Chapter 28: Set Her Free

At the next intersection, Chiba pulled over to buy several newspapers and magazines featuring Hesta’s portrait, then handed them to her once back in the car.

Hesta flipped through the pages. In these articles, she encountered a "Jane Hesta" who was utterly alien to her.

This girl shared not only her name but also her history of entering the convent. She was depicted as gentle, devout, and possessed of a saintly heart from birth. The articles were filled with elaborate details, painting a vivid and realistic picture of life in the convent. Presumably, the reporters had interviewed the children who survived the St. Anne’s Convent tragedy. Yet, anything concerning Hesta had been heavily misrepresented—for instance, the incident where Vrasan discovered a squirrel with a bloody hole in it on the day of the event was attributed to Hesta. Moreover, Hesta, who was always temperamentally mild, unassuming, and modest, was described as having taken the initiative to organize the other children to pray for the dead animal when no nun was present.

Hesta did not understand. "Why are they writing such nonsense?"

Just then, Chiba’s car passed the city square. The sudden roar of noise nearby made Hesta turn her head.

In front of a towering monument, countless people stood waving flags or holding homemade cardboard signs. As the car’s angle shifted, Hesta saw many people clutching her portrait—the very same one featured on the covers of the magazines today. On the fluttering flags and placards, people had painted thick, bold slogans in red or black: *Set Her Free!*

Below the monument, someone was delivering a passionate speech. Because they were too far away, Hesta could not make out the words, but she noticed many police officers standing not far from the crowd, arms crossed, watching the demonstrators in silence.

Perhaps because the speech was nearing its end, the person on the podium suddenly began to shout, and the crowd in the square erupted into a deafening roar: "Set her free!" "Set her free!" "Set—her—free!!!"

Hesta looked at Chiba. "What are they doing?"

"They are demanding that the United Government step in to negotiate with AHgAs."

"Negotiate... what?"

"They want AHgAs to let you go, to let you live like an ordinary person in the habitable zones, so you won't become a tool for fighting the Chelates in the future." As Chiba answered, she sat up straight to check the traffic ahead. Seeing congestion in the distance, she began looking for an opportunity to make a U-turn.

Hesta asked, "Why would they do this?"

"Who do you mean by 'they'?"

"...Those people in the square," Hesta said softly. "I don't know a single one of them."

"Ha," Chiba replied with a meaningful look. "That is, of course, because 'someone' wants 'them' to do it."

Hesta thought for a moment. "The United Government?"

"Uh-huh," Chiba grunted. "Although AHgAs is a completely autonomous institution, a significant portion of our funding comes from the regional government's fiscal allocations and private donations. Our public image in the region directly affects our budget for the coming year. Whoever knows how to leverage that can exert pressure on us."

Through the car window, Hesta looked back at the crowd in the square. In the distance, the people were erupting into even more intense shouts. As Chiba accelerated, these sounds grew fainter, and the streets on both sides settled into a brief silence.

Once they entered the Old Town, the city became lively again. Hesta saw a succession of taverns, bakeries, small supermarkets, and shop windows displaying new clothes. On the open ground along the streets, brown or dark blue tables and chairs were set up. Under giant umbrellas, people sat in groups chatting, their tables covered with various cups and snacks, laughter ringing out from time to time.

Due to the strict speed limits in the Old Town, Chiba drove slowly, which gave Hesta more chances to observe the beautiful old city. Unlike the brightly colored, fairytale-like row houses they had passed earlier, the architecture here was more solemn, with a more subdued and elegant color palette.

Bronze statues were scattered throughout the streets and alleys, their names and dates of birth and death carved into weathered, copper-colored pedestals. Eroded by wind and rain, the surfaces of the statues were mottled, revealing a sense of dark, cold beauty forged by time.

Chiba pulled up in front of a bakery and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Let's go. Let's get something to eat first."

"I already ate at the base this morning—"

"I haven't," Chiba said, already stepping out of the car. "It would be a miracle if the food at the base actually tasted good."

Hesta followed her out. She looked up and saw the words "White Ship" carved into a wooden sign above, accompanied by a string of characters in a language she didn't recognize—presumably the translation of the shop's name.

The moment they pushed the door open, Hesta was hit by the sweet scent of butter, so rich and mingled with the aroma of coffee that it made her feel as if she had stepped into paradise.

She followed Chiba in silence, gazing at the dazzling array of breads and cakes in the glass display case. Under the pale yellow lights, the congealed cream and frosting looked mesmerizing. She couldn't help but lift her sunglasses slightly to get a closer look, until her breath fogged the glass.

After ordering three croissants and a coffee, Chiba turned back. "What would you like?"

Hesta was startled, then grew flustered. She hesitated for a long time, her finger hovering before she finally pointed to a small cake on the top shelf topped with strawberries and raspberries. "Th-this one."

Chiba turned to the clerk. "One strawberry fruit tart, and two canelés."

The two of them sat at a wall-side table. One side was stone, and the other faced the street, embedded with a large pane of stained frosted glass. Through the glass, everyone on the street became a hazy, shifting shadow.

Soon, Hesta's fruit tart and Chiba's coffee arrived.

"Eat. Don't wait for me," Chiba said.

Hesta held her breath and picked up the knife and fork. She cut into the heart of the cake twice, slicing out a perfect sixty-degree wedge.

"Who taught you to use a knife and fork?"

Hesta paused. "Sister Gerdin at St. Anne’s Convent."

"Not bad," Chiba said, resting her cheek on her hand as she watched Hesta eat. "I’ve been here for over five years, and I still can't get used to them."

As she spoke, the waiter brought over a large white platter with Chiba's three croissants. She pulled a napkin from a wooden holder and used it to pick up the bread directly.

Neither of them spoke again.

Outside, it began to rain, the droplets pattering against the stained-glass wall beside Hesta.

The bell at the bakery entrance chimed as a mother and daughter pushed the door open. After a brief stop at the counter, they took a seat nearby.

The mother held her daughter's hand and carefully placed a pitch-black instrument case on the chair beside them.