In the cramped rented room, Sandrone leaned against the cold wall, staring at the silver mirror she had lost and regained on the bed for a full ten minutes.
In her deep blue eyes, the shock hadn’t completely faded, but it was increasingly replaced by a forced rational analysis.
“It’s definitely not a memory error or a hallucination.
I sold it to Mr.
White with my own hands, got the money, and left the shop.”
She whispered to herself, her voice exceptionally clear in the silence.
“It couldn’t have grown legs and run back on its own, much less appeared precisely under my pillow.”
She approached the bedside, not touching it directly, but first carefully observing the area around the mirror.
No footprints, no signs of movement, and the windows and door locks were intact.
The mirror itself was exactly as it was when she sold it, even…
the mark where her fingertip had been pricked by the tiny carving, drawing a drop of blood, couldn’t be found.
“Rule out manual return—motive unknown, risk huge, and it doesn’t explain how they entered a locked room.”
She listed the possibilities as if analyzing a mechanical failure.
“Rule out mental abnormality or sleepwalking—the timing doesn’t match, and I’ve never had a similar medical history.”
She bit her lower lip, her delicate brows knitted tightly together.
“Then, there’s only the most improbable but seemingly only explanation left for the current situation…”
Her gaze fell on the mirror’s surface, which reflected her own face—slightly pale from tension, yet still excessively exquisite.
“This mirror…
has a problem of its own.
A non-scientific problem.”
This conclusion made her stomach churn.
As a student educated in modern science and mechanics, she instinctively rejected such an idea, but the facts were right before her eyes.
“Perhaps it’s some kind of advanced technology that hasn’t been made public yet?”
She tried to fit it into concepts she understood, but soon shook her head.
It was too far-fetched, far beyond current technological levels, and why use it on a mirror?
Finally, with a determination akin to a warrior cutting off their own arm to survive, she reached out and cautiously picked up the mirror.
It felt cold in her hand, heavy and real in texture.
She checked it over and over, tapping the mirror surface lightly with her finger, listening to the sound, and even trying to pick at the tiny diamonds on the frame with her fingernail.
Everything was normal.
It was just an extremely exquisite mirror of extraordinary craftsmanship.
Except…
it would come home on its own.
Sandrone couldn’t help but puff out her cheeks, making a slightly frustrated face at herself in the mirror; this childish action made her look more like a stubborn little animal.
She even held the mirror to her ear, as if wanting to hear if there were any gear sounds inside (of course, there weren’t).
“What on earth are you?”
She asked the mirror in a low voice, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness.
On the moon, Columbina, watching all this one-way through the mirror, couldn’t help but let the corner of her mouth curl up into a slight arc under her diamond-shaped white eyepatch.
She chuckled softly.
Her ethereal voice was silent in the vacuum, but the sense of amusement was real.
“As expected, no matter which timeline or world it is, Sandrone is still Sandrone.”
This way of being scared to death yet forcing herself to stay calm, finally showing that cute and defiant expression, was simply…
too interesting.
Like a kitten pretending to be calm after its fur bristled, secretly using its paws to test a dangerous object.
Having enjoyed enough of Sandrone’s “face-changing show,” Columbina turned her attention back to her newly acquired asset—Barbara.
Clicking on the details, a system prompt indicated that the [Church] basic information needed to be completed before this anchor could be officially activated and a more detailed operation interface opened.
“A church, huh…”
Columbina sat cross-legged, her finger unconsciously tapping her chin.
She had no concept of running a church, but since the system provided this framework, and that “mother of blood” seemed to have followers, having a proper (?) church of her own seemed like a good idea?
At least Barbara seemed like a reliable starting employee.
She began to conceptualize:
Church Name: New Moon Church.
Let’s go with this; it echoes “Moon Goddess” and doesn’t sound bad.
Symbol: After some thought, she sketched a simple pattern on the basic drawing interface provided by the system—a slender crescent moon, with three tiny stars arranged in a triangle inside the curve of the moon.
The overall design was simple, carrying a touch of tranquility.
