When Sherry reached the hidden basement, she found no guards anywhere nearby. If her guess was right, they were fighting the monsters at the site of the explosion in the Holy Land.

She bent down and tapped a relatively isolated stone tile twice. The hollow response told her there was nothing beneath it.

She gripped the gap between the tiles and heaved one up. A wave of musty air rushed out from below. Sherry couldn't dodge in time and breathed in a couple of lungfuls. Her stomach lurched, and she nearly threw up the drink she'd had at lunch.

Once she'd gotten used to it a little, she looked beneath the stone tile.

It was pitch-black inside. In the dim light at the entrance, she could just make out a set of crumbling, dust-covered steps. They stretched into the endless darkness. She set her magic alight and tossed it in, but the faint flame soon dwindled to the size of a firefly, then went out in the dark.

The longer Sherry stared at the basement entrance, the more she felt as if her soul were about to be sucked inside.

She snapped her fingers, and a flame sprang to life in her palm.

She covered her nose with her clothes, glanced around, then cautiously stepped inside. Once she was all the way in, she remembered to put the stone tile back over the basement entrance.

As she walked, the firelight fell on one crawling insect after another, all living in the basement. Their bodies were a slightly transparent pale yellow. Their eyes had withered away, while their antennae and limbs were unusually long. From a distance, they looked a lot like long-legged spiders.

There probably wasn't anyone who'd like creatures like these.

Following the steps down, Sherry came upon a half-open iron door covered in rust.

Creeeak—

She gave it the slightest pull, and a shrill sound like fingernails scraping a chalkboard rang through the basement. A mass of black shapes darted from the dim yellow light and vanished into the darkness. From behind the iron door came a gust of stench, like rotting fruit.

Fortunately, she was ready for the smell. She'd pinched her nose shut before opening the door.

Holding the flame high, she used its light to see what lay beyond the iron door.

Several metal-sheened tables stood in the very center of the space, each with a candlestick set into one of its corners. Apart from those, there were a few spots of blood on the tabletops, dried so long ago that she couldn't tell how long they'd been there.

Before this basement was abandoned, Pope Morse must have taken everything inside it away.

After walking a few steps farther, Sherry saw the end of the space.

Several storage cabinets stood against the walls, their doors wide open. Some documents that hadn't been taken away still seemed to be piled inside.

She went over and rummaged through the documents, then felt a little disappointed when she realized they were just books that circulated on the market.

Then again, if these had really been research materials, why would Morse have left them here?

She casually flipped through the piled-up books. With a soft thump, a battered notebook fell to the floor and caught her eye.

She reached down to pick it up. The faded, yellowed cover bore the name “Morse,” scrawled across it.

It was the Pope's diary!

It might contain a record of the disaster in the Holy City!

Her heart racing with excitement, she opened the diary to the first page.

So much time had passed that the pages had become extremely fragile. The slightest carelessness could tear a hole in one, and some parts had already rotted away, swallowing the words Morse had written.

Even so, she could still make out the sentence Morse had written at the beginning of the diary.

【I was astonished. I never believed in love at first sight—until I saw her.】

What was this…?

She kept reading.

【She enjoys reading popular novels, and loves those absurd, extraordinary love stories. There's a special charm about her that draws my eyes to her every moment.】

【I'm sure my love at first sight isn't just lust at first sight…】

She skimmed ahead a few pages and realized this seemed to be a diary about Morse's youthful romance.

Morse was the one who'd adopted her and her younger sister. Looking at his diary, Sherry's inner gossip-lover caught fire. It was just like hearing her father talk about how he'd fallen in love with her mother in her previous life. Curiosity always made her want to stop and listen.

【She said I'd become a pillar of the Church one day, and wouldn't have time to be with her. She doesn't want that kind of future. She just wants an ordinary life—to live an ordinary life and die an ordinary death…】

Some of the pages in the middle of the diary had been neatly torn out by Morse. Most likely, things hadn't gone well in his romance, and he'd decided to rip them out.

After all, he hadn't ended up with that girl.

The love story had come to an end, and she was nearly at the end of the diary.

【This is bad. The world seems to have gone mad.】

Sherry froze, then felt a little joy well up inside her.

At last, Morse's attention had turned away from romance.

【A strange disease has recently appeared in the western part of the Santas Empire. Those who catch it constantly breathe white Mist from their mouths and noses. Anyone who comes into contact with the Mist will develop the same illness before long.】

【In the end, all the patients lose consciousness and become Mist-wreathed fiends who know only how to kill.】

【We haven't found an effective cure yet. I hope the western part of the Empire can hold out a little longer.】

White Mist disease? Sherry remembered the plague stories she'd often heard as a child.

It was an unprecedented disaster. A highly contagious, almost incurable virus swept through the world, and death was the only outcome for those infected. The population plummeted, and rumors that the apocalypse was coming spread to every corner of the world.

Only after the Gerald Spell became widespread did that plague, which might have wiped out humanity, finally ease.

【The plague has grown worse. Everyone who falls ill is quickly cremated, whether they're alive or dead… There's no other way. It's the only way we can stop the infection from spreading for now.】

【They're suffering. They don't want to die, but there's truly nothing we can do.】

【I'm sorry.】

As she read, Sherry noticed that the pages farther on had been strangely corroded. The ragged, ring-shaped holes looked like the gaping maws of filthy beasts, biting away the words Morse had written there.

But when she stared, hoping to find some trace of writing left around the holes, a sudden pang of dread made her abandon the idea at once.

A sinister, snake-like gaze seemed to cross the barrier of the Abyss and fasten itself to her from the other side of her soul. If she tried to uncover the words that had been devoured, her reason and soul would be dragged into a chaotic, lawless hell, never to escape.

The flame in her palm flickered, making the words in the notebook appear and disappear. She understood that the missing information was forbidden knowledge from the ancient gods!

She turned past the pages eaten away by the holes and, steeling herself, continued reading.

【…I've developed the Gerald Spell! What's more, there's a voice in my heart telling me that this spell can stop White Mist disease from spreading!】

【It's an absurd idea no one would understand, but… I want to test it on myself.】

【I'm a little scared. If it doesn't work, I'll end up being cremated.】

【I'll try tomorrow. I'll take today off and go sunbathe in the courtyard.】

【It's raining heavily outside. Getting my clothes soaked would be miserable, so I'll go tomorrow instead…】

【The wind knocked over the little tree I planted. I need to spend the day trying to save it, so…】

【I'll go tomorrow…】

【…】

In the basement, Morse's awkward, flimsy excuses brought a little warmth to Sherry's chilled body.

The Pope she'd remembered as so imposing had apparently been quite the witty, funny man in his younger days.