Althea kept running.
No one was chasing her, but she continued to run, unable to bring herself to look back.
Sometimes, even when you know something is utterly wrong, even when you know it will bring no benefit to yourself or anyone else, you can't help but do it to assert your stance. It's all about attitude. It's something children do, and it's what immature adults are driven to do.
Just half an hour before entering the town hall, Althea had been considering going to the ceremony, accepting the shoulder emblem, and then tearing it off when she got home—no, she would wait for her mother to see it first before making a decision. There was some reluctance in her heart, of course, but this reluctance itself was an irrational self-compulsion. However, when she found that tiny spider on a branch, this small, seed-like "reluctance" in her heart grew rapidly.
As long as it didn't touch the flesh, these types of spiders were harmless. She used a leaf to move it onto her shoulder; its light grey color matched her clothing.
From that moment on, she knew she had done wrong subconsciously. From that moment on, she could imagine how the others would react to this. Elro would be furious and likely wouldn't speak to her. Joseph would be busy trying to calm things down and wouldn't do anything to her once everyone settled. Her mother... she cut off her thoughts there, convincing herself, "I'm giving Dalia a choice. It's not my fault. If the spider bites her, it's fate, and she deserves it, just as I predicted. So, I'm not to blame." She continued to lie to herself until the falsehood had completely overtaken her mind. This was the only way liars and deceivers preserved their self-esteem. They built a second personality that didn't know guilt, while raising their tolerance for others' morals to an unrealistic level.
Now, Althea kept running, stepping over the sewage and dust beneath her feet. She recalled a time in the past when she had fled to the Westfall and hidden in a barn for several days and nights. She had been cold, hungry, and tired, beginning to long for home. That's when she started deceiving herself, thinking that it was an essential trial. Today, she had done something similar.
She understood that those spiders, once they grew, could easily paralyze an adult's heart with their venom.
However, this one was just a juvenile... the problem shouldn't be too severe.
Perhaps Dalia would only experience a momentary numbness in her fingers, like being pricked by a needle.
But who could guarantee what would really happen?
If the situation turned out to be severe... should Dalia be treated that way?
She was part of the MI7, but she hadn't really done anything. She... was very friendly. To both me and my mother.
Althea found herself unable to shake these questions from her mind. She was contemplating the possible consequences.
A deceiver who starts to worry about the consequences has already surrendered their deceitful mind. The senseless triumphs were gone, replaced by panic. She still wouldn't admit her mistake publicly, but she couldn't hide her fear. She was afraid of Elro, afraid of Joseph, afraid of the Night's Watch, afraid of Jorgen, afraid of Morticia finding out. No one would cover for her.
She turned a corner into a small alley, cried for a little while, then walked out. It was then that she heard the familiar barking. Pick ran from not far away to her feet.
The dog was getting skinnier and dirtier. Althea picked it up, the protruding bones and matted fur causing her pain. Pick tried to lick her face, but she pushed its head aside because it smelled too bad. Even though Pick was dirty and stinky, she didn't dislike it, because there was always something about its eyes that attracted her.
At that moment, Abercrombie approached with a stick.
"Put it down, Miss Althea," he said. "It's filthy."
"Are you intentionally starving it?" Althea asked. "It will die if it keeps getting thinner like this."
"No, it's always been like this, can't put on any weight. I've been feeding it good bones, the bones from the soup Eliza makes. It's just naturally skinny, I can't help it."
Althea stared at Abercrombie for a moment, then slowly put Pick down, being careful to let the leg that was in better shape touch the ground first. Once it was standing, Althea noticed that her chest and arms, where she had touched Pick's body, were stained with some blood.
"What's wrong with you?" She bent down quickly, trying to lift Pick's front leg to inspect it, but Abercrombie brushed it with his stick, sending it back to his side.
"We need to go home, Miss Althea," he said, turning to leave.
"Wait. It's bleeding! You..."
Althea reached out and grabbed the edge of Abercrombie's robe. Based on past experience, she expected the old man to pull away with a look of embarrassment, apologize profusely, and leave. However, Abercrombie turned and swung the stick, hitting her hand on the back. Althea stepped back, clutching her hand.
"Don't follow, Miss Althea," Abercrombie said. "Pick has some issues... he's always had them. But I'm thinking of getting him treated. I didn't have the money before, but I do now, so I can get him treated. Once he's better, he won't always be so dirty and smelly. He'll be lively. You have to wait... Pick, go back. Come back with me."
