Chapter 32: The Beautiful Ms. Doll

...

The thick white fog obscured all traces of nearby human activity, outlining the town ahead with a ghostly, blurred silhouette. If one looked beyond a few dozen meters, only the dark sky above could be vaguely discerned; everything else was indistinct.

The towering spire of the clock tower was barely visible, reminiscent of a gallow erected by the roadside during wartime. The black-painted street lamps emitted a dim, somber light, casting the streets below in a ghostly green hue. This light seemed to ripple like silk in the fog, making the walls appear like wrinkled skin shed by green lizards.

The fog seemed to narrow the streets, or perhaps the streets were naturally narrow—they twisted and tangled like a messy ball of yarn, yet each was a desolate, aging alley.

The entire town resembled a giant bird's nest, or an ant hill dug out of the ground, or even more than that. As Salser and his companions observed, the different streets and alleys were each a unique, distorted puzzle, constructed from spaces and walls that seemed to come from different otherworldly realms, as if many bizarre dreams had been piled together. This place was imbued with an inexplicable stillness and absurdity, unimaginable to those with rational minds—a bizarre entity lacking logic and structure.

If one looked up above the streets, countless intertwined streets of varying angles and styles stretched upwards, like countless praying hands reaching towards the sky. These streets were not densely packed at the town entrance, but as they ventured deeper, turning and winding through the town, while the sky above was gradually obscured by the streets overhead. It was as if many different cities had been dismantled piece by piece, their fragments replaced, moved, inverted, and then randomly stacked and interlocked.

If one looked down, at their feet, they could also see randomly placed street entrances: some with arches, some with spiral staircases, and others with slanted wooden handrails, each differing in depth, length, width, and design, yet all ending in swirling fog—undoubtedly leading to another street with an otherworldly style.

Astolfo's curiosity seemed to be more than satisfied.

Perhaps only he could be happy here, Salser thought. He casually followed Astolfo, who was exploring the town as if strolling through a market, while Jeanne walked alongside him, her indifferent gaze sweeping over the incongruous arches and staircases on the street, some leading up, others down. Shadowy corridors quietly enveloped them, and although the thick fog slowly swirled, the streets themselves seemed to carry an eternal, unchanging stillness.

Is it safe here?

Who knows.

Is it dangerous?

Who knows.

Although Salser was preoccupied with thoughts, he couldn't help but immerse himself in the relaxing atmosphere. For someone who had been on the run for over seven years, such an environment held an extraordinary allure.

The tranquil night pressed its motherly hand to the ground, dark, lonely yet peaceful and comfortable. The street lamps crackled softly, the rain blocked by the overhead streets, with only a few droplets quietly flowing down the walls, much like silent tears of a lovelorn young girl.

"Come and see this!" Astolfo suddenly exclaimed.

Salser's attention was awakened. He tapped his head, forced himself to focus, then placed a hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder, shaking Jeanne, who also seemed a bit dazed.

"...I feel like I'm about to fall asleep while standing up," Jeanne slowly exhaled, not minding the hand on her shoulder, "This place feels really strange," she said, somewhat puzzled, shaking her head, "I wonder what would happen if I fell asleep in a dream."

"The one in front seems quite energetic."

"...Is that fellow even human?" Jeanne forced herself to focus. She raised both hands to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ears, then followed Salser's steps to approach Astolfo, asking casually, "Or is she actually a wind-up toy—as long as the spring is turning, she'll always be energetic?"

"Are you saying your spring is about to break?"

"It's already broken."

She replied lazily, looking too tired to bicker with the Dark wizard.

The blue, dim road was lit only by the old street lamp—the only source of light on the street.

Astolfo stood under the street lamp, facing an old wall. A large poster was stuck to the wall, looking aged, dry, yellow, and mostly peeled off, as if time's hand was slowly tearing it away from the wall.

Astolfo, being not tall, had to stand on tiptoe to barely reach the thing, and it was quite a struggle. He jumped up and down, like a child trying to reach a toy accidentally thrown onto a tree branch. Salser walked up behind him, pressing down on the peeling corner of the paper, spreading the poster flat against the wall.

It was quite dark here, with no view of the sky, only streets of varying heights crisscrossing each other. Part of the poster was blurred and unreadable, while another part was written in large characters. With the light from the street lamp, it could be read with some effort.

Salser read aloud:

What can be gained by delaying me here?

Even if you kill or cripple me,

You won't get the beautiful woman,

For by the time we hesitate, she has vanished,

If you love her too,

Best to set off at once,

Seize her before she's far away,

And capture her.

Once she's in our hands,

We'll raise our swords to decide life and death.

Ah, my beautiful Ms. Doll.

I don't know if you've gone here or there,

Both paths bear your traces,

I don't want to leave the judgment to fate,

So I'll lay out these streets here,

Where we’ve lost your trail,

To ensure you can never leave this place.

Beautiful maiden,

You'll wander here and there,

Until you return to the starting point, to where I am.

—(Signature) Sassou Prinn

Below this signature was a small line written in another language.

Salser casually moved Astolfo's head blocking the small line and leaned in to look at it for a moment.

"Te Deum laudamus."

"What does that mean?" Jeanne asked the Dark wizard.

"Praise the gods—"

Astolfo answered the question on behalf of Salser, "‘Te Deum laudamus’ in Latin means 'Praise the gods'."

"You even know that?" Salser glanced at him.

"Well, during my travels, all sorts of things happen," he said, propping his left arm against his chest and lightly tapping his cheek with his index finger, "So I've learned a lot, like languages of various countries and ethnic groups, skin care, surviving in the wild... Oh, and I'm also very good at cooking, whether at home or camping, I'm very confident in my chef skills! If there's a chance, I'll invite you to try it, please don't refuse!"

"If there's a chance," Salser nodded casually.

Then, Astolfo turned his gaze to Jeanne.

"...Why are you looking at me?"

"Well..."

"Alright, alright, if there's a chance," Jeanne said impatiently, waving her hand at him.

Astolfo breathed a sigh of relief, as conversing with Jeanne seemed quite challenging for him. If not for considering himself recently friends with the knight, and Jeanne being a friend of a friend, he would not have chosen to talk to this woman.

"What do you think this means?" Salser pointed at the poster on the wall.

"Hmm—ah..."

Astolfo tilted his head, hesitated for a moment, then clapped his hands in sudden realization, answering him, "If it's about the doll, I saw a very tall, extremely tall woman praying at a grave on the first night of my dream," he said, raising his right hand to gesture upwards, "Her joints seemed like those of a doll."

Author’s note:

The content of the poster is adapted from "Orlando Furioso," with some modifications.

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