Joseph was led to the dining room.
The dining room of the Apostolic Palace was not arranged like the Last Supper, but it likewise had a walnut table large enough for twelve people. Corrado Balducci and Harvey, the Archbishop of America, sat respectively to the Pope's left and right.
No matter how lavish the dining room was, it could not be called a banquet if the food laid before them was uninspired. Having just left the hospital, the Pope could still eat only liquid food. The seafood porridge prepared by the nutritionist was easy to digest and packed with nutrients, but for an elderly man with Parkinson's syndrome, holding a spoon and getting the broth into his mouth was no small challenge.
Fortunately, he was the Pope, and a butler attended to him. Yet before outsiders, even the butler would not feed the Pope as nursing home staff did.
If the Pope did not touch the food on his plate, the other two would not lift their spoons no matter how hungry they were. Thus, the food—the centerpiece of lunch—became mere decoration. The three chatted and drank wine, a sight painful enough to upset one's stomach.
"Ah, Joseph, come here." The Pope beckoned to the young Exorcist. "We were just talking about you."
Joseph calmly looked at the other two. He knew Archbishop Harvey, who was using the act of drinking to hide his expression. Corrado Balducci, meanwhile, was studying him. The man was younger than the Pope, but his hair and beard were already completely white. He looked exhausted all over, his eyelids sagging as though he had been through a serious illness.
"Talking about what?" Joseph naturally took the seat below Archbishop Harvey, diagonally opposite Corrado Balducci.
"I heard you are quite famous in America." Corrado Balducci smiled