Chapter 148: Volunteering on the Golden Week (6)

Chapter 148: Volunteering on the Golden Week (6)

Dolores Rune Quovadis, Saint of the Faithful Quovadis.

She hadn't always liked Vikir.

Or rather, she was more of a hater.

Ever since she'd first met him at the Academy, she'd had an unflattering image of him.

-'Vikir. Class B. What did you do to earn so many demerits already?'

-'....'

-'You know that accumulating too many demerits, even if they're attitude points, will hurt your grades. Sometimes you'll have to miss lectures and do community service. Do you understand?'

-'I understand.'

-'... Let's see.'

A lazy junior with a pile of demerits for being a freshman.

He didn't even show any embarrassment or guilt when he was called out for his bad behavior, such as being late or entering restricted areas.

Not only was he lazy and shameless, but he was also arrogant.

Even Vikir, as soon as he entered the newsroom, didn't hesitate to say something sour about the Night Hound.

'He's a villain, that's for sure.'

When Dolores heard Vikir speak ill of the Night Hound, she felt something stir inside her.

Who was he to judge him so presumptuously?

How dare he judge him, a freshman college student with a full stomach and a roof over his head, a lazy, delinquent life in a cradle like this?

Dolores thought of the Night Hound.

Sure, he was now a suspect in the terrorist attack on Quovadis's branch, but Dolores firmly believed in her heart that he was not a bad person.

The memories of treating the poor with him when the plague known as the Red Death ravaged the slums of St. Mecca were still fresh in her mind.

'How could I call him a wicked man when I saw the way he never stopped treating his patients, even when he was covered in their own feces?'

The holy spirit of sacrifice that the Night Hound displayed then was certainly not something that could be mimicked by acting.

For indeed, his soul was rough and scarred, but it nevertheless radiated an aura of purity beyond that of any of the priests.

Who the Night Hound was, and where he came from, Dolores did not know.

But she could guess that he had walked through countless thorny paths in his life, and the good that had blossomed out of those wounds was holy and noble, she thought.

To be vilified, oppressed, persecuted, and yet persist in doing good and making sacrifices. A martyr.

That's how Dolores characterized the Night Hound.

That's why she didn't like people who criticized martyrs.

She didn't like people who spoke ill of martyrs, because she knew how much of a burden they put on the shoulders of those who walked the thorny path, hiding in their safe and comfortable places, with words spoken without thought.

...Is that why?

Dolores could never harbor good feelings for Vikir.

The first time Vikir covered her mouth and pushed her up against the wall, she was dumbfounded.

But later, when she saw Guilty pass by in the hallway, she was furious.

She was a saint of the Quovadis, and Guilty was a lowly cleric, a mere member of her family.

There was no reason for Dolores to be intimidated by status.

'I mean, even if you're forced to insult a saint, you can still repent by paying an offering.'

Guilty had even said some insulting things about Dolores.

This made Dolores even more angry at Vikir. Nêww chapters will be fully updated at novelhall.com

If it weren't for Vikir, he would have stormed out of the room and punished Quilty.

Dolores then walked away, angry at Vikir.

And exactly a few seconds later.

She regretted her anger.

As with any good person, time passes and the anger subsides and you see your mistakes.

Dolores thought back to the situation earlier.

Vikir had obviously been acting in good faith, covering up for him to avoid an uncomfortable situation.

And to be honest, Dolores felt uncomfortable, even a little scared, to see Guilty.

You might be thinking, why be afraid of an inferior, but Guilty wasn't just an inferior.

Sometimes in life, there are people who are clearly beneath you, but they don't feel like beneath you.

For Dolores, that was Guilty.

His smirking, brash, and laid-back demeanor at any given moment made Dolores feel uncomfortable.

She was also well aware that Guilty's absolute confidence came from money, especially the enormous offerings he made to the higher-ups.

As the patriarch of House Indulgentia, Guilty used the money she earned from selling indulgences to pay bribes in the guise of offerings, and she had built up an impressive network of connections and power.

With his wealth and connections, it's clear that Guilty is a man not to be trifled with, not even by the saintly Dolores of Quovadis Family.

So when he openly insulted her sexually, she had no recourse other than to get angry.

