Despite everything, Jeanne looked at the Pope's optimistic expression and chose to remain silent. It sounded like the candidates opposing him were just a bunch of "fun-seekers"; surely nothing truly dire would happen.
However, she felt a twinge of pity for the old man. Her intuition told her this wouldn't end so simply. Those people had finally found such a high-quality source of entertainment; how could they possibly let it go?
But what truly surprised Jeanne was that the elderly Pope really had invited her just for tea. There was nothing else—no hidden agendas, no grand requests!
"I was wondering... in your letter, you mentioned there was something you wanted me to know. What was that about?"
After a long silence, seeing that the Pope had no intention of bringing it up, Jeanne took the initiative to ask. If she didn't remember it so clearly, she would have thought she'd misread the letter. Could it be that the old man was reaching an age where he simply forgot what he'd written?
"Ah, that matter..." The Pope stroked his long beard. It was clear he felt the timing wasn't quite right. "How should I put this? I don't think it's a major issue at the moment. I'd rather you experience the festival in a few days first. You can use this time to truly understand us, the people of Laterano."
If Jeanne were to learn the truth now, her reaction might involve the very future of the Sankta and Laterano itself. Caution was required. He hoped she would gain a deeper understanding of the Sankta race before he showed her the thing he intended for her to see.
"Alright then. Since it's not particularly urgent, I'll look forward to the festival in a few days," Jeanne replied. She didn't push further. A few days' wait wouldn't change much.
"That's good. Some things can't be handled in a short time anyway. Before that, it's better to just have a good time and play," the Pope nodded with a smile, appreciative of her understanding.
The three of them sat there, no longer discussing serious matters, but simply chatting about whatever came to mind. It truly felt like an elder talking to his granddaughter; there was no trace of the high-ranking leader in his demeanor.
For Jeanne, however, the only problem was the food. By her standards, it was far too sweet. These people put five or six sugar cubes in a single cup of tea! Combined with the desserts, Jeanne felt her teeth beginning to ache. At this rate, she'd have cavities within two months. How on earth did the Sankta adapt to this level of sweetness? Or was the Pope's love for sugar just exceptionally higher than average?
Looking at his physique, she realized only a massive intake of high-calorie food could sustain such a frame.
"Though the festival is still two days away, there are plenty of places to see. I recommend visiting the Clock Tower when you have time. That bell is quite old."
Lemuen, of course, knew exactly which old clock tower he meant. It was one of the most unique places in Laterano. It had stood there for so many years that almost no one dared to even suggest blowing it up just to see what would happen. If someone actually submitted such an application, the Notarial Hall would likely pay them a visit to ask if they were going through some sort of life crisis.
It was a strange place—it stood in the heart of the city, yet no records existed detailing when it was built.
"We will. I'll take her to see it. It is, after all, one of the most famous sights in Laterano," Lemuen promised.
After bidding their farewells, Lemuen led Jeanne out of the Basilica. The Pope watched the two girls disappear from his sight, lost in thought.
"Why did you suddenly mention the Clock Tower? Most Sankta don't even bother going there anymore," a voice remarked.
A heavily armed Apostolic Knight walked over. He had been patrolling nearby, only showing himself once Jeanne and Lemuen had left. He was a Pontificial Knight, a personal guard dedicated to the Pope's safety. If the Pope hadn't sent him away earlier, Jeanne would have met him.
Evidently, the guard had overheard the conversation.
"Who knows? Perhaps just an old man seeing if a miracle might happen? It's merely a stray move on the chessboard," the Pope replied after a moment of thought.
The guard scratched his head, confused by the cryptic answer. Can't you just speak clearly for once? he thought. My brain needs time to process this stuff.
"You want to see if she can ring that bell? But that thing hasn't made a sound in nearly a thousand years."
He finally realized what the Pope was getting at. But even then, it seemed incomprehensible. Every Pope in history had hoped for the Great Bell to ring again. And the results? They were always the same. No matter the effort or the method, the bell remained silent, without even an echo.
"Who can truly understand such things? Perhaps there really are miracles and Revelations in this world? Besides, as I told you, it's just an attempt."
The Pope looked out the window. The setting sun was bathing the streets of Laterano, turning the white marble into its own golden hue.
"It's a long shot, but if it's her, I think it might actually happen! It would be a rare New Year's gift for everyone."
The Pope seemed remarkably confident in Jeanne's ability to make the Sacred Bell ring again.
"Well, have it your way! By the way, how was the dessert I specially prepared? Was the texture alright?" the Knight asked eagerly. This was his latest invention, something he'd spent a long time thinking about.
It was surprising that an Apostolic Knight would be into baking, but then again, every Sankta was rumored to be proficient in over twenty types of dessert-making. It wasn't that strange.
At the mention of the food, the Pope cleared his throat twice before speaking: "It was... acceptable. At least much better than the bitter gourd pudding from last time. But I am curious, how did you come up with such a thing?"
"Have you heard of a famous dish called 'Wrath Of Siracusa'?"
The Pope finally understood. So you took inspiration from that and created a dessert that will go down in history? Do you realize this isn't even a dessert anymore? You could call someone who made this a "freak" even by Laterano standards. If he ever opened a shop, the other Sankta might treat him as a heretic and beat him up—except they probably couldn't win a fight against him.
The Pope muttered to himself, secretly hoping the man was joking. But given this Knight's history of bizarre creations, it probably wasn't.
"What, it wasn't good? I felt great when I ate those noodles, so I figured this combination would be fine," the Knight explained, noticing the Pope's complex expression.
"The Law guides us to show kindness to things we haven't tried... Whatever makes you happy."