Perhaps it wouldn't even be necessary to say, but I would still like to point out that poor Ugo remained in the small room with Francesca for as long as it took for her to calm down a little. Of course, he did it more out of fear than kindness, but we can avoid discussing that.

Instead, let's move directly to the moment when a rather courageous maid entered the room to deliver a message to the composed Francesca. As a result of this event, she stopped addressing Ugo politely and shifted all her attention to the piece of paper that had just been handed to her.

"Thank goodness I have some useful connections," she said, exhaling much of the lingering bitterness. "Well," she continued, looking up at poor Ugo. "Since that imbecile Graziano wants to do things his way, then we will do things my way," demonstrating with a few simple words her strong democratic attitude.

"Now get up, come on. Quickly! We have people to meet!" She continued without pausing for a single moment, even resorting to pulling Ugo by the sleeve when he didn't immediately comply, complaining, "Wait, wait..." but finding no opportunity to escape.

So, once he accepted his fate, his brain started functioning, one gear at a time. Until, already on his feet and being dragged towards the door by Francesca, he asked her, "Wait... You already knew Graziano would behave like this, didn't you? And you had already arranged things with other people even before we met here today, right?" demonstrating that even a tongue like his could string together two or three sentences without the need to pause or stammer.

"Of course, idiot," Francesca replied, stomping her feet and turning back to insult him further. "That stubborn fool would never accept my help, so I had to make do as best as I could." Ugo, poor soul in torment, strongly desired an escape, knowing perfectly well that things could only get worse from there. However, just for a moment, curiosity got the better of him, and as he stared at a fixed point in the void, he asked her again, "That sealed envelope was just a show, then... Not about passing confidential information. You already knew everything before coming here, didn't you?"

The girl's expression showed some surprise, just for a moment. Not so much because her friend without courage had reached that conclusion, but only because he had asked such an obvious question. And indeed, her answer was simple, "Obviously, am I stupid?" Before Ugo could say, this time with a certain strain in his voice, "So I'm the only one who doesn't know anything specific about it," causing Francesca to burst into laughter.

"Oh, so you want me to fill you in on the matter properly?" she said again, even loosening her grip on his sleeve due to her current good mood. However, Ugo quickly declined, saying repeatedly, "No, no, no..." and even gesturing with his hands from side to side to further clarify his position.

"Right... I figured," was Francesca's final comment before she pulled her friend along for a new adventure. In her eagerness, she even forgot to lower the veil in front of her face, but it didn't matter much; by now, the clouds had already covered a large part of the sky, turning the day into a kind of early evening, so let's say the scarcity of light would help her 'hide' her identity.

In any case, leaving aside the nonsense, the two continued to move through Asparetto, passing through various residential neighborhoods, more or less small industrial areas, and more or less busy commercial districts. Until, well south of the city, they reached a large building that was tremendously poor in appearance despite its size.

Most of the material used in its construction must have been wood, and not of the best quality. From the fence to the gate, all the way to the exterior walls of the structure, everything had lost its color, and in the worst spots, there were evident signs of weathering and the passage of time. Only the two statues just in front of the gate and the larger one that stood in the barren garden seemed like the product of a skilled craftsman.

"Oh god... Why are we here? Why here of all places?" Ugo began to complain once he realized to whom that dwelling belonged, adding later, "Don't tell me you've made arrangements with the people from the Cult of the Creeping Angel, please... I understand that this is your territory, but they are not normal..." Moving his tongue to voice his concerns while his feet futilely resisted the constant pulling and tugging from Francesca.

She mostly ignored him, finding it only interesting how her imbecile friend had filled the air with his babbling instead of maintaining the silence he would have kept in the past. Had he improved in the last few months we hadn't seen each other, or was it just a coincidence? But now was not the time for such reflections, as they had reached the entrance gate and a figure resembling a monk, covered from head to toe in a dark robe, had already started approaching them.

