A small figure was standing at the entrance of the cemetery - a girl who looked about eleven or twelve years old, wearing a dark brown woolen coat, a black skirt, warm cotton boots and thick gloves. She seemed to have been waiting at the entrance of the cemetery for a long time. It was snowing in the frosty city in the evening. A lot of snowflakes had fallen on the gray woolen hat on the girl's head, and there was a slight heat rising in the evening snow.
The little girl stamped her feet lightly on the spot, and from time to time she looked toward the slope opposite the cemetery. When the caretaker appeared, she immediately laughed and waved her hands vigorously in that direction.
"… here we go again."
When the old guard saw the girl, he couldn't help but mutter something, and his tone seemed a little impatient, but he still quickened his pace slightly and came to the girl.
"Annie," the old man frowned and looked at the girl in front of him, "you came here alone again - I have told you many times that the cemetery is not a place for a child like you to come alone, especially near dusk."
“I’ve already told my mom,” the girl called Annie responded with a grin. “She said I just have to be home before curfew.”
The old guard quietly looked at the smiling little girl in front of him.
Most people here don't like the cemetery's guards, and they don't like to get close to this strange and dangerous place, but there are always unexpected things in the world - for example, a little girl who is not afraid of her.
"Grandpa Guard, is my father here?" Annie looked up, and in the evening snowflakes falling, she looked expectantly at the hunched old man in black in front of her. The clear eyes that frightened most people did not make him feel at ease.
"… No," the old guard answered as usual, his voice as cold and hard as the wind swirling in the cemetery, "He won't be here today."
"It's even worse to expose a child's expectations," a young and slightly hoarse male voice suddenly came from the side, interrupting the old guard's muttering, "You didn't have to say that just now. A seventeen-year-old child will gradually understand what he should understand. Sometimes, there is no need for hard-hearted adults like us to expose the truth."
This time, the old man, who always had a stiff attitude, finally remained silent for a moment, until the snowflakes fell on his eyebrows, and his dark eyes moved slightly: "The dead will eventually gather in the cemetery and enjoy eternal peace on the other side of that door - but not necessarily in the cemetery of the world, and not necessarily in this cemetery."
Agatha paused here, with a strange expression on her face.
Agatha was silent for two or three seconds.
After thinking for a while, he said softly, "But there is another possibility. For a higher being like that, his concept of time is very likely different from that of mortals. The visit he mentioned may be tomorrow, a few years later, or even after you die, and he may contact you in a way that transcends life and death."
"We haven't done much preparation here, but it seems that this 'visitor' has no intention of returning here in the short term," he said casually after seeing the old guard appear. "Are you sure that this 'visitor' has revealed that he will come again?"
This sentence is written in the church's scriptures, but when faced with the same proverb, adults and eight-year-old children will always have different understandings.
The old guard snorted noncommittally, his eyes sweeping over the black-clad guards in the cemetery and the lanterns that burned quietly on the tops of their canes.
But just as he took a few steps, the old guard suddenly turned around and said, "Annie."
The old guard turned around and saw the "gatekeeper" Agatha, dressed in black with bandages wrapped around her, standing at the entrance to the cemetery. The previously locked gate to the cemetery was not opened.
Around these few coffins, there are at least two church guards standing next to each platform, and black and white canes can be seen everywhere in the open space between the platforms. The black cane is the iconic equipment of the guards of the Church of Death. They insert the cane into the ground in the distance and hang sacred lanterns on the top of the cane to maintain a large-scale "holy land", which can effectively fight against these polluting forces from higher beings.
Shaking his head, "Let her continue to expect that her father would be sent to this cemetery, and then he ran to this damn place alone in the snowy cold weather?"
"The essence of truth, the purest and most holy substance, the 'Drop of Truth' bestowed upon the world by the Lord of the Deep - that's how these heretics describe it," Agatha said with undisguised delight and sarcasm in her tone. "It's such a beautiful word, but it's really disgusting for them to use it."
He reached out his hand and took the cookie, then casually patted the other person's woolen hat to flick off the snowflakes: "I'll take it, you can go home early."
Anne still looked up: "But he'll come eventually, won't he?"
