[18:10]
In a poverty-stricken urban area.
A large open space was bustling with people distributing charitable dinners and corresponding winter clothing.
As winter approached, this act of kindness left a lasting impression on many, marked by the name on the vehicle:
[Pluto Church]
"Thank you for your help, Sister."
At the various points where charitable dinners were distributed, a nun dressed in black was always the most popular figure.
A middle-aged man with a pale and weak complexion gratefully accepted the food offered to him: "Your kindness brings warmth and hope. Without it, I don't know how I'd survive tonight."
"You're welcome, it's our duty," Sister Eileen replied gently.
"We all hope that everyone can feel the warmth and hope brought by God."
The man took note of the slogan on the vehicle and nodded his thanks.
Sister Eileen smiled warmly, watched the man leave with his meal, and picked up another simple boxed dinner to hand out.
The meals were abundant yet economical: a piece of roast chicken with some vegetables and rice.
Considering the cost-effectiveness, these meals made the most of every dollar spent.
"Hello, welcome to the Pluto Church's charitable dinner distribution point."
As the next person approached, Sister Eileen once again mentioned the Pluto Church before handing over the boxed dinner.
However, the man, who appeared impoverished and down-and-out, shook his head.
"Sister, could you listen to a story of mine? I need someone to talk to."
Sister Eileen was momentarily taken aback.
The man, with a dirty and haggard appearance and dark circles under his eyes, explained: "Due to certain circumstances, I can't just talk to anyone, and I'm not religious, so I can't go to a priest. I heard about a very kind nun here, so I came specifically to talk to you..."
He looked at the stunned nun, his expression numb and desperate: "I have nowhere else to go. If I don't talk to someone, I don't know how I'll get through tonight."
Sister Eileen looked at the man seriously. From his words and appearance, she saw someone seemingly at the end of his rope.
She thought for a moment and said, "Wait a moment." She turned to call Liz Murphy, who was busy with other tasks.
"Liz."
Liz Murphy, just taking out a bunch of old clothes from the car, turned at the sound and walked over after placing the clothes in a designated spot.
"Sister Eileen, what can I do for you?"
Liz glanced at the man in front of the table.
Sister Eileen replied, "Can you watch this area for me?"
Liz nodded: "Of course." She glanced again at the man, whose pervasive despair reminded her of when she learned of her mother's death.
With Liz covering for her, Sister Eileen gestured to the man: "Come, let's talk over there."
"Thank you so much," the man said gratefully.
They followed Sister Eileen to a table and chairs near the car and began their conversation.
"May I know your name?" Sister Eileen asked, looking at the man calmly. In the convent, she often listened to people's confessions, a necessary part of her duties.
"My name is Lester Billings," the man replied numbly.
Sister Eileen nodded, "Mr. Lester, what would you like to talk about? As a clergy member, I'll keep your secrets."
Lester was silent for a moment: "Everyone thinks I did it."
"What do they think you did?" Sister Eileen asked.
If York were here, he would see another side of his devoted nun. The seemingly naive nun was actually quite mature in these moments.
"Like killing my children," Lester said calmly, looking directly at the nun.
"One by one, all of them."
Succinct and to the point, Sister Eileen tensed inwardly but kept a calm exterior, like a true listener.
"I came to you because I think only a clergy member would understand and not think I'm insane."
Lester's hands shook as if recalling something.
"You're so kind; you must understand what it feels like to suddenly lose someone dear."
Sister Eileen sensed there was more to the story: "So what happened to your children?"
Lester clenched his hands: "The first, my baby girl, died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome."
Sister Eileen solemnly made the sign of the cross: "My condolences."
But Lester shook his head, lost in memories, and continued: "I thought it was an accident, a punishment from God. But when my other two died within a year, I realized it was no accident."
Sister Eileen's brows furrowed slightly: "Mr. Lester, are you suggesting these were not natural causes?"
"Not natural at all." Lester nodded, his expression unchanged but his eyes shedding tears.
"Their life was drained from them."
Amidst his calm demeanor, the suppressed pain resonated with Sister Eileen, who nevertheless sensed an undertone in his story.
"Was it something else?"
Lester replied calmly: "Yes, but no one believed me. They all think I did it."
He looked at the nun: "I only caught a glimpse of it once, before my daughter Annie's neck was broken. They did tell me about it before they died, but I thought they were just imaginative."
At this point, Sister Eileen saw Lester's previously calm expression turn to agony as he took out a folded paper from his pocket.
"Even my eldest daughter drew it for me."
Sister Eileen silently took the paper and unfolded it under his gaze.
The drawing was crude: a dark background filled with black strokes and in the center, a spider-like humanoid figure with bent limbs and a ferocious face.
Simple and without detail, yet Sister Eileen felt a chill rise from within.
"My eldest daughter's drawing is similar to what I saw. I regret not believing her then," Lester said calmly, watching the nun.
"You believe me, don't you?"
Sister Eileen looked up from the drawing: "Of course, and I'd like to bring my priest to see this."
Lester was taken aback, not expecting this development from just seeking someone to talk to.
"Mr. Lester, there are indeed monsters in this world," Sister Eileen sighed.
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