What should I do if the hero is resurrected in the Monster Girl Encyclopedia?

Chapter 200 Crying and Reunion

"Uh... Miss Obora, you really have the ability to keep Lord St. Gard in the mortal world, right?"

With her hands under Sister Joanna's armpits, Kissfield dragged the disarmed, drowsy girl to a high-backed chair. Her long brown hair cascaded down her chest, and she couldn't resist poking Joanna's pale cheek with her fingertip. "Did you just sever the magical link between her and that high angel?"

"Yes. Our research on His technique has reached the final stage... We can still sever the link. But it should only be this once. After this, the other side will likely be more vigilant, and those saints and heroes who are still lurking should no longer show themselves."

Obora moved her chair to Sister Joanna's side, lifted the latter's eyelids with her fingers, and examined her lifeless eyes. "She was also corrupted by the demon's magic when she fought you... Now all she needs is time. Of course, it would be even better if there were holy remains as a support."

"The holy remains are..."

"The remains of Saint Gard. I remember she was first buried in the capital she had reclaimed, and later moved to the Holy Land."

"It won't be possible to get it anytime soon, will it?"

"Hmm. Let's take it slow."

Kieslfield nodded and walked towards the door. "I'll go and comfort the children. They seem to be getting impatient... I'll just say that Sister Joanna was too tired and fell asleep..."

The door closed softly. Only Obora and the unconscious Sister Joanna remained in the empty room.

The narrow space was completely intact, and there was no indication that just minutes before, two powerful individuals capable of destroying half a city with a single move had been exchanging blows here.

...Gazing at Sister Joanna's face for a moment, Obora took out the Reflection Mirror, lightly tapped her fingertip on the smooth surface, and summarized the events that had occurred here into a brief message of one or two sentences.

The mirror flickered, and soon Mirad's concise reply appeared: Received. Proceed with caution in the near future.

Looking at those words, she let out a soft breath. No need for a complicated or formulaic reply; just seeing the other party's brief response calmed her anxious mind considerably.

The door was gently pushed open a crack, and Kissfield returned, carrying two bottles of steaming tea. She smiled and said, "The children are all settled... I noticed you didn't look too well, Miss Obora, so I made some tea. The orphanage doesn't have any good tea, just some tea leaves and scraps. Please don't mind, Miss Obora."

She took the tea, and through the hazy steam, she could see that the murky liquid contained only tiny, almost imperfect particles. She took a small sip; it was so weak that she could barely taste any flavor. "Kissfield... I actually... have something I'm hiding from you."

"Hmm? What happened? Is it related to meeting the older man? Could it be that it's not what I suspected?"

Kieslfield looked the petite little girl sitting in the high-backed chair before her with suspicion, her face sculpted like a delicate doll. Long, straight, jet-black hair, bright eyes like pure gold… she was undeniably adorable, but with one fatal flaw… her figure was far too childish! Upon closer inspection, aside from her legs and lower body being slightly more fleshy and fuller than the children in the orphanage, she appeared to be only a little girl of about six years old!

Based on Kiesl's understanding of older men, the type of girl they like shouldn't be this type... otherwise, the short little nun who followed him around for so long and tried so hard to win him over wouldn't have failed to even get to home base...

Wow, thinking about it carefully, it's kind of pitiful.

But if that guy actually succeeds, her own Mirror of Reflection will be overflowing with videos and photos he sends from all angles and poses, all for showing off. Thinking of Hyolitta's smug, nose-high expression, Kissfield extinguished her newly formed sympathy! Reality is ruthless!

So, the reason why Miss Obora was so ashamed and reluctant to tell me about what happened when we met, could it be that...

She fully utilized the monster's instincts and initiative, and with the help of those strange and wonderful potions, she took the initiative to attack and slay the old man...?

hiss……

Kieslfield covered her mouth, her mind racing.

The older man is definitely the type who would take full responsibility for this kind of thing, so that makes sense. It's understandable that Miss Obora was reluctant to tell me. This kind of explosive information is probably very difficult for her to accept, especially since I haven't fully become a monster yet.

"No, it's alright... Miss Obora. I know this is hard to talk about, but monsters are... I can understand... I totally understand!"

Kissfield nodded, blushing. "Even after what happened, didn't Uncle still let you stay by his side? That means he already has a place for you in his heart, isn't that amazing?"

"...?"

Eborah tilted her head slightly.

What is this child babbling about?

Seeing Kissfield's eyes darting around, avoiding eye contact, and occasionally glancing between her legs with a suspicious blush on her face, Obora felt a little uneasy under her gaze. She unconsciously squeezed her full legs together, leaving no gap.

