Chapter 141: Identity of the Villain (2)

Chapter 141: Identity of the Villain (2)

Dolores was deep in thought about last night's events.

'...That mask I picked up yesterday, I'm sure I've seen it before.'

That's right.

Dolores had gotten the call yesterday that the Imperial Guard was on its way, and in her capacity as Saintess of the Quovadis and head of the Academy's newspaper department, she had quickly responded.

She saw with her own eyes the devastation she had witnessed, the deaths of so many people and the destruction of so many buildings.

Buildings were lying in ruins as if a large amount of explosives had been set off, and the remains of mummified boys and girls were found beneath the ruins of the nursery school, their blood drained from their bodies.

The second- and third-year student journalists with me, and even the imperial guards, had never seen anything quite like it.

...And there was a half-burnt mask lying nearby.

Dolores moved stealthily and picked it up, hiding it in her arms from the sound of the footsteps behind her.

'It must have belonged to Mr. Night Hound, why would he be there....'

She thought back to the first time she met the Night Hound.

He had come to recover from a vacation at the academy.

A man who stood out amongst the visits of greedy, lowly nobles.

'He's ...just a lost lamb.'

I remember the first time I saw him, he bowed his head in humility, not boasting of his prestige or wealth.

Later, the Night Hound worked tirelessly to treat slum dwellers affected by the plague, the Red Death.

Though his appearance, identity, and behavior were questionable, his love and dedication to the less fortunate was genuine.

As proof, he even tapped into the divine power of the runes in a small way.

"The mask I picked up yesterday must have been his, because it had all the marks and bloodstains of a Red Death victim's struggle.

Dolores was certain that the half-burnt mask she had hidden in her arms was the one worn by the Night Hound.

But why was he at the scene of yesterday's tragedy?

Had he really killed the director of the orphanage and harmed the boys and girls in it?

'... But why the good man?'

I do not believe that the image of the night hound treating the poor of St Mecca, the noble and holy image of treating people despite being covered in all kinds of filth, was just acting.

She has always believed that the Night Hound, who stole the Saint's tears at the end, must have been doing so for a cause.

"Could it really be him, the Night Hound? No, it can't be, my eyes are accurate, he's not a wicked man, and if he is the culprit... surely, surely there must be something going on.'

Dolores felt her head begin to ache.

The mask in her arms must be evidence of last night's murder, and by hiding it from the guards, she was guilty of destroying evidence.

She had no excuse, no accomplice, for letting her personal feelings interfere with the investigation.

So Dolores had been suffering since last night for the trust she had placed in the Night Hound, and for the guilt of hindering the Guard's investigation by hiding him.

'Did I really do the right thing by hiding that mask? Was I doing the right thing?'

She thought about it when she woke up, when she bathed, when she ate, when she was in class, and even now, here, at the club meeting.

Even.

'By the way... I don't know if Mr. Night Hound will be okay. It seems like he was caught in a huge explosion that burned half of his mask off, and even though he's a very strong man, if he wasn't able to defend himself properly, I wonder where he is now... and what he's doing? I wonder if he's seriously injured and suffering somewhere....'

I'm even worried about that.

Dolores didn't know why she was worried about him now, not even the underlying reason.

Then.

"'Night Hound'... sounds good!" Fôllôw new stories at novelhall.com

A voice next to her broke Dolores out of her reverie.

"Huh?"

Dolores looked up to see a group of second- and third-year students already busily working.

Whirring, whirring, whirring.

The newspapers that will be distributed today were already being torn out.

??

Dolores turned her head with a dazed expression, and Piggy beside her gave a thumbs up.

"I think I like the nickname 'Night Hound', it's a bit barbaric, but that's what makes it all the more violent, isn't it?"

"Mmmm. I think so, too. There's something sinister about it."

"I'm afraid I agree. It's always happened at night."

Tudor and Sancho nodded in agreement with Piggy.

Countless faces flashed through his mind.

The world of destruction, the hell that would unfold within the next decade, the faces of so many he had failed to protect.

The end of colleagues, comrades-in-arms, friends, older brothers, younger sisters, and all the people you miss and love.

How could he be anything but a sinner, carrying their lives and sacrifices on his shoulders and coming back alive alone.

So Vikir was able to say firmly.

"He's a villain for sure."

Because he was never a good man.

...?

The Tudor who asked the question is unusually quiet.

"?"

Vikir looked up.

He saw the confused looks on Tudor's face and the shaky gazes of the other new students.

They were all staring at Vikir's back.

Vikir turned his head to see Dolores's face staring down at him with a cold gaze.

"What have you been listening to all this time, that the Night Hound is a villain?"

How did they get this far?

Dolores, who just happened to be walking by, asks you coldly if you heard the entire conversation between Tudor and Vikir.

"...."

When Vikir doesn't answer, she repeats herself.

"You may miss ten thieves, but don't make one innocent citizen. No matter how circumstantial the evidence, find the last hard evidence you can, and then report it."

"...."

"If the 'pen is mightier than the sword', then the pen should be heavier than the sword. You should take responsibility as a journalist from now on. Don't just blurt out things you're not sure about without thinking."

Dolores's words, which are directed at Vikir, cause the entire freshman class to tense up.

But Vikir just sits there with a nonchalant expression on his face.

Dolores, who was even more displeased with his attitude, added a sarcastic remark.

"I thought your name was Vikir. Are you even tardy anymore?"

Vikir had been photographed by Dolores since the beginning of the semester and had received several detentions.

But when Vikir remained silent, Dolores took a deep breath as if to say something more.

"Anyway, new students these days are the best... ... When I was... ... ."

Then. A sophomore member burst into the club room, looking for Dolores.

"Boss! "The Club advisor Professor Banshee wants to see you for a moment!"

"What? Why?"

"Because of this article! He wants me to revise the article to say that Night Hound is definitely evil!"

"Haha... he's a conservative and likes to make enemies on the outside. Okay, I'll talk to him."

Dolores wrapped up the conversation.

He followed the sophomore out of the clubhouse to meet with Professor Banshee.

Only then did the stale air in the room release.

Tudor breathed a sigh of relief and patted Vikir on the shoulder.

"I'm talking about you and the director. You seem like a bit of an old man."

"... ... It was like that in the old days."

"A long ago? when?"

"There was a time when it was just like that."

Vikir only smiles faintly.

'Why don't you push the paladin line tighter? They're so irreligious these days!'

'The younger ones are slipping away, and I want them to slay at least one more demon in their spare time!'

'Back in my day, if a demon came out, I'd just run straight to it and bang!'

'You're stronger! Charge!'

'Heroes don't die!'

Before he regressed, Dolores was in her 30s, leading the Paladins on the front lines of the Battlefield of Destruction.