Chapter Thirteen: The Unexpected

As someone who had grown up in the age of the internet and had experienced the overwhelming explosion of information, Mulan’s powers of comprehension and imagination were beyond what Ivan could have predicted. Yet, precisely because she was so capable, she was never lost in confusion; and so, the degree of shock she felt at what she heard was all the greater.

“Ivan, may I understand it as the world changing from a normal state to something increasingly wondrous?”

“And increasingly dangerous!” Ivan corrected her, then returned to the main topic.

“The cathedral is the temple of the mortal realm, the place where the sacred light of the gods is channeled. Though the world faces many strange and dangerous phenomena, it is still full of hope. For the gods never abandon mortals, and certainly not their devout followers.”

Ivan cast a sidelong glance at Mulan, then spoke solemnly.

“But the power of the sacred light must be wielded by people with a sense of justice and responsibility. When confronted with evil, with fear, to overcome them both—such qualities mark those blessed by the gods, and they are among the many hopes of mankind.”

At this, Mulan muttered inwardly, “He’s not about to say I am such a person, is he?”

“Mulan, you are precisely that sort of person! The sea demon incident on the Princess Nisheriel was a test from the gods, and your sense of justice, your responsibility, and your quick thinking in the moment have amply proven your excellence!”

Mulan’s impression of Ivan shifted again. He suddenly felt that Ivan’s speech sounded much like the persuasive rhetoric of a con artist.

But, to be fair, Ivan’s sermon and his praise did answer some of Mulan’s questions and were not unpleasant to hear. If it had been a young person, their blood would probably be boiling with enthusiasm by now. Yet Mulan had crawled from the harshness of life and death, and carried the soul of a youth from the twenty-first century. So, even as he was surprised, he maintained a certain seriousness in his expression.

Mulan’s composure made Ivan value him even more. Such rare talent must surely be guided by the gods to his side, for him to nurture, and would undoubtedly be part of the gods’ mission for him.

A sudden bang came from outside the cathedral, drawing both their attention.

Both rose instinctively and walked to the door, only to find the wind outside had grown stronger than before. The sound had been caused by a flowerpot blown off the upper floor of a house across the street.

During their conversation, the street had all but emptied of pedestrians, and the sky, heavy with dark clouds, was growing increasingly dim.

“It seems I must go home now, Ivan. It was a pleasure talking with you.”

Standing at the door, Mulan extended his hand. Ivan was unaccustomed to handshakes—clerics of the cathedral usually avoided physical contact with parishioners to preserve their sanctity and authority. Yet, facing Mulan, Ivan still reached out.

“You’re always welcome here. The doors of the cathedral are forever open to you, Mr. Mulan Jonst.”

“Even if it’s only for medical treatment, I’ll come,” Mulan replied with a smile. After shaking Ivan’s hand, he withdrew and turned, stepping resolutely into the wind.

The wind outside had grown much stronger compared to that morning. While it wasn’t enough to unsteady Mulan’s steps, it did make him move with caution.

There were almost no pedestrians along the way; most shops had already closed. Some hanging signs swung back and forth in the wind with creaking noises, reminding him of the typhoons from his previous life.

As he hurried home, Mulan pondered Ivan’s words. He knew Ivan was deliberately guiding him, but now his thoughts turned to another man—the one who had prompted him to fire in the military tribunal.

Mulan believed that man was clearly interested in him as well. If Ivan had given Mulan a touch of the “supernatural,” then Sir Walton far surpassed him.

Rather than becoming a cleric, Mulan hoped to glean information from Sir Walton. He had a feeling that Walton would seek him out.

As he made his way home, the corner of Mulan’s eye sometimes caught the wind carrying a faint gray hue, but when he looked more closely, nothing was visible. Remembering Ivan’s warning, he focused and pressed onward.

When Mulan arrived home, he paid special attention to Old Buck at the door, finally relaxing. The sudden increase in wind had worried Old Buck for Mulan, as if he were still a child, and he immediately asked about Mulan’s illness. Mulan could only offer a few kind lies.

He spent his time reading the remaining newspapers, leafing through old books at home, and sitting at the dining table waiting for dinner.

The kettle on the iron stove bubbled, and Old Buck quickly rose from the table, grabbed a cloth, and went to fetch it. Mulan watched as Buck prepared the tea, then turned his gaze to the stew and bread on the table, and finally to the kitchen window, where the night seemed to arrive early with the wind.

Despite having missed lunch and his stomach rumbling, Mulan upheld the Jonst family’s etiquette and waited for his elder brother to return.

“Leo hasn’t come back yet?”

“Perhaps he’s on duty. It often happens. Or maybe the wind is too strong for him to return. Don’t worry, Master Mulan. If you’re hungry, we can eat first.”

Half an hour after dinner, the table was set with a teapot and delicious biscuits. Old Buck was tidying the kitchen, while Mulan sat at the table, idly playing with a black-shafted cane with a silver handle, the handle carved into the image of a snarling lion.

This cane was given to him by the old gentleman aboard the Princess Nisheriel, who later formally gifted it to Mulan, saying that in his hands it was merely an occasional walking stick, but in Mulan’s, it might serve a greater purpose.

As Mulan gently twisted the silver handle, the cane gave a soft, crisp click, and a gleaming blade was slowly drawn out.

“This is a costly sword-cane. Both the sword and the handle are likely made of some silver alloy, and the craftsmanship is superb. The shaft isn’t wood, though it’s black—it’s more like solid bone, perhaps tooth or horn.”

Old Buck, sharp-eyed as ever, took one look at the cane, touched it, and offered his assessment.

A rapid knocking suddenly sounded at the entrance.

“I’ll see who it is.”

Before Old Buck could get there, Mulan slid the sword back into the cane, stood up, and went to open the door himself.

When he opened it, he found not Leo, but a young man in civilian clothes, shivering as he shrank into himself. Though Mulan had only met him once, he recognized him as one of Leo’s police officers.

The wind outside seemed to have drained the warmth from the officer’s body, but his pale face was not merely the result of the cold.

“Hah, ah… Detective Jonst, he’s barely hanging on, you must…”

“What?!”

The sound of Mulan’s shock and the kettle falling in the kitchen echoed one after another.

“Where is he?”

“At… at the station… quick, come with me…”

Mulan wasted no time. He grabbed two coats from the rack—one for himself, one for Old Buck, who hurried over. He then took another overcoat and handed it to the shivering officer.

“Let’s go quickly. Tell me what happened on the way!”