Mori Tsukisa eventually managed to coax Evelyn back into a good mood.
It wasn't that she and OConnell believed Mori Tsukisa's nonsense, but rather that Evelyn, a young woman who was very serious and earnest when it came to archaeology, didn't believe in ghosts and gods.
In her mind, the 'High Priest' fabricated by those Black-Robed Figure urban legends was simply a high-ranking murderer active three thousand years ago—perhaps he was naturally gifted, with an untrained body comparable to a modern combat athlete, such that he was invincible three thousand years ago, leaving successors in awe.
But as for the rest, the so-called magic and curses mentioned by the Black-Robed Figure... they weren't important; magic did not exist in the real World.
Imhotep: Meow?
Dumbledore: Meow meow?
—Generally speaking, this was where Mori Tsukisa could convince Evelyn.
And having convinced Evelyn, OConnell would inevitably follow the woman he had feelings for.
Jonathan... he, he listened to his sister.
At this point, the group finally returned to Cairo.
————
A few days ago, Cairo.
Baru moved through the streets and alleys.
The short figure wore a dusty yellow work hat, like a nimble monkey, looking at the pipes in the shop windows one moment and touching a brand-new wheel the next, running past with the pitter-patter of his old leather shoes under the disgusted gazes of the gentlemen and ladies.
At dusk, laborers and girls in strange professions gradually replaced the gentlemen and ladies on the streets: they hurried along holding dough or hot, meatless soup, strolling with slurping sounds, their eyes looking around—as if they really had the money to go in and spend lavishly.
The girls stood in the shadows, dressed revealingly and provocatively, leaning against walls, some holding low-quality tobacco, exhaling white smoke and winking at passing laborers.
Clearly, despite being tired all day, some parts of the laborers could still perk up.
"Give me five meatballs and a small piece of toasted flatbread!"
The Boy held up his hand with high spirits, his chin resting on the high counter. He had been paid some wages today, so he could buy many meatballs!
"Haha, Baru, it's rare to see you spend so lavishly today. Did you just finish working overtime?"
The owner was a stout middle-aged woman; strangely, her husband was as thin as a brake rod on a machine—except for his large head, every part of his body seemed stretched and thinned.
This comical couple had always been very kind to little Baru, occasionally saving some leftover food scraps for the Child and quietly tucking them into his cloth bag when he passed by after work.
"It's for my own overtime!" Baru tapped the counter rhythmically, his feet going up and down on his toes, looking extremely happy.
"I've completed the first step of my dream!" The Boy grinned. "I can go on an adventure!"
Toward these children doing hard labor, the proprietress, as a woman, had infinite patience and pity. She thought Baru was talking about some childish jokes, something about monsters, magic swords, and heroes.
After a few laughs, the woman's fat hands nimbly arranged the food on the counter.
"Is that so? Baru is so impressive. Remember to come back and see me often."
"I will! Once I find it!"
One by one, the meatballs were dropped into Baru's small cloth pouch, and the flatbread was folded into a square; the warmth of it made the youth feel very satisfied.
As he counted, Baru looked at the owner in confusion and then used his fingers to count them all again. "Ah! There's more, two extra!"
"Take them, take them. Go on, I should be resting soon."
The fat owner patted the Boy's hat, her face, piled with fat, squeezing out a kindness reserved only for children. "Don't drop them! Don't drop them! Don't run!"
"I know! Hahaha! Thanks, Dura!"
While waving back and carrying his dinner, the Boy quickly disappeared from this street that didn't belong to him... The night sky was gray, and the moon was nowhere to be seen, but the wind was quite strong.
Whoosh, it pushed the uniform tips of the grass and also pushed Baru's hat brim, revealing the Boy's weed-like hair.
Looking up, a giant castle seemed to float slowly above the clouds: storms gathered around it, with lightning occasionally piercing the clouds with a crackle; some birds stayed far away, flying around the castle as if navigating for it.
The goddess's black hair filled the sky.
When She let it down to comb it, the World entered the night; but when She gathered it into a tail, it could reveal the Sun behind Her.
The earth would be illuminated.
She usually slept in the wind.
Occasionally waking up, looking at the starry castle beside Her, She would playfully hold up Her palm and blow a breath from Her bright red lips—the faint wind would whip up a storm on its way, pushing the legend in the sky to float slowly further away.
On the days She was sad, snow that wouldn't melt all year would fall; when She was happy, the bright Sun would crush the cold wind.
She had always lived with the city in the sky, saying good morning and good night to them. In the goddess's pale blue eyes, the sky also became increasingly clear and transparent, where multi-headed dragons and flocks of eagles with iron-like wings soared and crossed paths.
Looking up.
The fantasy shattered.
There was... nothing in the sky.
A few Crows made unpleasant 'caw-caw' noises, and large and small fragments of rubble made this return journey even harder to walk.
When it rained, this place would turn into a muddy trap; muddy water and soft soil would cover the sharp edges of the rubble, and many people had tripped on them and never stood up again.
Those dark red-stained stones were the culprits, but no one cared. They would only roughly drag the corpse by the feet and dump it into the river, while the rubble that caused it all remained on the ground, waiting for the next unlucky person.
Wisps of gray mist rose along the road with a foul, pungent smell that someone coming here for the first time probably wouldn't be able to stand.
Baru could; he had been smelling it for many years.
But he wouldn't keep smelling it like this forever.
Flying machines, Laputa, fresh grass wet with dew, colorful flowers, butterflies, the Sun, little roses, warm... people.
He would leave this place, leave the mines that only had darkness, and see the things his father had talked about.
Crack.
The young Boy kicked away the rubble under his feet, holding the cloth pouch with both hands and walking carefully on the road dense with sharp stones. Suddenly, the moon came out.
No, it seemed... it wasn't Moonlight?
The Boy shaded his eyes with his right hand and squinted up into the air—
A green object, like a firefly, broke through the sky and slowly descended.
That is...?
Baru ran quickly toward the direction where it was falling!
Closer, closer.
That's... a person?
It's a girl!
She'll fall to her death! There's a mine shaft below!
Thud.
The meatballs fell to the ground, rolling and getting covered in dirt, but the Boy didn't have time to care. He hurriedly jumped onto the wooden planks, reached out his hands, and caught the slowly falling girl.
Very light, very soft, with a scent of lavender.
Baru held the girl tightly, stepping carefully off the suspended timber like he was walking a tightrope—red hair tie, a braid hanging to her waist, and a dark blue long dress.
The blooming light gradually faded as the Boy's arms embraced her. In the blink of an eye, rings of light contracted into the stone pendant around the girl's neck, the hem of her skirt, which had been fluttering without wind, drooped, and her shiny black braid fell behind the girl's head.
The gem-like blue on her chest slowly went out, revealing the shining symbol on the front of the stone.
The girl's long, thick eyelashes were tightly closed.
She was asleep.
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