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Not that she could do anything about that, so Kanzaki opened the door.

There standing at the entrance was Orsola Aquinas.

“I-I’m home.”

“Oh. Welcome back, Orsola,” said Kanzaki, showing her roommate a bewildered face.

She had no need to ring the bell, since she was a resident, but her hands were full at the moment, so she probably couldn’t get her key out. Actually, both her hands held a travel suitcase, and there was a sack on her back and even a duffel bag hanging from a shoulder strap. She looked fully decked out to go mountain climbing.

“Orsola, I thought you had sent your things beforehand.”

“Eh-heh-heh. My things increased on the way here.”

“???” Kanzaki frowned, moving aside to let in the smiling Orsola.

Oh, thought Kanzaki, her eyebrows rising a little.

Hiding in Orsola’s shadow, tugging on her habit, stood a short sister.

Her name was Agnes Sanctis.

Then, as Kanzaki stood there trying to understand the situation and failing, Orsola dropped a bombshell.

“Many more will be coming later, so this dormitory is going to become quite lively.”

St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City.

In the largest and most important cathedral of the Roman Orthodox Church, the sound of footsteps violently split through the tranquil air.

“Tch. So in the end, that Busoni idiot failed. And he even destroyed the core of the Queen of the Adriatic, and that can’t be reproduced…I swear, who does he think he has to thank for thinking up the Rosary of the Appointed Time, planning it out, and even managing to implement it? It defies reason. And the most unreasonable part is that now he’s gone missing! I demand to know who’s hiding him! Where am I supposed to vent all this stress now?!”

Two people walked through the dark interior of the cathedral—a man and a woman.

Two silhouettes were visible.

One appeared to be an older man with a stoop.

And the other one seemed to be a young female with a dynamite body.

“…Still, however, this was a bit hasty even for you. The English Puritans intervening was certainly unexpected, but even without that, there were several other barriers strewn about.” A pause. “I will speak frankly. Even without their intervention, Bishop Biagio would not have succeeded. It was a mistake to expect from him any ability to deal with failure.”

“Who do you think you’re complaining to? If I say it, it happens. That’s how the world works. This is ridiculous. Have you seriously not figured that out after all this time?”

“And you—I question whether you understand who it is you’re speaking to.”

The old man’s presence became more dreadful.

With those few words, the old man dominated the space there. The situation was one of prostration. Not of bowing one’s head because one desired it—but because one was forced to. Those who heard his voice would find their heads grabbed with an unseen hand and pushed down. That was the sort of dreadfulness he emanated.

And yet the female silhouette remained unchanged.

“The pope of Rome, right? What does that matter?”

The female silhouette answered in a casual, uncaring voice.

The space, which had initially been dominating, was now so light, as though it had been broken to pieces.

“…” The old man, whom she had called “pope,” fell silent.

She didn’t seem to mind. “Would you quit that? You know as well as I do who’s really pulling the strings in the Church. You could vanish right now and we’d just find a new pope to sit in your chair. But if I go away, you won’t find a replacement. Is that so hard to understand? You want to test it out?”

“Absurd,” he interrupted, uninterested. “Saint Peter is the only one to whom the Lord directly entrusted the future of Crossism. Though later popes succeeded at many things, their main role was still the preservation and administration of his remains. The people, not the Lord, have chosen me. I am also fully aware of this. Therefore, do not say such things. It will irritate me if you repeat something already known.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you want it, too—the proof that you alone were chosen, not just by popular vote. Plus, you want to return Roman Orthodoxy to its original form—to when our paths were guided by a single teaching, not by rule of the majority.”

“…I believe I told you not to repeat.”

“Sorry, sorry. But the way I see it, you’re still not ready. You’re not enough. That’s why you can’t come to us. Oh, and all this talk about popes being voted in. I think it’s plenty honorable to be elected for the spot, but that’s not enough to satisfy you. Reason’s real simple, too. In the age of the Son of God and His disciples’ acts, Crossism itself was a majority decision by a minority group. And even though they were a minority, their strength never faltered against superior numbers. That’s why you think there isn’t much divine value in being elected through a majority vote. And that’s why you glare at people like me, who have that kind of value, while being completely unchained by the majority. And yet you only amass more and more votes…It seems to be less like an ordeal and more a worry of luxury.”

“!!”

A moment later, the old man’s head whipped around.

Pchee!! came an incomprehensible, splitting noise.

Even faced with the mysterious situation, the female silhouette still didn’t move. But their attitudes of tension and relaxation displayed the result of this inscrutable battle.

“Malice. Very good.” The woman snickered. “But if you direct that malice at me, you will die,” she remarked, sticking out her tongue.

A griiik sound of metal against metal.

She had a ring in her tongue. A thin chain, like a necklace chain, hung from the ring, reaching down to her hips. A small cross was attached to the tip of the chain.

“…” The old man took just one step away. With detest and a little bit of envy in his voice, he said, “…God’s Right Seat. Not enough to be swayed by a mere pope, I see.”

“Just the fact that you know the name of the schema I belong to means you’re pretty high up there. Still not satisfied, I’m sure?”

She had been on the receiving end of some sort of attack, but she certainly didn’t seem to care. She remained smiling. “Look this over and sign it.”

“A command—to me?…Wait, this document is…”

“I’m sure you would have drawn this up yourself eventually. Maybe in two or three years. I’m just cutting to the chase. It’s a pain, but your signature is worth a lot. Do it before sunrise, will you? Just write your name there and it’ll be all over.”

“However…” The old man seemed to hesitate for a moment. “…I still cannot accept it. If he was deeply involved with sorcery, that would be one thing—but he is simply ignorant of our Lord. Faith in false idols is a sin, but if born of mere ignorance, there is still salvation. I will have to deny that we go this far…”

“There is no negative form with me,” the female silhouette said, cutting him off flatly. “Passive, imperative, conjunctive, attributive, imperfective, perfective, predicative, conditional…What else was there? Well, it doesn’t really matter. But the negative form is the one thing I will not acknowledge. You do what I say to do. Whether it’s Saint Peter or the Son of God, this rule doesn’t change. So you will sign this document. Understand?”

The old man, paper in hand, nodded briefly. And slightly bitterly.

“Very good. ” The woman’s silhouette disappeared into the dark.

Had she really vanished or just made it seem that way? The old man didn’t think about it. He didn’t need to analyze the technique she’d used. Whatever the case was, she would continue down her own path. Though whether that was a path that led upward, he couldn’t determine.

Instead, he directed his attention to the document.

With the lights off inside the cathedral, the only illumination came from the moon shining in through the stained glass windows. The letters were almost unreadable in the near-darkness, but the old man’s eyes followed them.

…This is a bit too soon. A habit of hers, I assume.

Still, now that she’d made the decision, it was done. As she herself had said, the negative form didn’t exist for her.

Sourly, the old man decided to withdraw to his own quarters.

There was no pen here.

On the document was this:

“Touma Kamijou.

“Portrebbe investigare urgentemente. Quando lui è pericoloso, lo uccida di sicuro.”

Its meaning was: “Touma Kamijou. Immediately investigate the aforementioned person, and if he is acknowledged as an enemy of the Lord, kill him without fail.”

In practicality, it was a request for the Roman Orthodox Church to rally all its forces and conduct an assassination, even if it meant mobilizing the God’s Right Seat.

The order would be carried out before five days were past.