The Black-Stockinged Nun Is Actually a Boy?! [30]

Seeing that Natalie was already spent, Helen didn’t push her further. Instead, he opened the last bronze chest—the seventh one.

“A… flower?” Helen stared, stunned, at the crimson bloom floating inside.

Even after all he’d seen in his past life, all the transcendent relics and rare artifacts, he couldn’t identify this thing.

Inside the bronze chest, the flower kept shifting—rose, camellia, lavender, iris—changing species again and again.

Whatever. If I saw it, it’s mine. Helen reached out.

The moment his pale, delicate hand closed around the strange bloom, it vanished. Or rather, it disappeared the instant he touched it.

“What the hell?” Helen withdrew his hand, checking both his body and the Seed inside him. No abnormalities.

“Helen, I sense someone approaching,” Natalie, still lying on the floor, sat up abruptly.

Not good—the Nightwatch were here!

Helen’s heart lurched. He turned, quickly hauling Natalie to her feet. “Can you still fly?”

Natalie’s cheeks were flushed, breath uneven. “I can. Might not be too steady, though.”

Helen nodded. “Good enough. We move.”

Natalie’s gaze lingered on the chest—on the property deeds and piles of treasure still inside.

“No. Those deeds and notes are tied to the Ares family. If we move them, we’ll be tracked down instantly.” Helen cut her off at once.

Natalie snatched up two gold coins instead. “Then just a little money, at least?”

Helen faltered. He was broke, after all. And Natalie was just as much a little miser as he was. After a brief struggle, he too reached into the chest and grabbed a fistful of coins.

But nun habits had no pockets. Not even inner linings. That left the two of them holding coins in their hands, with nowhere to stash them!

“Ugh, whatever!” Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, yanked open her collar, and shoved the coins inside.

Helen froze, wide-eyed.

“Don’t just stare—hurry and stash yours too!” Natalie was so mortified she could barely speak, but still stuffed four or five coins straight into her snow-white chest.

Helen’s face went red. I’m a guy, how the hell am I supposed to…

Wait.

“Ugh, whatever!” Helen squeezed his eyes shut, lifted the hem of his nun’s skirt, and stuffed the coins down into his stockings.

When we get back to the capital, I am buying a damn magic pouch.

When we get back to the capital, I am buying a damn magic pouch.

The thought rang in both their minds at the same time.

…

Rog, thirty-three years old. Lives in a villa in the Upper City of the capital. Unmarried.

Currently employed in the official transcendent order Nightwatch, serving as the dignified captain of a [Tier 3 Paladin] squad.

Every night before bed, he practiced a [Perfect Strike] against a wooden post to satisfy the urge, ensuring eight hours of deep sleep. Afterward, he drank a cup of warm milk, stretched for twenty minutes, and then rested soundly till dawn.

Like a baby, free of fatigue or stress, perfectly healthy—as the Church’s health checkups by nuns constantly confirmed.

That pleasant rhythm of life was shattered tonight.

“Captain, the Child of Life has been eradicated. We found no cultists nearby.” A man in chainmail and black cloak dismounted and reported. “The Church’s Inquisition requests a word with you.”

Rog, whose circadian clock had just been smashed to pieces, groaned and turned. “Fine. I understand. Keep a close watch. That abomination didn’t appear on its own. Someone—or something—lured it here.”

These mindless, desecrated things did not act with intent. For one to blunder right into his jurisdiction… the message was clear.

Damn it. There goes my year-end bonus.

As he grumbled, a figure in a green robe approached, flanked by Inquisitors.

“Captain Rog, you’ll also be heading to the Ares estate?” Demetri asked evenly.

Rog blinked back to awareness, bowing quickly. “Vice High Priest, you outrank me. Command belongs to you. Please direct us.”

Demetri gave no answer, only spoke casually: “Next month, on the sixth, High Priest Basilis ascends as Archbishop, taking command of the Inquisition. I expect you to attend.”

Two ranks at once?

