28 The Grey-Robed Friar 15

It is unclear which measure proved effective, but on the first day of the plague within the caravan, the group outside the "isolation room" passed the time in relative calm.

The good news was that while cleaning, they took the opportunity to check one another, confirming that none of them showed signs of swellings or fever.

The situation inside the "isolation room" was more complicated.

Gunther, a man of volatile temper, had beaten Quinn severely upon learning that his roommate was the one who brought the plague into their quarters. Although Phyllis’s "death threats" forced him to temporarily cease the assault, he had bound Quinn and thrown him into a corner, denying him even the food and water brought in, clearly intending to starve the man to death.

Brother Salvatore, naturally, could not stand by and watch such a tragedy unfold. He spent the entire afternoon pleading and reasoning with Gunther until he finally agreed to allow the man some water.

It was then that they discovered Quinn, bound for half a day, had also developed a fever. Upon opening his clothes for a closer inspection, they found a distinct, swollen lump in his inner thigh.

"That goddamn liar! He tricked me into believing he was perfectly fine—I almost bought his devilish lies!"

"With a lump that large in his thigh, there’s no way he couldn't have felt it... the cursed, castrated pig! He’s ruined both me and Galil!"

Listening to the roars from behind the door, Mr. Fortune, who had been summoned by the guard, grew increasingly pale. Finally, he kicked the wooden door.

"Enough! What use is complaining now?" he commanded through the wood. "Do you understand now why I locked you all in? Listen well to Brother Salvatore; he is the only one who can save you now!"

The man inside muttered something, perhaps in protest, but eventually, he conceded with a stifled, bitter tone.

Phyllis, who had hurried upstairs upon hearing the commotion, sensed the strength in his voice and, after a moment's thought, offered a few more suggestions through the door.

"When you and Brother Salvatore care for them, you must be careful. Try not to get too close to the patients, especially when they sneeze. Even if you must approach them, cover your mouth and nose with a cloth. Ensure the room is ventilated to let in fresh air, or the miasma will make you sick as well—but do not open the windows when it is cold..."

Having combined modern epidemic prevention practices with the medical theories of the era, she paused and added, "Also, fleas tend to hide in hair. You would do best to shave your heads and beards."

Mr. Fortune looked at her in surprise and hurriedly asked, "Is this also wisdom gleaned from Brother Salvatore?"

With Gunther likely listening on the other side of the door, Phyllis found it difficult to continue attributing everything to the old monk. However, by this point, she had gained a basic understanding of the world and, having completely let go of her inhibitions, lies came to her as easily as breathing, and she didn't even blink.

"No, this was told to me by Aunt Katerina, my neighbor. Her husband once served a professor at the Medical School of Bologna. He said that miasma is generated around the sick, especially when they cough, and that if a healthy person swallows this miasma, they fall ill."

Mr. Fortune and his men exchanged glances, his voice still tinged with suspicion. "This is the first I've heard of such a theory... what was the name of the professor you mentioned?"

"Alfonso! Alfonso of Bologna!" Professor Pyleuso, hovering in the air, whispered a prompt. "He is the most famous professor at the entire Medical School of Bologna, and he died two years ago! I heard that before he passed, he was working on translating a medical manuscript fragment from Constantinople. Just say you found it there!"

"It was Professor Alfonso of Bologna," Phyllis calmly repeated. "It is said this was discovered while he was translating a medical codex fragment."

With Professor Pyleuso's help, the lie became far more convincing. At the very least, Mr. Fortune and Gunther on the other side of the door believed it. There were no doctors in their party, and they dared not venture into town to find one—even if they risked it, they likely wouldn't find one anyway. It was better to trust the fragmented wisdom left behind by a renowned physician.

The first day passed in chaos.

***

By the time Phyllis woke from her sleep, Professor Pyleuso had already brought news from the "isolation room."

Much like the first day, Galil, who had been the first to develop a fever, was still suffering, but thanks to the care he was receiving, he had managed to eat a little and had been lucid for a while that morning. Quinn, the source of their misfortune, had begun to develop dark, bluish-black spots and had been delirious in the middle of the night. The strong Gunther and Brother Salvatore had yet to show any symptoms of the plague.

Everything was relatively stable, but Phyllis dared not be negligent. She went upstairs again, and before the food and water were delivered, she insisted they add an extra packet of salt. She then repeated the "anti-parasite prayer" to the new shift guard, using the same excuse as before, and hurried away under his bewildered gaze.

The second day passed quickly. Before the dawn of the third day, Professor Pyleuso brought grim news: Quinn was dead.

