abcnovels
Chapter 148: Volunteering during the Golden Holidays (5)
Chapter 148: Volunteering during the Golden Holidays (5)
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Chapter 148 – Volunteering during the Golden Holidays (5)
Under the scorching sun, Vikir was busy pulling out weeds that had sprouted on the ground. However, even as he did this menial task, Vikir’s eyes and ears remained alert.
Vikir had gone to great lengths to gather information about Quilt, making certain he didn’t overlook any details. For a mere volunteer like him, directly meeting Quilt was nearly impossible, so his only option was to gather information about Quilt’s work and daily life through observation and conversations with people in the vicinity.
Even this proved to be a challenge due to the presence of Gerento, Pedo, Hebe, and Ephebo, who were always by Quilt’s side. They were making it difficult for Vikir to get close.
“They’re quite formidable. Especially that woman, Gerento…”
Vikir’s attention was drawn to a small-framed female among the four shadows accompanying Quilt. She exuded strong magical power, easily at least a 5th-class magician. Although her physical stature seemed comparable to Vikir’s, her magical power was undeniably exceptional.
The black staff she carried emitted a disturbing odor. It appeared to be an ancient relic of some sort. Nevertheless, at this moment, Vikir decided to focus only on what was evident.
Vikir had been quietly collecting information based on what he observed. Upon analyzing the various aspects, he concluded that Quilt’s duties were not particularly extraordinary. Quilt mainly dealt with selling indulgences or penances to visiting nobles or traders, and occasionally sent investment reports or records of indulgences to the Quovadis family.
Most of the recipients of these correspondences were Humbert L. Quovadis, Dolores’s Father, and the current head of the Quovadis Clan. Vikir, under the cover of night, would discreetly cross the barrier and intercept pigeons and owls flying from Quilt’s office, shooting them down with arrows to seize the mail.
The letters usually included records of penance sales.
For example:
[Indulgence Sale Records]
– Bequoin: Murdered parents who planned to disinherit their child and assumed their identity after faking their death = Donated 1.5 billion gold and was absolved of all sins.
– Lord Lagesso: Abducted and murdered twin sisters who worked as maids and secretly disposed of their bodies in the sewage system = Donated 200 million gold and were absolved of all sins.
– Master Phinnick: Killed his business partner and embezzled the investment funds, leading the partner’s family to live in destitution before resorting to mass suicide = Donated 800 million gold and was absolved of all sins.
– Countess Aigel: Accused of massive tax evasion amounting to nearly 100 billion gold = Donated 300 million gold and was absolved of all sins.
– Quacar: Accused of manipulating stock prices and causing the suicides of more than 10,000 small investors = Donated 5 billion gold and was absolved of all sins.
And so on.
While these individuals were undoubtedly wicked, they had not allied themselves with demons or betrayed humanity. Therefore, they were not targets for the “Night Hound.”
Vikir sighed as he put the letters aside for a moment, realizing that he didn’t need to know these details. While these people were evil, they hadn’t committed the ultimate betrayal by consorting with demons.
However, these “Blacklist” records could potentially be valuable to someone else. The information held the power to influence political decisions significantly.
Vikir decided to store the letters somewhere discreet.
At that moment, there was a twitch in his pocket.
“Hmm?”
Vikir was caught off guard, and even the usually expressionless Vikir widened his eyes in surprise.
What had wriggled in his pocket was quite a sizable black egg. It was the same egg he had acquired during his two-year stay with the Ballaks. Madam Eight-Legs egg.
Perhaps there was some reason for it to move now?
Vikir pondered for a moment before coming up with a whimsical idea. Could the egg be pining for the days when it was raised as a pet among wolf cubs? Did it want to play with the children in the orphanage?
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“Could it be?”
Vikir had this strange daydream. Madam Eight-Legs’ egg had once grown up in a den with wolf cubs. Wolf cubs spend their first days snuggling and frolicking with the eggs. Maybe this egg was drawn to the children’s play because it missed those days. Surprisingly, it appeared that all of the children in the orphanage were without parents.
“No, that’s impossible. An egg from a spider can’t have any spiritual significance…”
But if it had an S-level danger rating and belonged to Madam Eight-Legs, a high-ranked monster, then it might be different.
At that moment, a loud pop echoed, and one of the kids made a surprised noise. Simultaneously, the expressions on all the children’s faces turned to shock.
“Ouch!”
Had the ball flown too far?
No, that wasn’t the case. The pop came from the ball itself, but it didn’t move an inch from where it had been. The sound occurred as the leather of the ball tore, releasing the air contained within.
