As someone who had lived through the information explosion of the internet age, Mulan possessed powers of comprehension and imagination that Evan could never have anticipated. But precisely because he understood so well, rather than being left bewildered, what he heard shocked him all the more.
"Father Evan, can I take that to mean the world is changing from an ordinary place into something increasingly extraordinary?"
"And increasingly dangerous!"
Evan added that correction, then returned to the subject at hand.
"The Holy Temple is God's sanctuary in the mortal world, a place where His Holy Light is received. Though the world faces many strange phenomena and dangers, it remains full of hope, for God will never abandon mortals, much less His devout believers."
Casting a sidelong glance at Mulan, Evan continued solemnly.
"But the power of Holy Light must be wielded by those with a strong sense of justice and responsibility. Those who face evil and fear, who overcome evil and fear-people with such qualities are blessed by God, and are among the many sources of hope in this world."
Hearing this, Mulan muttered inwardly, He's not about to tell me I'm one of those people, is he?
"Mulan, you are just such a person! The Siren Case aboard the Princess Niseriel was God's test for you. Your sense of justice and responsibility, along with your ability to respond under pressure, are ample proof of your outstanding qualities!"
Mulan's impression of Father Evan shifted yet again. Now, all of a sudden, the priest's whole spiel sounded rather like a pyramid-scheme sales pitch.
To be fair, Evan's preaching and praise had answered some of his questions, and Mulan found it quite gratifying to hear. Any other young man would probably have been fired up by now. But Mulan had not only clawed his way out of the brutal struggle between life and death; he also had the soul of a young man from the twenty-first century. So, despite his surprise, he maintained a certain gravity of expression.
Mulan's reaction only raised him further in Evan's esteem. Surely God had guided such a rare talent to his side, and guiding the young man's growth must also be a task God had entrusted to him.
Bang...
A sudden noise outside the Holy Temple drew both Mulan's and Evan's attention.
They instinctively rose and walked to the entrance, where they discovered that the wind had grown stronger than before. The noise had come from a flowerpot blown off an upper floor of a house along the street.
While the two of them had been talking, the street outside had emptied of almost all pedestrians. The dark clouds crowding the sky made the day seem gloomier still.
"It looks like I should head home, Father Evan. It was a pleasure talking with you."
Standing at the entrance, Mulan extended his hand toward Evan. The priest was not actually accustomed to shaking hands; clergy of the Holy Temple generally avoided physical contact with believers to maintain an air of sanctity and dignity. But faced with Mulan, Evan held out his hand all the same.
"You're welcome to come and see me anytime. The doors of the Holy Temple will always be open to you, Mr. Mulan Jonester."
"I'll be coming back even if it's only for treatment."
Mulan smiled, shook Evan's hand, then released it and turned, stepping into the fierce wind without hesitation.
The wind outside was considerably stronger than it had been when he left that morning. Though it was not enough to make Mulan unsteady on his feet, he took much greater care as he walked.
There were almost no pedestrians along the way, and most of the shops lining the streets had already closed. Hanging signs swung back and forth in the wind with creaks and groans. It felt much like his hometown in his previous life just before a typhoon struck.
As he hurried along, Mulan thought over what Father Evan of the Holy Temple had said. He knew the priest was deliberately trying to guide him, but even during their conversation, Mulan had already thought of someone else: the man who had prompted him to fire at the Military Tribunal.
That man, Mulan believed, was clearly interested in him as well. And if Father Evan had given Mulan a certain sense of the supernatural, then Sir Walton had given him one far stronger.
Rather than becoming a member of the clergy, Mulan was more interested in learning what he could from Sir Walton. He had a hunch that Sir Walton would come looking for him.
As he hurried home, Mulan sometimes caught what seemed to be a murky gray tinge in the wind out of the corner of his eye. But when he looked closely, he saw nothing. Remembering Evan's warning, he immediately refocused on getting home.
Only when Mulan arrived home did Old Buck, who had been keeping an eye on the doorway, breathe a sigh of relief. The wind's sudden increase had left him worrying quite a bit about Mulan, as though he were still a child who had yet to grow up. Then he immediately began asking about Mulan's illness, leaving Mulan no choice but to tell a few kindhearted lies.
Reading the remaining newspapers, browsing the books already in the house, sitting at the dining table waiting for dinner...
"Bubble, bubble, bubble..."
The water in the kettle on the iron stove was boiling vigorously. Old Buck hurriedly rose from the table, picked up a cloth, and went to lift the kettle. Mulan watched until Old Buck had finished brewing the tea, then looked back at the meat soup and bread on the dining table before turning his gaze to the kitchen window, beyond which night seemed to have arrived early amid the howling wind.
Though Mulan had skipped lunch and his stomach was already growling, he still observed the Jonester family's etiquette and waited for his elder brother to return.
"Leo still isn't back?"
"Perhaps he's on an assignment. That happens often. Or perhaps the wind is too strong for him to get home easily. He'll be all right, young master Mulan. If you're hungry, let's eat first."
Half an hour after dinner, a teapot and some tasty little biscuits sat on the table. Old Buck was tidying the kitchen, while Mulan sat at the table toying with a Black-Stemmed, Silver-Handled Cane. A male lion baring its fangs was carved into the silver handle.
The cane had been given to him by the elderly gentleman aboard the Princess Niseriel. Afterward, the gentleman had formally presented it to Mulan as a gift, saying that in his own hands, it served only occasionally as a walking aid, whereas in Mulan's hands, it might prove far more useful.
"Click."
As Mulan gave the silver handle a slight twist, the cane let out a soft, crisp click. Then he slowly drew out a gleam of silver.
"This is a valuable sword cane. The blade and handle should be made from some kind of silver alloy, and the carving is first-rate. The outer shaft isn't wood, either. Though it's black, it seems more like a hard, bone-like material, such as tooth or horn."
The keen-eyed Old Buck needed only a few glances at the cane and a touch of his hand to offer his assessment.
"Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock..."
"I'll take a look."
A burst of urgent knocking suddenly came from the entrance. Before Old Buck could go, Mulan sheathed the sword in the cane, stood up, and went to open the door himself.
When the door opened, the person outside was not Leo, but a young man in plain clothes, hunched over and trembling slightly. Though Mulan had only met him once, he recognized him as one of the police officers who worked under Leo.
The fierce wind outside seemed to have stripped much of the warmth from the officer's body, but that was not the only reason his face was so pale.
"Hah... hh... Detective J-Jonester... he's not going to make it. You need to..."
"What?!"
"Clatter..."
Mulan's shocked cry was followed a moment later by the sound of a teapot hitting the kitchen floor.
"Where is he?"
"At... at the police station... Quick, come with me..."
Without wasting a word, Mulan took two coats from the rack beside him, threw one over his own shoulders, and tossed the other to Old Buck as he hurried over. Then he took another overcoat and handed it to the officer, who was shivering from the cold.
"Let's go. Tell me what happened on the way!"