"Their 'evolution', in fact, has not stopped until now. As of the time he left the cathedral, these things are still constantly showing new forms and properties. In the past period of time, they even briefly showed a state similar to metal and rock. It feels like something that the Annihilation Cult occasionally mentions in their heresy."
Annie was not depressed, but smiled as usual: "Then I will ask again tomorrow."
Agatha shook her head, said nothing, and turned to walk towards the inner path of the cemetery.
It was already dusk, and the snow made the sky much darker than usual at this time. In the increasingly dark cemetery, the lanterns hanging on the top of the walking sticks burned quietly like phosphorescence, releasing a quiet yet eerie atmosphere.
But suddenly, Annie laughed and waved to the old woman: "Then just think of me as coming to see you. Mom said that old people need someone to talk to often."
The girl stopped and looked at the cemetery keeper in a daze.
Anne smiled and nodded, adjusted her scarf and gloves, and then walked towards the path leading to the city residential area.
"All these arrangements are just for our self-protection," Agatha said. "After all, although you said that you lost control of your clairvoyance because you inhaled too much incense, none of us knows whether this 'visitor' has the tendency to actively release mental pollution. If we want to face the transcendental directly, we must at least ensure our own sanity."
"… An elderly person…" The old guard watched the girl's back as she left, and only muttered after she ran away, "This child has evil intentions too."
"Isn't it good? At least when I was talking to that kid, he seemed to still have some warmth."
"This is the result of the discussion of the Vatican's advisory group."
"Not today," the old man shook his head. "Cemetery No. 3 is in normal condition. There are church guards stationed there. It is not open to the public today. You should go home, girl."
"ah?"
"...Can you please wish me well?"
The old man looked at what the girl was holding and then at the snowflakes on her body.
The old guard followed him. He first turned around and locked the gate. Then he went to his own guardhouse to put the purchased things away and completed the handover with the guard on duty during the day. Then he came to the morgue area in the cemetery and found the "gatekeeper" who had arrived here first.
Compared to before, the morgue is now obviously much emptier. Most of the stone platforms are empty, with only a few simple coffins placed on a few platforms at the edge.
"... This is something a gatekeeper would say."
Seventeen-year-old Anne stood there blankly for a long time. The cemetery guard in black stood at the tall and locked gate like a stiff iron statue. Fine snowflakes were fluttering between them, and the winter chill filled the dusk.
"Oh," Anne agreed, but she didn't seem to take it to heart. She just turned her head, glanced at the locked gate, and asked curiously, "Can I go in and take a look? I want to warm myself by the fire in your cabin..."
The little girl turned and ran away, floating lightly like a swallow across the path where the snow was gradually gathering. She slipped at the end of the slope, but immediately got up and brushed the snow and dust off her skirt and thermal pants.
The soil left quickly.
The old guard frowned quickly: "You mean... 'Elements,'?"
"Are you talking about these cultists, or this pile of 'corpses' that have melted into mud?"
"...Okay," Annie nodded a little frustratedly. Then, she rummaged through her small bag and took out a small package wrapped in rough paper and handed it to the old man. "Here, this is for you - it's cookies baked by my mother. She said I can't always cause trouble."
"I'll come tomorrow too."
"You shouldn't doubt the hypnotic skills of a professional psychiatrist," the old guard shrugged, then paused and added, "I can't remember most of what happened that day, and the buzzing noises are gradually fading from my mind. But after several hypnosis sessions, I can recall some things... The clearest thing is the intention of this 'visitor' to visit again before he left."
"Okay, look after Grandpa."
"There's not much to say about these heretics. They are minions of the Annihilation Cult and the extraordinary people who have a deep symbiosis with the devil. They are quite powerful. It would be very dangerous for the church guards to face them. It's a pity that these heretics obviously lack good luck. As for those 'muds,'"
"... I just hope that these arrangements will not anger the 'visitor', and will not be considered as some kind of offense or trap by the Sceptre. After all, we know too little about him."
The old guard didn't comment. He just thought for a moment and then suddenly changed the subject: "Did you come to any conclusions from the samples you took away earlier?"
The dead will come to this cemetery - no matter how scattered they were in life, Bartók's foyer will be the place where they will finally reunite.