No one knew exactly when he had breathed his last—perhaps in the late evening, perhaps in the middle of the night. In any case, when Gunther woke that morning, he noticed the man wasn't moaning as he had the day before; sensing something was wrong, he approached and found him dead.

Upon learning that Quinn, the culprit, was truly dead, many cursed him, calling it "good riddance" and "divine retribution." Mr. Fortune, however, who had been the first to call for his castration, acted out of character; he didn't join in the jeering, and his expression only grew more troubled.

The dead could not remain in the room, especially with three living people still inside the "isolation house." They had to remove the body. Forced by circumstance, Fortune had to seek help from the innkeeper, revealing the secret he had kept for two days.

According to Professor Pyleuso’s report, upon hearing that there were plague victims in his inn, the innkeeper was so furious he nearly rushed out to engage Mr. Fortune in a physical confrontation. However, the disparity in numbers was too great, and he couldn't even drive them out. In the end, under a combination of threats and bribery from Mr. Fortune, the innkeeper relented, stating they could throw the body out the window into the street, and he would arrange for it to be collected later.

With a dull thud, a dark shape hit the ground. Passersby who heard the noise merely glanced in that direction, pulled their headscarves tight, and hurried away, quickly disappearing around a corner.

Quinn’s death stirred the caravan, which had only just begun to settle. Especially since it was an acquaintance who had died—despite their verbal curses of "he deserved it," it made some realize that the shadow of death had reached their own doorsteps. In the middle of that night, someone attempted to flee, only to be caught by their roommate. The commotion awakened the entire inn, and Mr. Fortune had to rise in the middle of the night to settle the dispute.

On the fourth day, tension continued to spread through the inn. By noon on the fifth day, another commotion erupted upstairs, but it was quickly suppressed by the iron-fisted rule of Mr. Fortune and his loyalists.

Just as everyone was reaching their breaking point, on the sixth day, good news finally emerged from the "isolation house."

"Galil’s fever has broken!"

Through the door, Gunther’s voice was still booming. "He’s awake and can eat and drink on his own! He’s very weak and can't walk yet, but he’s out of danger... Brother? Brother Salvatore? What’s wrong with you?!"

The report took a sudden, tragic turn. No one had anticipated this, and the cheers that had begun outside the door died away instantly. Phyllis felt a string in her mind snap; she immediately moved to rush into the room, but was intercepted by the quick-acting guard.

"What happened? Gunther! What’s going on?" Mr. Fortune shouted anxiously. "What happened to Brother Salvatore?"

"He fainted!"

Before the message could even come from inside the room, the ghost who could pass through walls provided the answer: "I don't know if he caught the plague, they are checking now!"

Soon, Gunther inside the door announced the result. Brother Salvatore had no swellings on his body, but he was indeed running a fever and looked very weak; it was impossible to confirm if he had contracted the plague. Although he said "it's uncertain," the man’s voice was choked with tears.

"He... he said we are safe now and told us to go to another room to rest..." Gunther could not continue, and instead said with firm resolve, "Take Galil out! I am not leaving! I will stay here and keep taking care of him!"

Shortly after he finished speaking, the wooden door opened. A bald man pushed another, even thinner bald man into the arms of the person standing closest to the door.

"Ah—!" The guard holding Phyllis back screamed and scrambled away. The man, newly recovered from his illness, nearly fell, and Phyllis took advantage of the chaos to wedge herself into the doorframe, slipping through like a little fish.

Gunther was surprised to see her, but said nothing. After closing the door, he walked back to the bedside, half-supporting the old man as he sat up, and fed him a sip of water.

"Cough, cough... I am fine..."

Brother Salvatore pushed away the water skin the man offered. Seeing Phyllis walk toward him, he revealed that familiar smile once more. It was a gaze full of kindness, gentleness, and the look of someone who already understood everything. Merely meeting his eyes was enough to immediately calm a restless heart.

"You have come... just in time. There are some things I must tell you..."

He smiled at the girl and pressed his trembling hand against Gunther’s forehead. "Bless you, my child," he said. "Thank you for your kindness... but now, there are words I must say in private..."

Seeming to sense the emotion in his words, the man could no longer hold back, and the tears that had gathered in his eyes fell at once.

"Yes... may our Lord protect you..."

He held the monk's hand tightly, kissing the back of his hand as if he were a saint, and propped two pillows behind him to ensure he could sit steadily before rising to leave the room.

"..."

"I have always wanted to talk to you, child, but the timing was never right..."

"I thought I still had time, so I was not in a hurry... but it seems our Lord has left me little time now..."

The old man sitting against the bed patted the space beside him and smiled. "First, will you tell me your true name?"