The word "Bishop" alone might not seem like much, but when broken down into its specific ranks, it becomes clear how significant the position is.
Although the Church in this parallel world was vastly different from the one in his previous life, its hierarchy and roles were largely similar.
The Church was divided into the Sacred Order and the Jurisdictional Order.
The Sacred Order consisted of only three main categories: Bishops, Priests, and Deacons. These were the formal members of the Church who could possess the power of faith. Just as faith knows no rank, everyone within the Sacred Order was a clergyman, but their level of authority was further refined by the Jurisdictional Order.
At the top was, naturally, God. Below Him was the Pope, the White-Robed Bishop whom he had spoken with on the phone; to illustrate his power, he was roughly equivalent to a sovereign ruler of a confederation of states.
Below the Pope was the highest-ranking Arch-Chancellor Deacon of the Black Robe, who took care of the Pope's daily life and had the right to approve documents and read out decrees—a position roughly equivalent to a Prime Minister or a Crown Prince.
Below the Black-Robed Archbishops were the Cardinals, also known as Cardinal Bishops, who headed major dioceses. Their status was roughly equivalent to that of a Cabinet Minister; appointed by the Pope, they assisted him in handling affairs.
The college formed by the Cardinals served as the Cabinet and held the right to elect the Pope.
Below the Cardinals were the Patriarchs, the specific heads of major dioceses, whose power could be seen as that of powerful feudal lords.
Below them were the Metropolitan Archbishops who assisted the Patriarchs in managing the dioceses.
Next, within the dioceses, were the Primates who governed several ecclesiastical provinces, and the Metropolitans who managed the provincial capitals within those provinces.
Then there were the Archbishops who governed an entire province, and the Diocesan Bishops below them, who were roughly equivalent to mayors.
And the man before him was at the level of an Archbishop, which could be considered a position of great power and high status.
He was dressed in a vest and jeans, with a pipe in his mouth looking exceptionally carefree; in short, he was a far cry from the serious-faced man in his memories.
"Speak up, what brings you here this time?" Unaware of what York was thinking, Old Mike tapped his pipe, took a puff, blew a smoke ring, and spoke.
"I don't believe for a second that you just came here to visit me."
Looking at the carefree old man who had started to let himself go, York smiled and spoke directly.
"I want you to help me look into someone."
As soon as those words were spoken, a mocking "I knew it" look appeared in Old Mike's eyes.
"Ahem."
York gave a dry cough, then took the documents he had originally obtained from St. Luz Church out of his bag again and handed them to Old Mike.
This was his plan all along, to follow the trail step by step.
Before heading to St. Luz Church, he had already prepared for the possibility that the person involved might be dead. If they were, he would use his own channels to find out the most important place they had visited before coming to America.
If it were just something within America, he could have Hanna look into it and she'd likely find it, but with her capabilities, she probably couldn't get such detailed information from a foreign country because she didn't know exactly where supernatural events had occurred. However, the Church could... Old Mike took the documents, flipped through them briefly, and finally stopped at the photo of Falanci Renqi's death. The blood all over his body and the dense wounds went without saying, but the primary cause of death was a metal skewer that had pierced through his eyeball to the back of his head.
"An evil spirit?"
Recalling the ominous aura on Lorraine, York shook his head and said calmly.
"I'm afraid it's not as simple as an evil spirit."
Old Mike continued flipping through, his tone involuntarily rising.
"Then it's a demon."
York's expression remained unchanged. "Yes."
Old Mike stopped his movements, glanced up at the tall, sturdy priest whose expression hadn't changed at all, and sighed inwardly.
"Alright, since it's a demon, I'll look into it for you."
"Good."
Sensing the change in Old Mike, York smiled dismissively, picked up his backpack, and looked at the lump of flesh beside him to change the subject.
"So, what exactly are you researching?"
Old Mike silently put away the documents. "You know about Vampires, right?"
"Vampires?" York's eyebrows shot up. How could he not know? In his previous life, he had seen so many movies and TV shows about Vampires, even Twilight, which he'd compare to films like Tiny Times.
"Yes," Old Mike said nonchalantly. "My recent research topic is why Vampires recover so quickly when they seemingly look no different from humans."
York's lips twitched. This kind of in-depth research wasn't for him; he was only suited for the superficial stuff.
But since the topic had come to this, York slung on his backpack and casually mentioned a cool young man who rode a Harley-Davidson all day.
"Hili got this for you, didn't he?"
Hili, the old man's son. Occupation: a registered exorcist. He ran around everywhere, claiming to be a messenger of justice protecting the world, but the truth was he just found life boring and sought excitement.
He was like those trust-fund kids who looked for thrills through extreme sports.
If anyone could mess around with the old man in front of him, it was probably only that young fellow Hili.
Perhaps because his son was mentioned, a smile appeared on Old Mike's face, and he nodded.
"Yeah, he just sent it over yesterday."
"Alright."
York glanced at the lump of flesh under the microscope again. To be honest, he was also quite curious about the Vampires of this parallel world.
After all, in his previous life, he had always heard about how handsome and beautiful the Vampire nobility were, radiating aristocratic elegance.
He was curious if it was the same in this parallel world.
"Eh? What, you're interested too?" There was a hint of encouragement in Old Mike's eyes. "I know you're smart. If you could research this with me and figure it out, we might even win an award, like a Nobel Prize..."
"Nobel? That prize is useless to me." York withdrew his gaze, immediately refused, and started to walk away.
"There's only one thing that's useful to me."
Old Mike leaned down, propping himself up with one hand, took a puff from his pipe, blew a smoke ring, and looked at the receding tall, sturdy figure.
"What's that?"
York stopped at the door, looked back at the lazy old man, and smiled. "Tell Hili for me that the account is still the same one, and remind him to send me the money."
Hearing this, Old Mike waved his hand impatiently; he wasn't about to let his son be fleeced.
"Get out, get out! Get out of here."
"Heh." York shrugged, laughed, opened the door, and left the area.
Click! The sound of the door closing echoed.
Old Mike glanced at the closed door, then at the documents on the table. He was silent for a moment before finally sighing.
"Sigh, this kid really is..."
His voice trailed off, filled with emotion.