Fireworks Festival, Late Night. The Altria Family, Village Chief's Office.

"Little Turing, did you have a happy New Year?" Oedipus smiled at Turing. The smoke she exhaled, like a ferocious beast, slowly and gently climbed up the quiet windowsill beside her, silently howling.

Not to mention Turing, who was already covered in wounds, even the doctor next to him, who was treating Turing, dared not make a sound.

Just sitting there, leaning against the desk and smoking, Oedipus became the source of pressure for others.

Oedipus shook her head, raised her pipe and gestured towards the door, indicating the doctor to leave.

The doctor glanced at Turing, who was not yet fully healed, stood up, bowed, and left with his medicine box.

"I really didn't expect this."

"The children's social skills are not good either."

Oedipus neither revealed what she knew nor asked what was going on. Just playing dumb like this made Turing break out in a cold sweat.

"That's not true, Mom. Although I have some trouble getting along with my classmates, it's definitely not to this extent. The injuries on my body are mainly...I accidentally fell in the toilet."

Turing was obviously telling a lie at a level that a nine-year-old child should have.

[Mom probably won't believe it, why did I lie in the first place?]

"Well...there's nothing we can do about it. It's not your fault."

[What?]

"I'll give this to you."

From her pocket, Oedipus took out a transparent ring and placed it in Turing's outstretched hand.

[The texture, is it glass?]

[But why is there an unlimited surge of magic. Is this the feeling of having magic?]

[I've never heard of a treasure that can give a man magic.]

[Could it be that Merka relies on this?]

"This ring is not easily obtained. It gives you the right to use magic."

"Use it to protect your body from harm, no matter what kind of injury."

"But Turing, I can only lend it to you, not give it to you. I can't protect you forever, right?" Oedipus said with apparent weight and seriousness.

"And for your own good, you should be willing to pay the price for it." Oedipus looked at Turing's anxious little face, smiling mischievously.

"Otherwise, you'll never grow up." Turning her head away from Turing, Oedipus put the cigarette back to her lips and took a puff.

"I understand, Mom. I will definitely work harder in the future..." Turing thought for a long time before saying this sentence.

[What other price can I pay besides working hard?]

Oedipus didn't say anything after hearing it, just smiled and continued smoking.

Three days after the Fireworks Festival. The Altria Family, Overgrown Garden, Night.

"Sorry, Nizi, Uncle has been busy these days. I didn't bring you anything."

"What? Never mind, never mind."

"If you're caught by that woman when you go out at night, Uncle won't be able to help you. Don't give me a hard time."

"Come back together with me tonight? Okay, if this old bones of mine can contribute something to the girl, then it's worth it."

"Ah, you're going to Westminster Cathedral? Five hours is not enough to get there."

Turing made a hand gesture to indicate that it's fine on a Friday.

"Oh, oh, if you have a way, sure. So shall we go now?" Wednesday opened his large gardening box.

Since he didn't bring anything for Turing, and there happened to be no work today, the inside of Wednesday's box seemed particularly empty.

Wednesday forcefully moved the remaining little shovel and pots to the corner of the box, then made a gesture to Turing.

The petite Turing curled up and slowly crawled into the box, almost completely filling up the cramped space."Dong!" Turing bumped his head.

"Uncle, it's a bit crowded," Turing said.

"Just bear with it, it definitely won't be as comfortable as your soft princess bed," Uncle replied.

On Wednesday, Turing untied the ropes that were wrapped around his shoulders and securely fastened the box. Carrying the heavy box on his back, he passed by patrolling soldiers and crossed the guards at the entrance, walking out of Erisburg in broad daylight.

The clear moonlight scattered on the treetops outside the fortress, turning into dewdrops and forming puddles on the ground. Wednesday's footsteps echoed in the accompanying wind, leaving imprints of a lonely totem on a large sycamore tree tied with a horse rope.

Wednesday's steps stopped beside a dark brown horse.

"Kid, Uncle is leaving. Do you want a ride? Westminster Cathedral is quite far," Wednesday said.

Wednesday opened the box that he had set down, stepped on the stirrup with one foot, put his hand on his waist, and rested the other hand on the knee of the raised leg. It seemed like he was only waiting for Turing to say a word so that he could immediately pull him onto the horse.

