Jeanne couldn't wrap her head around what Lemuen was thinking. If she truly wanted to strike back, there were countless opportunities earlier to simply put a bullet in the man. Yet, if she had no intention of hurting him, why go through all the trouble? Jeanne found herself completely lost in the shifting gears of the angel's mind.
Furthermore, based on the conversation and Lemuen's attitude, it seemed this wasn't the first time that man had visited the hospital. Jeanne didn't even know how to evaluate Laterano's security anymore. How could a wanted criminal walk the streets day after day without being noticed? Was it that the Sankta were overly confident in their city's safety, or was everyone living in Laterano just naturally light-hearted to the point of being airheaded?
"Setting that aside, shouldn't you return to your normal state first? Talking to me with that face... it's a bit unsettling."
Jeanne looked at Lemuen, whose makeup was so overdone she looked like a vampire. If a doctor who didn't know the situation walked in, they'd likely rush her off for an emergency blood transfusion. It was a textbook case of extreme anemia! Any doctor would wonder how a patient could lose that much blood and still act like nothing was wrong.
Hearing this, Lemuen wiped away the ghostly white makeup, revealing her naturally healthy skin.
"I think my acting was pretty good," Lemuen said, "though it was a bit rushed, so there were plenty of loopholes. Luckily, he isn't the type to obsess over those details."
In truth, if Andoain had been calm enough to observe his surroundings, he likely would have noticed several inconsistencies. Despite her hurried disguise, there is a visible difference between a ward someone has lived in for a while and one that was sitting vacant. Fortunately, his focus was elsewhere, allowing her to fudge the details. However, if he ever discovered she had miraculously recovered her health, he would undoubtedly have questions.
"The acting was great; I can see you being a professional con artist," Jeanne remarked. "But seriously, do you really not plan on telling anyone about his goal?"
Jeanne wasn't worried about the politics, but she was concerned about the man's stability—or lack thereof. A fanatic who lets a question fester in his mind for too long is a dangerous variable. With the festival approaching, any incident could lead to a significant number of civilian casualties.
"I promised him I wouldn't tell the Basilica, didn't I? But you were there too. I never said you wouldn't tell anyone."
Andoain likely hadn't considered the possibility of "closets having ears," or perhaps he was just a bit too confident in his own detection skills. Jeanne had used some unknown method to remain completely hidden; even a man as sharp as him had spent all that time in the room without sensing her! Before meeting Jeanne, Lemuen would have thought that impossible. Now, she knew better.
Jeanne raised an eyebrow. She hadn't expected to be the "loophole" in that promise. No wonder Lemuen had spoken with such conviction.
"I didn't think you'd play word games with him like that. But don't Sankta have Empathy? Why didn't he sense a thing?"
Jeanne was genuinely curious about this Empathy. Both the Pope and Lemuen claimed it was the primary reason Laterano had remained stable for a thousand years. But how far did it actually go? As a human, Jeanne couldn't experience it; she could only rely on her "Revelation" to guess at the thoughts of others.
Lemuen simply shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't want to explain; she just couldn't find the words. To a Sankta, Empathy was as natural as water is to a fish. But a fish can't explain the sensation of breathing underwater to a human, can it?
This was perhaps the fundamental difference between Sankta and other races—the reason why Fiammetta could never understand how they could look at Andoain with such equanimity.
"It's just a small trick, really. Since the other person only feels a blurred reflection of your emotions, as long as I don't think about your presence, he can't detect it."
Lemuen made it sound easy, but Jeanne knew how difficult it was. Controlling one's brain to not think about something is far harder than focusing on a specific task. It required rigorous training—likely something Lemuen mastered during those long years she lay paralyzed in bed.
"Alright, alright. Let's get out of here. We've bothered the doctors enough; no need to keep adding to their workload."
After tidying up the room, the two prepared to leave. Before stepping out, Lemuen looked at the yellow irises, hesitated for a moment, and then took them with her. This might be the last time she ever received flowers from him. She remembered the days before the incident when he would often bring irises as gifts.
Moreover, any observant person could guess his hiding spot just from these flowers. The Basilica likely already knew exactly where he was. As for why they hadn't arrested him? Only Pope Evangelista XI.V would know the answer to that.
When the two walked out of the hospital, they found Mostima and Fiammetta waiting for them. Seeing them, a triumphant smile spread across Mostima's face. The two of them had vanished the previous night, claiming they had business to handle, and hadn't been in touch since. Judging by their appearance, it had been a busy night; even Fiammetta's feathers were slightly ruffled.
"What did I tell you?" Mostima said to Fiammetta in a winning tone. "They were definitely at the hospital! Look around Laterano—who else has a vehicle as bizarre as theirs?"
She was, of course, referring to the strangely styled car parked nearby.
Fiammetta rolled her eyes. "I never said I didn't believe they were here. Stop acting so smug."
But as they bickered, Fiammetta's expression suddenly shifted. Her eyes locked onto the bouquet of irises in Lemuen's hand. It wasn't strange for someone to leave a hospital with flowers, but that was usually reserved for recovering patients being discharged. Why would someone who was supposedly just visiting doctors have a bouquet?
There was only one answer: a friend, unaware of her recovery, had come to visit.
"He was here?"
Fiammetta's gaze immediately swept across the surrounding buildings. Even though she knew he was likely long gone, she still hoped to catch a glimpse of him. But Andoain had been gone for a while; there was no trace left for her to find. She turned her gaze back to Lemuen, seeking confirmation.
When Lemuen nodded, Fiammetta's temper flared.
"I really don't get you people! Why did you let him go? With you healthy again and Jeanne right there, you had every ability to catch him easily!"
She truly couldn't understand. That man had nearly killed her! How could they face him and act as if nothing had happened? And based on Lemuen's reaction, this clearly wasn't the first time he'd visited—and Lemuen had never mentioned it!
She looked at Mostima, whose expression suggested she wasn't surprised at all. In that moment, Fiammetta felt like the odd one out in their trio, the only one kept in the dark about everything.