"His Majesty … Roland?"
The voice seemed to come from far away, slow and soft.
It wasn't until he felt a slight itch in his ear that Roland suddenly came back to his senses.
"You're distracted again." Nightingale leaned over the long table and looked him in the eyes. She supported her slightly tilted chin with one hand and shook her white index finger with the other. Obviously, she had used this finger to play with his ear.
"Uh … Really?" Roland cleared his throat and pretended to look at the seized statistical report. "Maybe it's because today's weather is especially suitable for a nap."
"But this isn't the first day." Nightingale flashed back to the reclining chair at the side of the tent. "It's been like this since we came back from the Reflection Church. What happened? "
Roland subconsciously wanted to deny it, but the words stopped at the tip of his tongue. Lies were ineffective against Nightingale, and he couldn't lie to himself. Even though almost a week had passed, he still couldn't figure it out.
"I did find something wrong … But, it's too strange, and I don't know how to explain it."
"If it's not easy to explain, you don't have to tell me." Nightingale held the back of her head and looked up at the sky. "My brain isn't as good as yours anyway. Even if I tell you, it's unlikely that it'll help. If it's Anna, she should be able to help — "
"I didn't tell her either." Roland shook his head with a bitter smile.
"Eh … Really?" Nightingale immediately turned over from the reclining chair. "Why?"
"Because the degree of strangeness of this matter is beyond the scope of my understanding," he said bluntly. "But it just doesn't affect anything. In other words, it's just my personal trouble. Telling her won't make any sense other than adding to her troubles. "
"I see." Nightingale blinked and showed a look of sudden realization, but Roland knew that she didn't understand at all. She just didn't understand.
"So, don't mention to her that I'm always in a daze," he said. "No one can solve this problem except me."
"Hey, of course!" For some reason, Nightingale suddenly became happy. She first patted her chest, then took out a piece of grilled fish from her bag and threw it into her mouth, looking satisfied.
After stabilizing the other party, Roland secretly sighed. Although his eyes were looking at the statistics, he could not focus at all. The scene in the secret chamber of the church kept floating in his mind.
Why would a fictional character appear in the early days of the Union? In fact, judging from the portrait, she had existed even earlier.
Afterward, Roland asked Isabella, Agatha, and Phyllis, but all the answers he got were no. That period of history was too distant for Taquila, and no one could tell who the person in the background was. They could only infer that she used to be famous.
He had always thought that there were two kinds of people in the Dream World. One was the defeated people who had been devoured by Zero. They were bound to the Soul Building and were still inextricably linked to this world. The most obvious characteristic was that they had almost the same appearance and the memory fragments in their residences.
The other kind were fictional people who came from the background of the Dream World. Part of them was extracted from his brain, and the other part was fabricated by the world itself.
But now, his understanding was shaken.
According to Isabella, Zero's lifespan was roughly between 200 and 250 years old, and there were corresponding records of her service to the Pope. This should not be wrong. But the problem was that this Pure Witch who never aged could not devour a person from 800 years ago. Her age might be very shocking for ordinary people, but it was nothing in the long river of history.
After all, she was still a person born in the era of the church. In terms of seniority, Agatha and the others could be her grandmother.
So did the person in the portrait run into the Dream World by herself?
This idea was even more unbelievable.
How could an ancient person survive in modern society and disguise herself flawlessly? Moreover, before the Dream World appeared, where did her soul reside?
In addition, the appearance of "Lan" could also refute this conjecture.
She could be said to have an extraordinary temperament, but she was definitely not beautiful. This showed that she was not a witch — without her strange ability, no matter how outstanding a person was when they were alive, they would only turn into dust after a hundred years of death.
Putting aside the above two ideas, the most reasonable explanation was the most bland one, which was that the two of them just met face to face, and everything was purely a coincidence.
If he adopted this idea, it would save him a lot of trouble, but in his heart, Roland still could not convince himself — was this really a pure coincidence?
If he wanted to further find the answer, he was afraid that he would have to find the person herself.
Whenever I thought about the Dream World that was becoming more and more unfathomable, I would subconsciously resist it. However, being troubled by an unknown secret didn't feel good either.
After nearly a week of hesitation, Roland finally made up his mind to choose the lesser of two evils.
Of course, what helped him to make up his mind was the Taquila God's Punishment Witches who begged him in every possible way, as well as the rather idle waiting time after touring the Holy City of Hermes.
...
The process of entering the Dream World was still very familiar. When he opened his eyes, the time was still fixed at the time when he left last time. Although it had been more than a month since the last time, the surroundings had not changed at all. On the bedside table was a group photo of trainees, as if he had just returned from the headquarters of the Martialist Association.
Roland took out his cell phone, scrolled to the column of Garcia's number, and pressed the dial button.
The phone was quickly connected, and there was even breathing coming from the other side of the phone. "Hello?"
He looked out of the window. At this time, the sky was just beginning to brighten. "Are you doing morning exercises?"
"If you know, then don't talk nonsense." Garcia's tone was still very disdainful, but at least compared to before, it was not cold and unapproachable. "What's up?"
"Well, I have a question to discuss with you. How about now? I'll come to you right away and treat you to breakfast. "
"So urgent?" Garcia was silent for a moment. "Then come down. I'm in the alley in front of the tube-shaped apartment."
"Wait for me." Roland hung up the phone, put on his clothes as fast as he could, and rushed out of the room. When he passed by the living room, he saw Zero, who was disheveled and had a sleepy face. Apparently, she had just gotten out of bed. Her wrinkled pajamas had slid down to one side, revealing half of her white and tender shoulders. She was wearing a pair of oversized men's slippers, which undoubtedly belonged to him.
He put his hand on his forehead and shook his head. He had to stop and turn around to help the little girl fix her collar.
"Oh, wait... I'll go boil water later..." Zero said vaguely.
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