Outside the cave, the daylight over Silent Hills was dim and murky, like dust-clouded amber.
Twisted trees cast mottled shadows. The air was heavy with the smell of damp soil and decaying vegetation, mixed with a faint, unpleasant sweetness—the filth left behind by the cult's rituals.
The fake Archbishop led Qu Xuanqing onward, continuing until they were well away from the cave entrance and certain no one inside could hear them. Then they stopped in a relatively open clearing, surrounded by towering, grotesque trees.
The fake Archbishop stopped first.
He slowly turned to face Qu Xuanqing, who was following a step behind. Though his red robes were stained with dust and spots of blood, they still carried a peculiar solemnity, as if this filthy environment were merely the backdrop to a stage beneath his feet, and he were an actor whose performance was passable.
"Miss Investigator," the fake Archbishop began. His voice remained steady, but now it held an almost imperceptible chill that perhaps belonged to his true nature. "You must have realized that the church has spies working for the cult."
Qu Xuanqing stood still. "Yes. After what happened today, anyone with a brain would reach that conclusion."
The fake Archbishop gave a slight nod in agreement. "So, until we've rooted out every spy, no one else can hear even a conversation between you and me."
Qu Xuanqing made no comment. "There's no one here now, Archbishop. What exactly do you have planned for me tomorrow?"
The fake Archbishop smiled. At that moment, his expression no longer looked quite so much like the one he'd worn while pretending.
A hint of feminine softness showed through.
He didn't rush to get to the supposed "point." Instead, he gazed at the hazy outline of the distant mountains, his tone weighted with