12 The Republic of Ascaris 12

Leaving Aska and arriving here was just as abrupt, leaving Phyllis no time to react. It seemed that ever since she came to this world, everything had been like this—suddenly becoming someone else, suddenly witnessing the death of those around her, suddenly being told she had to leave... everything happened so fast that she couldn’t respond or make amends, and the situation changed drastically once again.

It wasn’t until Isabella carefully took out a pair of scissors and gently discussed cutting her hair that Phyllis finally came to her senses and obediently sat in the chair. Though reluctant in her heart, she had to admit that starting a long journey here, it was safer for a boy than a girl. Cutting her hair short and wearing the old clothes of a boy was the last protection the Master Giovanni’s family could offer her.

As the snapping sound of scissors filled her ears, strands of deep brown hair fell to the floor. Phyllis’s hair was thick and dense; now suddenly cut short, she felt the weight on her head lighten considerably. Just as she was about to make a remark, a sob unexpectedly came from behind her.

Turning around, she saw the woman she had just seen covering half her tear-streaked face. When she noticed Phyllis looking, she instinctively turned away.

“Aunt Lisa, please don’t cry. It’s not good for your health,” the short-haired girl jumped down from the chair and gently leaned against the woman’s trembling body. “You still have a baby inside you. If you’re so sad, the baby will feel sad too...”

“No... I’m sorry...” The woman looked at the girl who had leaned on her and finally couldn’t hold back, pulling her into an embrace. “I’m sorry... We shouldn’t have let you leave at a time like this... Actually, we could have...”

“It’s alright. You and Master Giovanni have already helped me so much; I should be the one thanking you,” Phyllis returned the embrace softly. “But Aunt Lisa, after I leave, even if you can’t hide out in the countryside, you must try to avoid people. The same goes for Master Giovanni. Until the plague disappears, avoid contact with others as much as possible, even those who seem healthy... Also, be sure to watch out for fleas and lice—those little biting insects. As long as those don’t infest the house, the plague won’t come in.”

After speaking, seeing the woman’s surprised expression, Phyllis composed herself and put on an embarrassed look as she offered the excuse she had long wanted to use.

“This... was a dream I had yesterday... A woman in a blue robe, with a halo over her head, her face indistinct, touched my head and spoke to me...” Her voice grew softer as she spoke, cheeks flushing as she lowered her head, fingers nervously twisting the hem of her clothes. “At first, I thought it was my mother, but my mother doesn’t wear blue... That was the color of lapis lazuli, the fabric flowed like water, so smooth... I’ve never seen such beautiful clothes.”

This clumsy excuse was inspired by what she had heard from the gray-robed old monk. In this place, she had realized that rather than trying to convince someone with logic, it was more effective to present your thoughts as divine guidance.

For true believers, this might be forbidden, but Phyllis herself was an atheist, so telling such a well-meaning lie carried no burden.

“It’s the Virgin Mary! It must be the Virgin Mary's apparition!” The woman excitedly made a praying gesture before tearing up and smiling as she hugged Phyllis’s head. “Good child, good child... It is the Virgin Mary, she is blessing you. You will be fine...”

Phyllis silently embraced her back and gently patted her twice.

Though Isabella was Master Giovanni’s wife, anyone could see the significant age difference between them. This young woman, just showing signs of pregnancy, looked barely in her early twenties; if they walked out together, people might believe they were father and daughter.

Such an age gap in marriage was not uncommon; in fact, people were quite accustomed to it.

Without blood transfusions, antibiotics, or cesarean sections, childbirth was a gamble with a woman’s life in those days. But since everyone went through it, it seemed less extraordinary.

Phyllis placed her hand on Isabella’s slightly rounded belly and gently pressed her ear against it.

“If that really is the Virgin Mary, I hope she will bless you,” she murmured quietly, lowering her gaze. “May the Virgin Mary protect you both...”

***

“…You didn’t really dream of the Virgin Mary, did you?”

Back in the room upstairs, Professor Paileusso, who had been hovering behind her, suddenly spoke up. “More than that, I think you don’t believe in the Virgin Mary at all... All those words you said just now were to deceive her. Why? To keep her clean and prevent insects in the house?”

