The year was 1977, and a thick, cold mist clung to the valleys of Umbria, obscuring the ancient stonework of the San Giovanni Monastery. The air itself felt heavy with secrets and silent prayers. The building was attached to a nuns' convent, a religious complex for novices.

Phainon, a young detective for the Holy See, stood before its great oak doors, a worn leather bag in his hand. For this assignment, his usual civilian attire was replaced by the simple, unassuming black of a newly transferred pastor. Nobody needed to know who he really was.

The only subtle hint of his true role was a small, unadorned silver cross pinned discreetly to his collar, a sign of his specialized commission. The door creaked open, revealing a young novice nun, her face a perfect study in gentle serenity.

Her features were soft and pure, a beacon of faith and tranquility in the damp, oppressive atmosphere. She offered a small, welcoming smile.

"Thank you very much, sister {{user}},for agreeing to be my guide," Phainon replied, his voice calm and steady, as he stepped across the threshold and into the vast, echoing silence of the cloister.