Althea stood still. Her hand was bleeding; in her field of vision, the old man and the lame mutt slowly disappeared together. She never expected Abercrombie, who had always been submissive, to strike her with a stick. Not long ago, she had effortlessly knocked down Bower, from the moment she decided to act to the end, without a moment of hesitation. But now, faced with Abercrombie's unexpected blow, she had no thought of counterattack. She stood there motionless, like a weak child who had never dared to harm others, letting the blood drip from her hand.
She didn't understand how all of this had happened.
When Morticia entered the gate, she almost stumbled. A servant quickly steadied her.
"Madam, please, take it slow," the servant said.
But Morticia quickened her pace instead. She knew where the infirmary was and could find it on her own even without guidance. The servant had to keep up with her.
Ten minutes ago, she had heard that Althea had brought a small venomous spider and it had bitten Dalia. If this was a prank, it had clearly gone too far. Although Althea had run away, the entire town was now under lockdown, and Morticia wasn't too worried about her whereabouts. She was worried about Dalia. She was well aware of the consequences of letting a venomous spider from the Twilight Forest, even if it was just a spiderling, bite someone. Through their meeting yesterday, Morticia had developed enough goodwill towards Dalia. For the first time, she had encountered a noblewoman who treated her, a blind person, without any prejudice or differential treatment. Now, the remorse that sprang from this goodwill compelled her to quicken her steps.
After passing two corners and walking about twenty steps down the corridor, Morticia knew she was standing in front of the infirmary. She was about to knock, but a voice beside her said, "Don't disturb her."
Jorgen stood by the door. At first, Morticia hadn't noticed his presence, but now it took her a few seconds to align the sudden voice with the impression in her mind represented by the name "Jorgen."
She lowered her hand, which was about to knock on the door, and asked him, "How is Mrs. Dalia?"
"I said, don't disturb her."
Morticia fell silent. Jorgen's tone frightened her, like a still dune in the desert. She bit her lip, and her heart began to race.
After Althea ran away, the most bewildered person in the hall was Elro. He remained clueless about why everyone was panicking until Joseph reminded him to quickly fetch the doctor. Dalia was just standing there before the venom took effect, not understanding why everyone was so alarmed. When Jorgen came to support her, she was still saying, "I'm fine. Just a little scratch. Go find Althea quickly..."
"Let her lie down and don't move," Joseph shouted at Jorgen as he arranged for the Night Watch to leave, "or the toxin will spread."
"Toxin?" Dalia said. "What is he talking about?"
Even though she didn't quite understand Joseph's meaning, she was getting frightened, so she obediently lay down. By the time the doctor arrived with a first aid kit a few minutes later, she was trembling uncontrollably, unable to speak, her breath coming in fits and starts as if it were rising from the bottom of a collapsed pit. The fingers bitten by the spider had developed black and yellowish blotches.
Jorgen wasn't sure what he could do. He had received training on dealing with poisonings, but he couldn't identify Dalia's symptoms, let alone discuss a course of action. This was where the situation transitioned into the realm of Darkshire Town. Now, the doctor was inside observing Dalia's condition. To avoid being in the way, Jorgen could only step outside and act as a guard. That was all he could do now.
"I...," Morticia started but then hesitated.
"Come here for a moment," Jorgen grabbed her hand and pulled her to the other end of the corridor.
"What are you going to do to the lady?" Morticia's servant wanted to follow, but when Jorgen turned to look at him, he stopped in his tracks.
Once he had brought Morticia to the end of the corridor, Jorgen released her hand and said, "Tell me, why does Althea hate the MI7 so much?"
"Because, she... perhaps, it's not exactly 'hate'..."
"That's hate," Jorgen interrupted, lowering his voice. "The situation with Gondore alone can't explain it. She hates the MI7, hates it to the core, otherwise she wouldn't do something like this to Dalia. Dalia hasn't done anything to her."
Morticia remained silent. When Jorgen emphasized, "Answer me," her shoulders quivered slightly.
"I'm very sorry, I..." Morticia seemed about to say something but then quickly changed her mind, uttering a few syllables that didn't form any meaningful words.
"I'll ask her myself then. Since you don't intend to help, I'll have to handle it my way," Jorgen said, turning to leave. But Morticia stopped him.
"What?" He looked at the blind woman's face. At this moment, Morticia, like a person sailing alone in a small boat in the middle of a sea where a storm was about to hit, had almost no hope of returning safely, no matter how she chose to proceed.
"That child... has been through some things. She should be the one to tell her story. If you're going to question her, please let me stay with her. Will you agree to that?"