"Hello, Ms. Camille, I've been to Romania these past few days," York looked towards the elderly faithful and major donor, Ms. Camille, who was sitting next to him and often visited the Pluto Church.
Her attire today seemed simple and neat, yet the quality of her clothing, evident to his eyes, undoubtedly spoke of its high cost.
Here was a wealthy, perhaps also influential, elderly believer. Though she ran a free food truck, serving meals everywhere as part of charity donation events, the ability to host such events where affluent individuals could socialize was not something just any wealthy person could do.
If this were his previous life, he, as a priest, might have been considered lesser. But in this extraordinary parallel world, he seemed even more formidable.
"Romania?"
Ms. Camille, of middle age, raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Yes," York smiled, "I was on a mission, so I had to travel."
Ms. Camille's face showed envy. "I've heard that Rome is a beautiful country with museums everywhere. I haven't been there yet."
Observing Ms. Camille's suddenly somber mood, York maintained his smile.
"It is indeed beautiful. Romania is a country worth visiting. When you have time, you might want to go there with your family."
At these words, Ms. Camille pursed her lips and shook her head, her voice low and melancholic.
"I might not be able to go, Father. I've been busy with my child Bellamy's matters recently."
"Bellamy?"
York was surprised. Ms. Camille was a single parent with an elder son, Saxon, and a younger daughter, Bellamy. Compared to Saxon, who was already grown up, Bellamy was only about eight or nine years old.
Recalling the little girl Ms. Camille used to bring along, York looked at the somewhat weary Ms. Camille and continued.
"Ms. Camille, what happened to Bellamy?"
Perhaps because it was about her daughter, Ms. Camille didn't respond but closed and then reopened her eyes, staring blankly into space. Her voice, seemingly calm but barely audible to others, was clear and slightly trembling to York.
"Bellamy... my poor child..."
York narrowed his eyes, waiting quietly without pressing further. Having been a priest for many years, he knew believers would naturally provide answers when ready.
His role as a priest was destined to be the best listener and guide.
It didn't take long for Ms. Camille to respond, mentioning recent issues with Bellamy sleepwalking, leading doctors to suspect she might have a mental illness.
However, remembering the little girl's condition, York's eyes flickered with doubt. If Bellamy had a mental illness, he, a priest skilled in identifying such conditions or demonic possessions, would have noticed earlier.
"Ms. Camille, can you tell me more about Bellamy's situation? If you're comfortable..."
"Of course, Father." Ms. Camille managed a weak smile, then shared recent events.
"I don't know when it started, but there have been noises coming from Bellamy's room. I suspected she wasn't sleeping well. As a mother, I asked her what she was doing up every night, but she insisted she was sleeping soundly..."
York's expression remained unchanged, his left hand unconsciously stroking the Bible.
"So, you suspect Bellamy has somnambulism?"
"Yes, I took her to the hospital to check if it was indeed sleepwalking,
At first, all tests were normal, but when the doctor personally examined her and asked questions, she suddenly changed, spewing vulgar language and exhibiting extremely uncoordinated movements..."
York's face still showed no reaction. "So, the doctor's final diagnosis is that Bellamy might have a mental illness?"
"Yes," Ms. Camille continued, "He suspects it might be severe depression."
York frowned.
Noticing his expression, Ms. Camille's face showed despair.
"I know you might find it unbelievable, Father. I feel the same; I can't imagine Bellamy being depressed,
But the doctor mentioned it might be related to her father, I..."
Hearing this, York didn't know what to say. The doctor's judgment seemed not unfounded, especially considering Ms. Camille's status; it was unlikely for a doctor to make such a statement without considering all factors.
"May God bless Bellamy," York sighed, passing his cross to her.
"Please give my cross to Bellamy, for it represents my wishes."
With that, York spoke gently, "I will pray to God for Bellamy, wishing her health and growth."
Moved, Ms. Camille accepted the cross,
"Thank you! Thank you, Father!"
...
Ms. Camille promised to bring Bellamy next time, leaving contentedly, while York remained seated, pondering the conversation.
"It might not be as I thought."
Shaking his head, York stood up, glanced at the church, now less crowded due to Eileen's charity event, and thought,
"This is just as well..."
Leaving those words behind, York returned to his small room to continue enchanting new ammunition and grenades with a double buff.
Preparing for the future, he amassed a whole arsenal, relying on his conscientious effort.
Without pre-enchanted ammunition and holy water, his limited mental and magical energy would be quickly depleted in battle, leaving him vulnerable.
Too risky!
York picked up a grenade, imbuing it with a double buff through a mere thought.
[Used 10 points of holy power]
[Used 10 points of magic power]
[...]
Despite the drain on his spiritual and magical energy, he would continue his priestly duties, teaching classes, listening to believers' woes, and guiding the lost.
His routine was interrupted by Jeffrey and Bridget's arrival, reminding him of the funeral ceremony for the many lonely, family-less deceased of Reed Apartment Building.
With a beginning and an end,
Although large paranormal events were handled by official organizations, it was the priest's role to perform the final rites, preferably for his own congregation.
But with many tenants dead in Reed Apartments, unlike those in Jessie Building who had families, many residents died alone, unremembered.
"Father!"
Bridget ran towards him with open arms.
As she attempted to hug him, York used his arm's length to keep her at bay, then turned to Jeffrey, holding Bridget's sister, Casey.
"Are you all prepared?"
"Yes, Father."
Jeffrey, looking much refreshed, nodded.
"Everyone has been arranged at Nas Cemetery."
Remembering the painful deaths in Reed Apartment's corridors, York sighed.
"Then let's go."
...
As the month ends, despite the poor writing and updates, I humbly ask for your votes (awkward smile).
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