"No need, Uncle," Turing crawled out of the gardening box and grabbed a large piece of black cloth to cover himself, also hiding his face.

"It's not as fast as me."

As soon as the words fell, before Wednesday could even react, Turing's figure disappeared like it merged with the moonlight. After a short moment, the surrounding wind followed after Turing as if it realized what was happening.

Wind ropes, magician's hands, and all the magic that could accelerate Turing through the forest seamlessly were displayed.

Tree trunks, one after another, then bouncing off the ground, followed by another tree trunk. Turing, swinging in the forest, appeared and disappeared like a elf flying low among flowers and grass.

Acceleration after acceleration made Turing go from swinging to gliding, and from gliding to flying. I mean, Turing was as fast as if he was flying.

The thorns, tree branches, and shrubs that could hinder pedestrians now all became stepping stones for Turing's petite tornado.

[This is magic.]

[Amazing.]

The rushing magic continued until the edge of the forest.

An ancient and elegant stone sanctuary gradually appeared in front of Turing. It was Westminster.

At night, Westminster was a lake.

Without the shimmering waves in the bright sun, at this moment, it became a part of the moon, quietly welcoming Turing who had come from afar.

[To arrive in just half an hour.]

Turing looked around the interior of Westminster Cathedral.

Looking at the silent and empty surroundings, Turing took off the black cloth, revealing his small head, and walked straight toward the confessional.

No light came in through the windows of the church, and the candles in the church had not been lit, yet the entire church surprisingly wasn't very dark.

The iron window of the confessional was engulfed in a bright darkness, which was awe-inspiring.

Turing knocked on the window and whispered, "Is Bishop Maria here? I want to confess."

"Bishop Maria is not here," came the reply.

"But can I still confess to you?" Turing expected a gentle response, but instead, he found a teenager sitting at an angle in the dark confessional room.

[Merka? Is he on duty here?]

"Do you still handle confessions?" Feeling disappointed not to see Maria, Turing asked.

[I can't confess to Merka. If I do, I would reveal my identity.]

"Ah, yes. I can read books to pass the time at night, so the teacher assigned me to night duty," Turing realized as he heard this, that Merka was caressing a book written in Braille with golden thread. It must be the Bible.

"Isn't it dull?" Merka laughed, but his laughter wasn't self-deprecating or frivolous. It gave the impression that this was the smile of someone who always smiled.

His signature smile.

Dazzling like the sun.

"So, what do you want to confess?" Merka asked.

[As long as the intention to confess is there, that might be enough, right? Let's use a different way to phrase it that won't reveal my identity.]"I want to repent for the mistakes I've made... I've messed up a lot recently."

"I've made many mistakes."

"I've disappointed my mother."

"I haven't handled my relationships with friends well."

"I always hurt others and think it's inevitable..."

"And, and..." strangely, Turing seemed to be racking his brain to come up with more charges against himself.

"Oh wow, that sounds like quite a lot," Merka said.

"I thought being a lady's attendant would be an easy job to please."

"Are all these things you mentioned against justice?"

"No."

"Do all these things betray your conscience?"

"No."

"Are all these things irreparable?"

"..."

"That's a tough question to answer."

"Well, how about slacking off a little when no one's watching?"

"Maybe even God would prefer mischievous children."

"But... but..."

"Ah, perfect timing, let me read you a few lines of poetry," Merka skillfully flipped to a certain page in the book she was holding.

"It's written by a foreigner."

"Although this book looks like the Bible, I actually hid extracurricular books inside it so I wouldn't get nagged by my teachers."

"Clever, right?"

"But how can he do that, deceive the teacher and such... Wait, wait, is it possible to do that?"

"We even have no time to pause and gaze."

"No time to stand beneath the boughs"

"And stare as long as sheep and cows."

"No time to see, when woods we pass,"

"Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass."

"No time to see, in broad daylight,"

"Streams full of stars, like skies at night."

"No time to turn at Beauty's glance,"

"And watch her feet, how they can dance."

"..."

On a prosperous summer night, in the Lake, there were two little fish quietly playing together.

Forgetting oneself, forgetting death, forgetting life, two souls with infinite differences, leaned against each other and conversed until dawn.