2-04

"Good evening, sir."

The lean man gave a slight nod. "I am a priest of the Church of Storms. Have you spoken with Miss Hana today?"

Sifa nodded and answered, "Yes." He thought to himself, Hana really did seek help from the Church of Storms. That was good. Matters like this should be handled by the Church.

"Good. Please come with me to the church. Bishop Miller from Bansy Harbor has arrived, and he is waiting for all those who came into contact with her."

"Fine—wait." Sifa agreed instinctively before asking, "What do you mean by those who came into contact with her? Why do I have to go to the church?"

The Church of Storms priest said impatiently, "If you spoke with Miss Hana and discussed her adventure, then you should already have been 'infected.'"

"Taking you to the church is both to borrow your strength and to give you a chance to save yourselves."

Sifa stared at him in astonishment. "What infection? What saving ourselves? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Check your body. You should have something like mold spots on you. That is proof of infection."

The storm priest said solemnly, "Please take this seriously. This afternoon, one contact's condition worsened. He is currently bedridden. If we cannot find a solution, he will die within one or two days."

When Sifa heard the words "mold spots," his heart skipped a beat. He hurriedly examined his arms and, sure enough, found a patch of mold on the palm of his right hand.

"How could this happen?"

The storm priest glanced at the bartender beside him. "Thank you for showing me the way. You may leave now."

The bartender hurriedly agreed. He did not dare linger and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Only then