Rog understood immediately. He dismounted at once, bowing lower. “Vice High Priest Demetri—no, High Priest Demetri—I have five men here. All await your orders.”

Demetri nodded in satisfaction, pointing toward the burning manor in the distance. “Go scout it.”

“Yes, sir.” Rog mounted his mechanical steed again, leading his Nightwatch squad toward the Ares estate.

The Inquisitors followed.

When they arrived, the scene was carnage. A once-beautiful garden trampled as if by war. Grand facades either crusted with frost or scorched black.

“Report: numerous desecrated creatures dead here. Suspected hand of the Seventh Lord.” One Inquisitor materialized by Demetri’s side.

The Seventh Lord—that was how they referred to the Lord of Disease, to avoid His gaze from the Hollow Void.

“Numerous? Then perhaps the Ares family was attacked by cultists,” Rog ventured.

“I doubt it.” Demetri dismounted, walking to a slain tentacle-beast. “Despite the transformation, the clothing lingers. Still looks like a servant’s uniform.”

The others checked, and indeed—remnants of household attire. They also discovered the bodies of Leo Ares and his butler.

“Amen.” Demetri crossed himself, offering the sign of rest.

Rog broke out in a cold sweat. The tentacles still sprouting from their corpses sparked a terrible suspicion in his heart.

“Profiler—your report,” Demetri ordered, turning.

A masked nun stepped forward, holding a parchment. “The Lord reveals: a [Witch], a [Wyrd Stalker], a [Warrior], an Assassin-class… and one caster of infernal origin. Beyond that, unclear.”

“[Wyrd Stalker] and [Warrior] were Ares [Seeds]. Then were the attackers Satanists?” Rog reasoned, but shook his head. No—how to explain the desecrated abominations otherwise?

And another possibility flickered in his heart, but he dared not voice it aloud.

“The attackers were… three.” The nun closed her lips after speaking, turning to glance at Demetri.

She, too, knew something was wrong.

“Not good.” Demetri’s face hardened. He spurred his horse straight toward the manor house.

The others followed swiftly.

He dismounted at the villa, raced upstairs, and burst into the top-floor study.

Chaos. The bookshelves overturned, the seven bronze chests plundered. Only the deeds, gold, and jewels remained.

“Fragment of the Seventh Space—[Flower Realm].” Demetri’s eyes fell on the empty seventh chest. His voice broke into a furious laugh. “Audacious. Audacious! These three intruders—dig the earth three feet deep if you must, but find them!”

His final roar shook the room.

Rog and the rest looked at one another, stricken.

[Space Fragments]—each one a miniature world. Like hidden utopias. In the Republic’s days, Rome built eighteen such fragments, saving the nation from annihilation multiple times. Now, only seven remained.

The Holy Light Church of the West held three. The Eastern Empire one. The Frankish Empire one. And the Radiant Church here, two: the Flower Realm and the Sea Realm.

Such a fragment could only be activated by a Tier 5 transcendent or higher. Which meant… were the thieves Tier 5?

How had the Ares family come to hold one at all? And how had it been lost? This was supposed to be under the Patriarch’s personal protection!

The only explanation… was that the Church had lent it out.

“Spread the word. Satanists and cultists of the Void conspired, slaughtered the Ares family, and stole their treasures. The Ares died fighting bravely to the last!” Demetri’s gaze speared Rog like a blade, daring him to contradict.

Cold sweat drenched Rog’s back. He understood—this was his script to sell.

“…Yes. I understand.” He lowered his head, though inside a storm raged.

Think carefully—could a middling noble house really practice Void worship right under Church and Empire eyes?

Walls have ears, especially in a world with magic. For the Ares to worship the Void meant someone protected them.

The Ares family wasn’t clean. Neither was the Church.

Damn it. My job… my poor job…

The realization broke him. Rog wanted to weep. To quit. To die.

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This is a fan translation of 黑丝修女姐姐居然是男孩子？ by 水滴磐石 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!