Phyllis turned and met the old professor’s inquisitive gaze head-on. Startled by her expressionless face, he drifted backward slightly but stubbornly asked what was on his mind.

“You... aren’t really ‘Feliciana,’ are you?” He cleared his throat and continued in a steadier voice. “I heard from those around that Feliciana is only eight this year, grew up in Aska, and her family are devout members of the Holy Church. They attend services weekly and often visit the convent. She wouldn’t be ignorant of what the Tura Order is…”

Seeing the girl furrow her brows a few steps away, he cautiously floated further back, almost pressed against the window, but insisted on finishing, “Who are you really? What happened to the original owner of this body?”

Seeing his comical “If you dare touch me, I’ll run” stance, Phyllis couldn’t help but twitch the corner of her mouth.

“What are you afraid of? Do I look like someone violent who would assault an old man?”

When the old professor still looked incredulous, she sighed and sat back on the bed, putting some distance between them before spreading her hands.

“I only intervened because I saw you were about to be eaten by those things, and I took a huge risk... Besides, no one else can see or hear you, so even if you know my secret and tell no one, why would I silence you?”

She rubbed her temple and muttered softly, “Yeah, no one else can prove you exist... I’ve suspected you might be a hallucination created by my mind. Killing a hallucination inside my head should be easy enough…”

“I’m definitely not a hallucination!”

At first, when Phyllis spoke of saving him, the professor’s expression softened, but by the last sentence, he stomped like an enraged rooster.

“Want me to prove it? Come on, ask me whatever you want. I can answer everything!”

Phyllis thought: What a conceited old man!

Seeing him tilt his chin arrogantly, she teased, “Then do you know how people fly to the heavens?”

“...” At this question, the professor’s face momentarily twisted, his thick mustache moving as he opened and closed his mouth, finally releasing a frustrated “Hmph.”

“People aren’t birds; they can’t fly to heaven! Only the dead and angels can fly up there!” he grumbled. “Asking that kind of question won’t solve our current problem!”

“What should I ask then?”

“You can ask anything! Arithmetic, geometry, astronomy—any of the seven liberal arts. No matter what, I can answer!”

“Hmph. Even if I come up with a question I don’t know the answer to, and you answer it, how can I prove your answer is right if no one around me knows the correct answer either?” Phyllis scoffed, crossing her arms and shifting the discussion further off track. “You should say something I don’t know but that everyone else around me would know. Only then could I believe you really are the late Professor Paileusso.”

Her words were convoluted, but the old professor quickly understood and proposed a feasible plan within seconds.

“…Languages! You probably don’t speak any language other than Intention Enno, right?”

Seeing the girl didn’t deny it, the old ghost lifted his head proudly.

“I won’t mention the continental lingua franca; every scholar knows that. Besides that, I’m fluent in Rolandic, Kastian, Paruben, and Azurian. For conversational purposes, Olof, Parician, Ivalian, and Marean are decent too. Didn’t Master Giovanni say he once worked in Roland? Then he should speak Rolandic. I’ll teach you a few daily phrases; then you can ask him to see if they match.”

That was indeed a workable method... but compared to the long list of familiar and unfamiliar languages, when she heard the familiar word “Marean,” Phyllis’s eyes lit up.

“You speak Marean?!” Excited, almost unable to contain her voice, she quickly urged softly, “Say a few words for me to hear!”

The professor clearly didn’t understand why she was so fixated on this obscure language but obliged.

Strange syllables flowed from the ghost’s mouth into Phyllis’s ears, but the excitement on her face turned to puzzlement.

After the professor spoke at length without any reaction, feeling awkward, he muttered something under his breath in Marean.

“...Are you scolding me?”

Unexpectedly, the girl suddenly looked up, eyes wide in disbelief.

“How did I offend you? Why are you calling me a blockhead?”

The professor was shocked in turn.

“You understand? Are you Marean?”

Phyllis opened her mouth but didn’t know how to explain. Yet, beyond that, she discovered something even more astonishing.