"Miss," was the first word spoken by the monk upon seeing Francesca. Shortly after, he added, "Please, come in. Our Guide has been eagerly awaiting your arrival." And so, without a password or any form of identification, the couple was escorted step by step towards the entrance of the building, managing to escape the first drops of rain that began to fall just a few minutes later.

All this to emphasize once again how the dear Francesca Giardino could go unnoticed, especially in her own territories. Luckily, her father and mother had never been too concerned about having her followed by any of their servants, as there would be no hope for the girl to hide what she was attempting to do.

However, let us draw a merciful veil once again and focus on the important part, such as Ugo's worried state of mind.

The poor boy, an imbecile but not to the extent of being entirely incapable, hailed from a relatively small Clan in the Valley, whose only true pride was, and still remained, the magnificent natural park where, for a tradition spanning millennia, a grand feast was celebrated that could last for days on end. Guests came from every prominent dynasty in the Valley, from the humblest to the grandest.

Being the third-born, he had never shown much fervor for the origins or reasons behind this peculiar tradition, considering the vast difference in wealth and power between them and their guests. However, since their position provided both security and a certain amount of wealth, who was he to create trouble and ruin their good fortune?

Due to this particularity, Ugo had come to know, at least by name, many organizations, cults, or families; and, let's just say it upfront, among the many cults he had become acquainted with, the Cult of the Creeping Angel had always been one of the strangest and most irrational. A combination that had always kept him at a distance from them.

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Unfortunately for him, today he had no choice but to enter the operational base, or Monastery if you will, of those sick and senseless people. Besides, trying to escape from Francesca remained, at least in his mind, a far worse idea.

Look at this place... How is it possible that they let this beautiful house rot in such a manner? Of course, this didn't mean that Ugo wasn't piling up a mountain of complaints and observations in the silence of his private thoughts. However, and here I might be a tad biased, the boy's words were not entirely wrong or out of place.

For instance, once they entered through the main door, the accompanying monk took a simple candle from a low two-door cabinet and placed it on a cracked ceramic saucer, then lighting it with a match. The light it generated was barely sufficient to guide them through the wide entrance hall adorned only with old furniture, both in appearance and scent, leaning against the walls without any artistic arrangement. However, once they continued straight ahead, the three of them passed through a series of increasingly narrow and bare doors and corridors, descending at least three or four meters below the surface.

I understand that it's part of their way of life... But seriously, do these idiots prefer shitty candles over any damn magical stone that illuminates with a bit of Mana? I can't even see where the hell I'm stepping... Francesca! Francesca!

Moving on, the company of the small fire finally seemed to reach its destination, as for the first time, the monk waited to open the door handle in front of them. "Although this is certainly not my task, I would like to apologize for leading you to the lowest floor of the Monastery," the monk said, with a kind of melancholy that made Ugo's hair stand on end.

"Once, before the arrival of our current Guide, this floor was reserved for monks seeking silence and darkness. Meditation and abstinence from the pleasures and necessities of life were the only activities practiced in these windowless rooms with heavy air. I myself used them for such purposes, many, many years ago," he continued, uncertain in some way about putting weight on his hand to open the door handle.

Francesca and Ugo did not respond to him. Not because they were struck by his statements or the tone in which they were spoken, but simply because neither of them knew what to say. Both, even if it might be better to say Francesca alone, had come there to seek help primarily of a political and military nature, certainly not to seek enlightenment.

"However," the monk continued, without turning towards his young guests, "I imagine times have changed. Perhaps for the better. Or perhaps for the worse. Who am I to decide? Thanks to our Guide, we have been able to do good, much more than we could have done on our own. His beliefs and methods are irrelevant," the monk concluded, finally opening the door that had wavered so much to swing wide open.