“Oh, this was our last ball…”
The children gathered around the deflated ball, disappointed. Despite the orphanage making a significant profit from selling indulgences, the toys that the children played with were always old and worn, typically received as donations a long time ago.
The ball they had been playing with had multiple patches, and the children had sewn it up several times to maintain its shape. Now, it had finally burst, leaving the children unable to play with it anymore.
The child who had last kicked the ball didn’t know what to do, looking bewildered.
Vikir found the expression on the panicking child’s face quite familiar.
Nymphet, the girl who didn’t open her heart to volunteers. Unlike her usual expressionless self, she was looking at her peers with a distressed expression, as if she didn’t know what to do and felt sorry.
Right at that moment, something astonishing happened.
Plop!
Madam Eight-Legs’ egg burst out of Vikir’s chest and bounced forward. It was as if the egg was urging the children to play with it, rolling lightly across the ground with a “thud, thud, thud.”
“Hey, it’s a ball!”
The children saw the egg bouncing towards them, and their faces lit up.
Although the egg bounced somewhat strangely and in a different direction, the children didn’t seem to mind. They eagerly made it their new ball, with little regard for the oddity.
Vikir, observing the egg rolling and bouncing around the playground, was taken aback.
The egg seemed to enjoy the children’s attention, remaining resilient despite the bounces. It seemed to have the perfect texture.
“Quite bizarre,” Vikir mumbled as he watched the children happily play with Madam’s egg. However, despite its appearance, that was undoubtedly a monster’s egg. It was not a suitable plaything for the children.
Vikir took a step forward to retrieve Madam’s egg from the children.
Just then, a discreet cough sounded from behind him.
Vikir ignored it and tried to take another step forward.
Cough! Cough!
A series of forced coughs, as if someone was trying hard to grab his attention, continued.
Vikir turned around, wondering what was going on, and recognized a familiar face in the midst of the children. It was Saint Dolores, standing before him with a slightly flushed face.
Vikir quickly collected Quilt’s records that he had left nearby and concealed them inside his pocket.
Saint Dolores observed his actions and narrowed her eyes. “Preparing notes for the exam? Studying during volunteer work? Surprisingly diligent.”
“What can I help you with?” Vikir asked with a stern tone.
Saint Dolores, with her reddened face, continued to cough a few more times before averting her gaze. “Um, well, just wondering about the volunteer work. I asked some other friends, and it seems like you’re working really hard. Are you okay with it?”
“Yes.”
“…”
“…”
“Ah, is that all? Your response?”
“Yes.”
“Well then.”
Dolores couldn’t adapt to Vikir’s brief answers. She had been living a life where every one-word question brought back ten or a hundred-word responses.
Dolores twiddled the ends of her hair with her fingers for a while before finally, with some effort, found her voice.
“Actually, I came here to talk about yesterday.”
Vikir raised an eyebrow. “Yesterday? I must have forgotten since it wasn’t important.”
As Vikir tried to recall what had happened yesterday between him and Dolores, she hesitated for a moment and then continued, “Well, you see, there’s a bit of a situation at home, and maybe that’s why… I may have overreacted to you yesterday. Still, you were trying to help me, I suppose. I’m really sorry for yelling and…”
Dolores began to explain the incident in the hallway where she had been shoved away by Vikir. But Vikir was no longer paying attention to her words because something far more significant had occurred.
Thunk!
Nymphet, with her foot, had launched Madam’s egg high into the air once again. This time, however, she missed the landing trajectory entirely.
Splunk!
The egg happened to land in a deep sewage ditch at the corner of the playground. All the children screamed.
“Aah! Not that! It was the last one!”
“Without that, we can’t play ‘Rugby’ anymore!”
“We have to retrieve it! If not…”
The problem was that this sewage ditch was draining into an underground sewage treatment plant, and the ball that had fallen in was no ordinary ball.
Gluuuurg…
Even as the children panicked, Madam’s egg was being carried away towards the sewage treatment plant. Furthermore, the sewage ditch was too deep and had a rapid current for the children to enter.
It was an urgent situation. Dolores couldn’t finish her sentence.
“I’m sorry… Huh?”
The object of her apology, Vikir, had sprinted toward the sewage ditch while the children desperately tried to catch their breath by the edge.
“It’s Deep. Move aside.”
Vikir briefly warned the children, who had gathered around the sewage ditch, flapping their feet, and then he leaped into it.
And then…
Splash!
Without a moment’s hesitation, he dived into the filthy water, and his body disappeared beneath the surface.
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