The night was deep and silent. After checking all the rooms, the nun slowly walked back to her own.
Along the way, she watched the dark, quiet courtyard. Shadows flickered under the dim lights like a thread about to snap.
It was another bitter winter. she wondered how much food was left in the warehouse...
Creak...
The nun pushed open the door to her room—a tidy, sparse bedroom, as plain as those of any other devout believer. As she reached the window to close it, a thought suddenly struck her.
Had she opened the window today?
"Don't move."
A cold voice rang out from the darkness. Simultaneously, a hard object pressed against her waist.
Having never left Sundown Alley since childhood, the nun was well-versed in its chaos. She immediately realized what was at her waist, but her expression remained unchanged—indifferent and silent.
"..."
"..."
Neither side spoke at first. The person behind her was observing her; the nun was waiting for the person to speak. If it were a simple case of someone driven to desperation, she wouldn't mind helping someone who had resorted to robbery out of necessity.
But in Sundown Alley, would a person with a gun truly be without options?
It would take some time for the other staff members of the sanitarium to reach this place. Her room was situated differently from the others, located in a remote corner.
After a long pause, during which the man seemed to have finally finished scrutinizing her appearance, he tossed a photograph onto the table in front of her. Keeping the handgun pressed against her waist, he asked coldly, "Do you recognize this person?"
The nun's gaze fell on the photo. It was a man in a suit whose smile gave off a very uncomfortable feeling. She searched her memory but had no impression of him, so she shook her head.
"...Really?"
The nun seemed to hear a faint sound of some mechanical device activating, and then a faint, eerie blue light lit up behind her.
She shook her head again. She had no reason to lie.
Another agonizing silence followed. Was the man checking to see if she was lying? He was so blunt with his questioning; if she were to lie, how could he judge if it were the truth?
His breathing was steady. The nun had rarely heard anyone whose breathing was so even, as if every breath were specifically set to the same duration and intensity.
Finally, the man reached out, pinched the photo, and prepared to take it back.
At that moment, the night clouds dispersed, and the bright, white moon revealed half its face, casting clear moonlight across the table.
She saw the hand holding the photo—a well-proportioned, powerful arm clad in a glove, covered with strange bits of metal. It didn't look at all like the scrawny, withered appearance typical of the people in Sundown Alley.
"May I ask... who are you?"
It was the first time the nun had spoken since entering the room. Her voice was ethereal and melodious; though her tone was plain, it brought peace to the mind.
"..." The man was under no obligation to answer her. In fact, he was only there to execute a mission and would not contact unrelated personnel unless necessary.
"Are you investigating something? Could you tell me, without disturbing the children and the others? Please?" The nun's voice seemed to possess a certain magic that made one want to keep listening, drawing one in unconsciously.
The man didn't speak. He wouldn't trust her just because of a few words; there were many who were trained to bypass polygraphs. Everything had to be judged according to the actual situation.
Of course, he had his own judgment.
"Do you know who the people you've taken in are?"
The nun hesitated. She didn't know if the man was referring to the identities of the people she took in or the diseases they carried. But the man offered no explanation; he simply waited for her answer.
After a long while, the nun slowly parted her lips. "Some... poor souls."
"..."
The man's attitude was unpredictable. The cold aura he emitted from time to time made one shiver in the freezing weather. A certain quality, alien to ordinary people and impossible to belong to the normal world, lingered about him.
The man's sharp gaze cut through the moonlight. "Seven years ago, someone sponsored this sanitarium, funded the repair of equipment and the building, and bought some real estate in Sundown Alley. Do you know about this?"
This time, the nun answered without hesitation.
"I... I know."
"..."
"I was at the sanitarium at that time. We received a donation from an anonymous person. The letter said the money could only be used for the operation of the sanitarium itself. Back then, we were going through a very difficult period, so that money solved our urgent crisis." The nun recalled the situation. "I looked for that person afterward, but found nothing. Do you know where he is?"
Hearing the man say the mysterious person had purchased real estate in Sundown Alley, was he still there?
"...He's dead."
The pressure of the gun vanished from her waist. However, the nun did not turn around or run. Instead, she folded her hands and began to pray softly.
"What are you doing?" The man was puzzled by her actions.
With her eyes closed, facing the white moon, her long light-brown hair spilled out from under her white veil. "I am praying for him. May his soul find rest."
The man gazed at the nun's flawless, pious prayer in the moonlight and closed his eyes, exhaling softly.
He didn't say what that man had done. That person was not a charitable man at all...
But that didn't matter, did it? The nun only needed to know that someone had once helped them. As for why that person chose to help, it was irrelevant.
"Is the direction of your sect's prayer toward the West?"
The man noticed the characteristics of her habit and asked with some confusion.
For sects and believers, the direction of prayer was particularly important. It signified where their faith lay and the place of the God from whom they hoped to receive a response.
"No... I have never joined any sect."
Never joined a sect?
And yet so pious, as if untouched by any speck of dust.
In the quiet room, the nun chanted for the deceased under the moonlight, while the man sheathed his handgun, watching everything in silence.
After offering rest to the dead, the nun stood up and turned around. The man had already vanished, leaving only the open window and the bright white moon still speaking of something...
A person who is not bad.
The nun formed an evaluation of this man who was investigating something upon their first meeting.
...
The man hid in the shadows, listening to the footsteps grow distant before quickly leaping out of the sanitarium and heading toward his base.
The sanitarium and the nun still required further investigation. The nun might be unrelated, but the sanitarium itself could have additional connections to the Chairman.
And...
The man looked back at the sanitarium as it grew more distant.
Someone had noticed his intrusion.