

"Blood worship... Do you know about this?"

Igris certainly knew, and had never lacked experience dealing with them.

"But why would you do that? Are you a police officer?"

If she really is, and can produce her identification, then Igris will not hesitate to pull her out of the pit.

However, she shook her head, patted the gun in her hand, and said somewhat vaguely.

“I’m obviously not… but I need to do these things… I don’t know, maybe I just need a goal to keep going.”

Perhaps she has experienced a lot of past experiences that are worth pondering and reflecting on, but those past experiences have likely brought her some unpleasant memories and wounds, to the point that her state looks almost exactly the same as Igris's.

Equally vulnerable.

"You killed them?"

“They deserve to die… I know I have no right to judge anyone, but here, nobody cares whether those guys live or die, and besides, my goal was never to kill in the first place.”

She took a deep breath and awkwardly twisted her body. The extremely narrow opening left her body almost suspended in mid-air, supported only by her neck and waist. It was not only quite uncomfortable, but also torturous.

"I... um, may I ask your name?"

"Igris".

“Okay, Igris… could you… help me out? I can go upstairs and talk to you, right? At least, don’t let me continue like this…”

Igris shook her head, appearing somewhat overly indifferent.

"You haven't gained my trust yet. You're carrying a gun, a weapon rarely used for hunting and inconvenient to carry. This means that the weapon isn't primarily for self-defense. Are you a mercenary? Or... something else?"

The power and range of this firearm are significantly different from most sidearms. If this gun is pointed at a person, and the distance is close enough, the force of the bullets it fires is enough to tear a person's body apart.

This is too dangerous and too conspicuous.

"No, I'm not... I'm a wanderer, looking for someone... maybe."

She pursed her lips, somewhat reluctantly, but still reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, worn-out notebook that looked like it had been read many times.

It was so familiar, so familiar that… Igris was somewhat dazed.

"This is…"

"Don't shoot... It's just a notebook, not mine... I can show it to you, provided you bring me out and give it back to me..."

Without further hesitation, Igris drew her straight sword and, to Simia's somewhat startled surprise, slammed it into the ground. With her other hand, she grabbed Simia's wrist and pulled her out of the narrow cave.

Although the process was somewhat rough, leaving Simia with many scrapes and abrasions, she was still barely rescued. Sitting in the snow, she sighed with relief.

But before she could stand up, Igris pressed the gun against her forehead.

"...I thought I had gained your trust."

"You don't have one, but the notebook in your hand isn't. Show it to me..."

"Okay, but please be gentle, it's quite old... and very fragile."

Igris didn't answer, but took the notebook after Simia hesitated for a moment.

On the worn brown cover was a line of small, familiar words. Although they had become somewhat blurred due to time, she still knew what they were.

Aaron, Aaron Roger.

That was her name, or rather... the name that once belonged to her.

Until it was sunk into the sea and disappeared without a trace.

Igris never imagined he would see this notebook again, the notebook that once belonged to him, the investigator's notebook that was uniquely his.

She turned to a page, and on the somewhat worn pages were written many words that she knew all too well.

Cold Spider, Nightmare, Ghoul.

Everything she remembered, and the weight of that life, was preserved in this notebook.

Even though he is already dead.

"...Could you give it back to me?"

Simia's voice interrupted Igris's thoughts, and her expression was surprisingly... filled with hostility.

"I won't take it away."

"You'd better do this... It's very precious to me, and if you insist, I'll shoot you."

Igris returned the notebook to Simia, and after a moment of silence, tilted her head and looked at her with some curiosity.

"If this notebook isn't yours, then whose is it?"

“Aaron Rogers, my savior.”

Oh.

Iglesias suddenly felt like laughing.

But because it was too impolite, she held back.

After all… Simia will never know that her savior has become at least ten years younger and turned into the… witch in front of her?

The Gods' Fool - The Northern Train: Chapter 47, New Passengers

"So, the person you're looking for is... Aaron?"

Simia nodded, but for some reason, her expression looked strange.

Igris was indeed very willing to believe her, but the problem was also obvious.

He died three years ago.

"..."

Simia raised her head, along with the weapon in her hand.

Her expression was hard to describe; it looked like she was smiling, but her brows were furrowed deeply, and although she was pulling at the corners of her mouth, there was no real smile in her eyes.

Igris ignored her hostility, because her attitude changed so quickly that even Igris could sense that something was wrong.

"...You know him."

She eventually put down her weapon because she knew that even if she had fired, she might not have been able to kill Igris on the spot, and there was no need to.

After she fired the shot, there was no way she could have left the snowfield alive.

"I know him, of course I know him."

After all, that was her, just another version of her with a different identity.

"whispering sound…"

She turned her head away somewhat irritably, and began to repeatedly jab the ground with the barrel of her gun, revealing that her emotions were not as stable and peaceful as they appeared.

Igris continued to observe her, and after a moment of silence, she turned to look at Igris again.

“I said.”

She hugged the gun to her chest and said in a muffled voice.

"Do you really think he's dead...?"

"...?"

"He... is a very capable person, you should know that, right? Powerful and charismatic... Countless difficulties and dangers have not been able to defeat him, so how could he possibly die in a shipwreck?"

She pursed her lips, and even her gaze began to harden.

“He was probably tired and just needed an excuse to escape that kind of life, so he pretended to be dead. But… I will find him. I will prove to everyone that he is still alive, even if he doesn’t want to come with me, I will find him.”

She neither believed nor accepted Aaron's death, even though three years had passed, she still seemed to firmly believe that he could have survived the shipwreck.

This is unrealistic, both from an outsider's perspective and from one's own.

She was deeply obsessed and stubborn. Countless people must have said similar things to Igris to her, but she seemed to ignore them and was unwilling to consider those voices.