From the moment the old professor began speaking, she realized the nearly foreign language was actually ancient Marean from this era. Its vocabulary, pronunciation, and grammar differed greatly from modern Marean.

At first, she was about to give up trying to recognize any familiar words. But as time passed, something miraculous happened—she gradually understood those seemingly alien syllables.

It started with one or two words, then three or five. Like threads intertwining and weaving, by the time the professor finished, she could understand the entire sentence, including the last insulting slang.

“...”

I am not Marean, but I seem to know how to speak this language...

After some mental preparation, Phyllis naturally spoke in ancient Marean what she wanted to say, holding the professor’s pupils in awe as she continued:

“I have a strange idea I need to verify... Please try saying a few more things in other languages?”

The professor was initially stunned but soon his shock gave way to intense curiosity. His body drifted away from the window toward her.

He then spoke in the continental language, Rolandic, and Azurian several times. Just like before, Phyllis found them strange at first, but with a moment to process, those unfamiliar tongues became familiar, as if she had always known their meanings.

The feeling was wondrous, yet baffling.

She was certain she only knew one language—her mother tongue, modern Marean, with a New World accent. She had taken an elective Spanish course in high school but quit after a semester because memorizing vocabulary was too hard. Clearly, she was no linguistic prodigy.

Could crossing over cause her brain to mutate? Even the greatest language geniuses she knew wouldn’t be able to suddenly speak a foreign tongue after hearing only a few sentences. This made no sense.

It wasn’t just her; even Professor Paileusso fell into a long silence after his initial excitement.

He had always thought his ability to speak ten languages was exceptional. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe someone could master a language in minutes.

The girl and ghost sat in silence for a long time, both at a loss for words.

By now, Phyllis had fully grasped Rolandic through their experiments, but that changed the premise she had first proposed...

“...You were right before. I am not the original owner of this body, Feliciana, nor am I from Aska.”

Just as the professor was racking his brains for another way to prove he wasn’t a hallucination, the girl suddenly spoke, causing him to look up in surprise.

“My name is Phyllis Lynn, but I don’t know why I’m here.”

“My last memory was sleeping at home. When I opened my eyes again, I was in this strange body, and I don’t know where the original child’s soul went...”

The short-haired girl sat upright on the bed, her deep brown eyes unblinking as she looked at the ghost before her. She raised a finger to her chest.

“I am not a believer of the Holy Church, so I won’t swear by your gods. I can only promise myself: If that child still exists in this world, I will find a way to return this body to her.”

She stared at the old professor, who met her gaze.

After a long silence, the ghost sighed first.

“I think... she’s probably gone already...”

Phyllis’s unexpected honesty relaxed the professor, who lowered his shoulders and shared what he had experienced in recent days.

“These days, aside from visiting the university and home, the city is filled mostly with the dead. Most souls drift outside their bodies for a while after death but are unconscious and usually disappear after lingering near family.”

“A small number—perhaps those with intense emotions before death or who didn’t confess in time—have souls that last longer but soon lose their sanity and become the monsters that attacked me,” he said, lowering his eyebrows and shaking his head in regret. “Those things tear each other apart when close, devouring each other like beasts, maybe to extend their existence. But I’m not sure; I dare not get too close to see.”

His account matched Phyllis’s earlier speculation.

If soul duration depended on pre-death emotions and attachments, the original “little Phyllis” might be even harder to find.

A seven- or eight-year-old child likely had few attachments, and since she was suddenly pushed off a slope and hit her head unexpectedly, she might have passed without realizing it.

If so, perhaps that was a kind of luck.

Phyllis was silent for a moment before asking, “Have you encountered any other ghosts like you who retain their reason?”

“No.” Professor Paileusso shook his head, then thoughtfully analyzed himself. “At first, I was like those unconscious wandering souls, driven by attachment to return to the university. It was after being attacked by those things that I regained consciousness... Then you came along, and after we started talking, my chaotic thoughts cleared and memories returned... And those hellish creatures fear you; you can even kill them. Now you’ve learned a language in just a few sentences...”

The more he spoke, the more fervently he looked at her.

“I’m really curious—who exactly are you?”