She was quite certain that Kissfield in front of her was confusing trivial fantasies with the sins she truly bore.

Obora sighed softly, her fingertips tracing the rim of the teacup. Warm steam rose, blurring the subtle atmosphere between them.

"Stop overthinking. All those random speculations in your head... aren't true."

She took a sip of the coarse tea, feeling the warm liquid dance on her tongue, flow down her esophagus, and into her stomach, bringing a touch of warmth to the continuous rainy weather.
“I…have done so many wrong things. So many that I can’t forgive myself for the past. That’s why I’ve devoted myself to various causes…hoping to seek the well-being of humanity and find peace of mind for myself.” Kissfield’s joking expression faded, and she asked softly, “…I see. So the reasons for hiding things from me, and the reasons for helping me…are all related to the wrong things you’ve done, Miss Obora?”

"…………Um."

Oprah raised her head, her voice trembling slightly.
"This is all I can tell you right now... I'm terrified. You'll turn against me once you know the truth, so I'm sorry. I can't tell you everything right now, please forgive my concealment."

As soon as she finished speaking, Obora picked up her teacup again, burying half of her face in the rising steam, letting it wet her cheeks... as if that way she could no longer see the child's expression.

"I thought it was something else..."

A warm hand suddenly covered the back of Obora's hand, which was tightly gripping the teacup. She instinctively tried to pull away, but the hand was held even tighter. Baphomet's immense strength, which he was so proud of, seemed utterly insignificant in the face of the girl's persistence.

"Isn't it good to correct your mistakes? Miss Obora is actually quite genuine!"

Even when obscured by the misty heat, her bright and radiant smile was still clearly discernible.

Obora knew the girl in front of her would forgive her with a smile. But she couldn't accept such a bright smile, especially if the other girl knew about her disgusting past…

"Let me tell you a little secret~"

The person holding her hand suddenly leaned closer, the fiery red hair brushing against Obora's cheek. "Right now, I really, really like you, Miss Obora! Second only to how much I like you, old man, okay?"

Those golden eyes pierced through the mist, looking straight into Obola's heart. "So... there's no need to be so afraid! No matter what you've done, Miss Obola, I'll stand by your side. After all..."

Kieslfield's smile was even more radiant, surpassing even the sunrise.

"You're my great benefactor! You're both gentle and strong. Miss Obora, who once took my hand and led me out of the forest, is absolutely amazing!"

Abola suddenly lowered her head, and a tear fell into the tea soup, creating tiny ripples on the murky surface.

"Eh, eh...?"

Kiesl was immediately flustered.

"Why are you crying... Don't cry, don't cry, I have some candy for you...?"

She frantically rummaged through her handbag, "No, no, I was just thinking of you as a child because you're so small! Anyway, my handkerchief, where's my handkerchief...?"

"Gah." A steady voice came from beside him, handing over a plain white silk handkerchief.

"Oh, okay, thank you..." Kissfield took the handkerchief and then realized, "Wait, why did I hear an old man's voice...?"

"Wow... what a touching conversation."

A frivolous voice, infuriatingly sweet, was wasted on its own owner. Lilim, with her long, silver-white hair, emerged from the ground alongside the blond, blue-eyed youth. She bent down to observe Opola's expression.

"Even that stern and impartial professor shed tears. I've never seen him with such red eyes before! Waaah... Siolitta, I'm so jealous!"

Obora quickly wiped away her tears with her sleeve, regaining her usual indifference and composure. "Your Highness... peeping is a bad habit. I remember I've taught you this many times."

"That's called caring, sister!"

The girl leaped lightly off the ground, her skirt billowing in the air.
"But it's really unexpected. I didn't know you could make that kind of expression. It's so cute, second only to the dazed look on your face when you catch cream on your cheek!"

Luo Gen poked her head out of the ground. "If Xiao Xi were holding a handkerchief instead of the Reflection Mirror, I think it would be more convincing."

"She's not a puppet, of course she'll cry."

Mirad rubbed Hiolitta's head and gently made her bow towards Obola as a gesture of apology.

Then, a soft, warm body, carrying a sweet fragrance, crashed into his arms. The girl's leaping motion caused his face to sink completely into two plump, soft mounds, the body temperature beneath her clothes incredibly hot.

His nostrils were filled with the intertwined scent of roses and orange blossoms, and each labored breath caused the astonishing rise and fall of his voice to press against the contours of Mirad's face. The girl's joyful laughter, coming from her chest, transformed into alluring waves that engulfed him.

"Uncle! Have you missed me after all this time?"

(End of this chapter)