Core Tenets (provisional):
Silent Moon Observation: True revelation lies in quiet observation and inner clarity, not in noisy prayers.
Glimpsing the Truth: Moonlight illuminates the patterns beneath the surface; we seek to understand the true nature of the world and ourselves.
Solitude as a Journey: The lonely journey of an individual in the vastness is not a punishment, but a Pathway to recognizing uniqueness.
The church is a rest stop on the journey, not a prison of restraint.
contracts and Bonds: contracts witnessed by moonlight are sacred and not to be slighted; bonds transcend distance and form.
Hand Sign: At this thought, Columbina’s mischievous streak surfaced.
She looked up, glancing at the middle finger of that giant statue standing eternally in the distance.
“Hmm…
let’s go with this.”
She decided without any psychological burden.
To simplify it: Clench the right hand into a fist, leaving only the middle finger extended, with the other four fingers curled inward.
Press the upright middle finger gently against the left chest over the heart, while bowing the head slightly.
The meaning is…
“Pointing to the one and only true moon with a sincere (?) heart”?
Anyway, the right of interpretation belongs to her.
This gesture was definitely impressive and difficult to imitate.
Taboos: Excessively noisy rituals, blind fanatical sacrifices, and worship of distorted evil gods.
After quickly filling in these basic settings, the system confirmed and passed them.
Next, she needed to choose a holy relic for the Barbara anchor, to be used for daily contact and projecting power when necessary.
In the list of optional items, Columbina saw projections of Barbara’s personal belongings: a simple silver cross (Church of the Earth standard), a pocket hymnal, a small comb, and a small handheld mirror commonly used by girls.
“A mirror?
Nice, she has taste.”
Columbina decisively chose that small mirror.
It was a matter of being on the same wavelength.
The moment it was selected, the perspective shifted.
The scene Columbina saw turned into the interior of a simple but clean little chapel.
Sunlight spilled through the stained-glass windows in soft patches of light.
Barbara, dressed in a simple nun’s habit, was gently listening to an elderly woman’s outpouring and offering soft words of comfort.
Her movements were natural, her expression sincere; it was impossible to tell that she was already a believer of the “Moon Goddess” on the inside.
Suddenly, Barbara’s movements paused slightly.
She politely said to the old woman, “Please wait a moment, I’ll go get some water for you,” then stood up and walked toward a quiet prayer room at the back of the chapel.
Closing the door, she quickly but respectfully took out the small mirror chosen as the “connection point” from her bosom.
The mirror surface was now glowing with a faint moon-white Glimmer, reflecting a blurry silhouette.
Barbara immediately knelt on one knee and said in an excited yet devout whisper, “Praise the new moon, bathed in silver light.
Lord Moon Goddess, your faithful servant Barbara awaits your instructions.”
The silhouette in the mirror nodded slightly.
She didn’t intend to give a long speech, only transmitting a simple thought: “All is well.
Continue your outward duties and remain hidden.”
Barbara understood immediately, her eyes filled with even greater reverence: “I shall obey your will.”
The light dissipated, and the mirror returned to normal.
She calmed her breathing, adjusted her expression, picked up the water cup again, and walked out with a gentle smile, continuing her work as a nun of the Church of the Earth.
No one knew that the surging faith in her heart had quietly turned toward another “new moon.”
“Not bad, very sensible.”
Columbina switched back to the main perspective with satisfaction.
The first believer was operating well.
She turned her gaze back to the scene on Sandrone’s side.
The mirror showed that Sandrone had re-wrapped the silver mirror in thick old cloth, tucked it into her shoulder bag, and was walking out the door.
She had changed into a more inconspicuous dark gray dress, tied her hair as tightly as possible, and had a look of determination on her face.
“Oh?
What’s she up to?”
Columbina watched with great interest.
Sandrone decided to temporarily set aside the supernatural issue of the mirror and first solve the more pressing survival crisis.
She walked carefully down the street, alertly observing her surroundings, heading in the direction opposite to the University District, closer to the Docks and the Factory District.