"Very well," he continued, gesturing to the two young ones to cross the threshold. "I do not wish to go further, as that is not within my jurisdiction. If you continue straight ahead, you will find the way on your own. Then, when the time comes for your departure, you will find me here waiting, so that you may exit without getting lost. You're welcome."

Now, obviously, the four neurons, two male and two female, had just a moment of uncertainty about what to do. The corridor that stretched beyond the door extended for only a few meters, illuminated solely by a cold light, almost too artificial to be pleasant, emanating from a second door at the end of the corridor, directly in front of them in a straight line.

"Alright, thank you for accompanying us this far then," Francesca said, driven by her desire to be assertive, taking the first step forward and thanking the monk with a slight nod of her head and a calm, friendly tone. Ugo, on the other hand, staggered a little to the right and a little to the left before managing to advance as far as his friend, inadvertently bumping lightly against the monk's shoulder.

"Oh, excuse me. I'm not used to places this dark," he tried to say quickly, using a frantic hand gesture almost to distract the monk from the bump. However, the monk didn't even seem to notice and bid them farewell with kind words and a light gesture before turning around and heading back from where they had come.

Ugo, poor guy, let out a sigh of relief, at least until he felt a shiver run down his spine. What... What was that? What the hell was that? He wondered a few moments later, realizing that both of his palms were sweaty. His not-so-bright but sufficient brain then began processing the information received from that small touch, piecing it together like a puzzle.

"Are we kidding?" he exclaimed aloud, swallowing a lump of saliva without even realizing it. The cultivation of that monk must be at least in the final stages of Meridian Creation... Even my father only reached the Tenth Meridian when I was a child, and he hasn't made a single advancement since then. Are we sure we're in the right place? he questioned himself, confused by his discovery. After all, cultivation had never been the focus of that cult, and none of the representatives he had met in the past had more than two or three meridians, not even the Guides who led the various communities that settled in his father's lands.

But before he could communicate anything to his colleague, Francesca placed her hand on the shimmering door handle and, with a firm push, swung it open without asking any particular questions. The light from the other side momentarily blinded both of them, before an unknown force sucked them both beyond the threshold, leaving an empty corridor where previously idiot one and idiot two stood.

"This... This is..." Ugo couldn't even believe he was still underground. The air was fresh and gentle on his skin, just like the strands of green grass brushing against his ankles. Even the sun didn't weigh down his breath, partially covered by a pair of light, soft, and innocent-looking clouds.

"Welcome, excuse the noise and the mess," a voice greeted them not too far away, calm in tone and slow in cadence yet, in some way, capable of effortlessly overpowering the shouts and the clanging of iron that dominated that small corner of paradise.

Speaking was the Guide of that Cult of the Creeping Angel community. "My name has never been important. However, I still consider it an invaluable gift from my father and mother. Please, Miss Francesca Giardino and Mr. Ugo Grapetti, have a seat. The one here, Daniele, is incredibly pleased to make your acquaintance," he introduced himself, inviting his guests to sit around the table that had already been prepared for the occasion with three glasses of a strange concoction with an alien color.

Ugo waited, pretending to be too amazed by the sudden change in his surroundings. The girl, much like always, forged ahead without lowering her gaze or tripping over her own steps. "Thank you for your hospitality," she replied, moving towards the Guide, in the direction of the chair the man was indicating, and then saying, "I am finally able to meet you, Guide of the Cult of the Creeping Angel."

"Please, I am merely a man of humble origins and without any special abilities," the Guide responded immediately, showing a smile that, at least in appearance, seemed genuine, and added, "Daniele is more than sufficient, Miss Francesca Giardino," only after a sufficient amount of time had passed.

Meanwhile, Ugo continued to observe from a distance, with a kind of premonition in his heart, as he had already seen a similar look in the eyes of at least a dozen merchants when he was still in his homeland, trying to lend a hand to his older brother in the Clan's business.

Not exactly the best first impression, that's for sure. But, well, there's always time to dig one's own grave even deeper, one good decision after another.