And this conflict within the Quovadis was already known to the world through newspaper reports.

Under these circumstances, it's hard to blame Vikir for trying to be considerate.

'...No, you should be grateful.'

Dolores had to admit to herself.

If she had run into Guilty in the hallway earlier, she might have lost control of her expression and made a mistake.

And he had Vikir to thank for preventing that from happening.

...What's more.

'It's suffocating.'

Vikir frowned, obviously looking at Guilty.

It's clear from this that Vikir doesn't like the idea of Guilty selling indulgences either.

Dolores agreed with Vikir on that point, which made her feel slightly better about his image.

'Still, it's not like he's going to shove a girl he doesn't know up against a wall, and it's not like we're having some kind of... thing going on.'

For someone who had never been with a man before, being pushed up against a wall in his arms was definitely a powerful memory.

Honestly, it still makes her heart skip a beat when she thinks about it,

"Studying for a writing test? You're studying all the way through a volunteer job? ... Hmm, you're surprisingly diligent."

"What is it?"

Vikir's tone was hard. He was obviously upset about yesterday's incident.

Dolores stuttered slightly.

"Uhhhh, um, I was just, uh, wondering. I was wondering how your volunteer work is going. I asked some of your friends, and it seems like you're working pretty hard. Is it worth it?"

"Yeah."

"...."

"...."

"...Ah, is that it, answer?"

"Yeah."

"...Okay."

Dolores panicked, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

'Was conversation supposed to be this hard?'

All of the people she'd met so far had always spoken to her without her having to initiate the conversation, and the answers had always come naturally.

Before she could even ask a question, she'd have a long list of things she wanted to know, and things she didn't want to know.

But Vikir was different.

He doesn't say anything unless it's necessary.

Even if the other person is the third-year student council president and a saint of one of the seven great houses of the Empire.

Eventually, Dolores decided to come clean.

"..., actually. I'm here to talk to you about what happened yesterday."

"...?"

Vikir's brow furrowed slightly.

Apparently, the memory of yesterday was very uncomfortable.

Dolores closed her eyes tightly and decided to be honest.

"Well, it's just that we have a bit of a family history... and I think I overreacted to you yesterday, but I'm sure you were just trying to help me, and what I did yesterday when I yelled at you was really...."

But.

She couldn't finish her apology.

...Pot!

Vikir jumped out of her seat and ran off somewhere.

"I'm sorry... huh?"

Dolores looked up.

No, forgiveness can't be forced, but still, it's a bit much for someone to apologize so sincerely and then just walk away....

Dolores looked up, embarrassed, ashamed, and disappointed.

What?

"What!"

Dolores's eyes widened.

The direction Vikir was running was toward the sewers where the children were clustered.

It was too deep and dirty for them to go near.

Some of the children were already peering dangerously into the sewers.

Dolores quickly ran towards the sewer.

As she approached, she saw that Nymphet was crying.

'Oh, the ball....'

The ball they were playing with had fallen into the sewer.

She knew that because of the lack of supplies, the children were using the same old ball over and over again.

She would often buy a new ball for them every time she visited, but with so many children playing with it, it would quickly become worn out and burst.

How heartbroken would the children be to have their new balls go down the sewer?

...When Dolores is thinking.

"It's deep. Get out of the way."

Vikir's short warning followed.

"?"

Dolores turned her head with a puzzled expression.

...Blast!

Vikir leaped into the sewers. Without a moment's hesitation.

... Puff, puff, puff, puff!

In the disgusting wastewater, Vikir moved like a swimmer, eventually retrieving the ball that the children had dropped.

Yuck!

As Vikir climbs out of the sewer, he is approached by a group of frightened children.

"Don't play near the sewer, it's dangerous. I've smoothed out the playground over there, so you can play there and... the ball is dirty, so I'll wash it and give it back to you."

Vikir said nonchalantly, dripping with filth.

And.

"...."

Dolores looked at Vikir's broad back, covered in dirt, and suddenly felt her whole body heat up.

'What, what, why?'

His cheeks grew so hot that he had to bring a cold palm to them.

It was a truly strange and strange feeling that even I could not guess its identity.

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note: i forget this, oppa is only used by girls, while hyung is only used by boys, in previous chapter I translate it as brothe