Andoain, having already guessed the fate of those few mercenaries, did not dare linger. He led his followers through the most secluded paths, making a hasty retreat from the vicinity of the Basilica. He knew all too well that even if the Pope had spared him this time, it didn't mean there would be a next.
Though "The Law" acknowledged his potential to carve a new path for the future of the Sankta, it was currently just that—a potential. The Pope would not openly dismantle the laws of Laterano for his sake.
"That was truly a close call. Fortunately, your old teammate didn't open fire while we were escaping, or we wouldn't have made it out so smoothly," Patia remarked with a sigh of relief once they reached a safe distance. The operation had been incredibly dangerous, especially with a sniper in play.
She remembered that pink-haired Sankta could win a shooting competition gold medal even if she were blindfolded. Had that woman chosen to fire during their retreat, at least half of them would have fallen to her rifle. That was exactly why the Sankta in their group had run on the outermost perimeter—they were using the threat of "Falling" as a shield. It was despicable, but effective.
"Sniper? My teammate?" Andoain was momentarily dazed. Had this child remembered something wrong? How could that sniper be his teammate? Lemuen had only regained consciousness a few years ago; after lying still for so long, she shouldn't even be able to walk, let alone perform elite sharpshooting.
Patia saw Andoain's confusion and quickly explained: "Did you forget? The pink-haired Sankta from your old squad! I clearly remember running into her on the street."
Andoain's expression shifted through several colors. He recalled his recent meeting with Lemuen and realized there were indeed many inconsistencies he hadn't paid attention to at the time. Now that he thought about it... had she fully recovered?
No, he had to see for himself.
"It seems we can no longer stay in Laterano, and the Cathedral of Requiem is no longer safe. Patia, take the others to our old spot outside the city and wait for me. I'm going out for a moment; we'll regroup then."
With that, Andoain dragged his battered, aching body toward the sanatorium. Once he left this time, the chance of him ever returning to this city was virtually zero. He had to witness the truth with his own eyes. While the Apostolic Knights were still preoccupied near the Basilica, he would use his own eyes to confirm it.
Meanwhile, Fiammetta looked at the ground that had been cratered by the revolving firearm and the unrecognizable remains of the Sarkaz. She remained silent for a long time. What baffled her wasn't that Andoain had slipped through her fingers again, but why these Sarkaz would throw away their lives just to help a man like him escape.
"If you can't figure it out, don't dwell on it. There are too many strange things happening every day; if you tried to think through all of them, you'd never have a life."
A tall Sankta—her grandfather—spoke up to comfort the brooding Fiammetta. Though he wanted to chat more with his granddaughter, the current situation didn't allow it. Even if they had only bombed a construction site, Andoain and his "little friends" had gone too far today. Even if just for show, the Apostolic Knights and the Notarial Hall had to send people out for a massive search.
"We'll talk more when you get back! I have to head out now. But I have to say, little Fi, seeing you let Andoain go because of that threat... I'm actually quite relieved."
The Apostolic Knight vanished as quickly as he'd appeared. From the way he hummed a little tune as he left, it was clear he was genuinely pleased with Fiammetta's choice. His greatest worry had always been that her obsession with revenge would make her indifferent to the safety of others. He'd even had reservations about her following Mostima around for so many years. Seeing her choice today, he realized she wouldn't stray onto the wrong path.
Ah, right. I forgot to ask her when she's leaving. Getting old... always forgetting my own business.
"I must say, the commotion tonight was quite significant."
The Pope sat in his office, listening to the echoes of the chaos outside, and offered a relaxed evaluation. He sounded as if none of it could possibly affect him. In contrast to his ease, Feoria sat across from him in tense silence, looking like a prisoner awaiting a final sentence.
As for her daughter, she had already been taken by Jeanne to rest in the next room. Some conversations were better kept from a child's ears.
"You don't need to be so nervous, child. Laterano will not do anything to you or your daughter because of your husband."
The Pope comforted the anxious mother in a soft voice. He truly had no ill intentions; he had invited her here specifically to clear the air so she wouldn't have to live in fear every day. Looking at her pale complexion and her child's situation, he could guess that living with such a secret, even in Laterano, hadn't been easy.
"Great... His Holiness Pope Yvangelista XI, I admit to everything I have done with a Sarkaz. I am willing to pay any price, I only ask that little Cecilia be allowed to live..."
Despite the Pope's gentle words, Feoria, who had spent over a decade telling herself what would happen if she were caught, couldn't relax. Her nerves were taut as she waited for this mild old man to pass judgment. Even now, she didn't regret falling in love with the child's father; she only felt sorry for Cecilia, who had suffered so much alongside her.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. I haven't said I'd do anything yet. Let's switch to a lighter topic to satisfy my curiosity: how did you and your husband fall in love? Also it's Yvangelista XI.V now."
The Pope didn't look like he was joking; he truly seemed like an old man interested in a romance story. Feoria began to recount their meeting—a Sankta following a merchant caravan, rescued by a Sarkaz. There was nothing particularly unique about it; had it not been for the husband's identity, it likely would have been a marriage blessed by everyone.
"A past truly worth remembering. I give you my blessings for what you shared. Unfortunately, I'm an old man with one foot in the grave; I can only listen to such things now."
The Pope sighed with genuine emotion. He felt a certain respect for this woman who had dared to follow her heart despite knowing the consequences. She had even considered that if their child wasn't a Sankta, she might never have returned to Laterano at all.
"Then... may I ask, Your Holiness, what is your judgment for us?" Feoria asked. She had calmed down slightly, but the uncertainty was still agonizing. She preferred a direct answer to settle her heart.
"Judgment? How do you think Laterano handles an innocent child? We will simply help her establish her household registration. You can live here in peace; no one will bother you."
The Pope spoke warmly. It was true—now that the "Miracle" had descended, there was no longer any need for Laterano to sacrifice such children as they might have in the past. Furthermore, a child who had been recognized at the very center of a miracle... what reason did Laterano have to forbid her from living here?
The only catch was that the child's father could never enter the city.
Feoria heard the words "establish household registration" and could hardly believe her ears. She looked at the Pope; his expression told her he wasn't lying. Laterano had no intention of pursuing the matter further.
After today, there were far more important things requiring their attention.