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

Chapter 203 The Death of Obola

"The drainpipes on Lorraine Street are clogged..."

"I cleared the blockage when I came; it was mostly trash and leaves that had been washed away by the floodwater."

“Several families on Pisco Road complained about the excessive dampness in their homes and wanted to ask you for advice… I looked into it and found that an elderly person in one of their families has severe rheumatoid arthritis. They offered to do a day's work in exchange for your help, but I refused.”

"We encountered those households on the road. We also asked Luo Gen to help install dehumidifying magic devices powered by the Sun Wheel in their homes."

"Powered by the sun?"

Obora raised an eyebrow, put down the magic mirror with its densely written to-do list, and turned her head to look at the rain-drenched glass window... It was noon, but outside it was as dark as night. She remained silent for a while, then looked back at the blond, blue-eyed man in front of her.

“The sun wheel provides power… but we have stored magic power that should last through this rainy season,” Mirad explained.

"Then there's no problem. I trust the child's skills."

Obora silently crossed out one item from the list.

With the help of the radical faction's intelligence network, the popularity that Mirad has rapidly built in the lower city, and the word-of-mouth among the residents, Mirad no longer has to run around like a headless fly these days. Instead, he can compile a list of the residents' demands and matters and deal with them one by one.

Although Loran, with his deadpan expression, said, "Dude, you really look like a player obsessed with unclogging toilets," Mirand actually thought this method was quite good. It could quickly find the residents' pain points and needs, efficient and precise. Anyway, most of them were just small tasks, so why not do it?

"Uncle, I'm here! Have you missed me? I've missed you so much!"

The slight dampness in the room vanished instantly, and even Mirad's shirt, which he hadn't had time to dry with magic, became dry and crisp.

A warm, voluptuous body enveloped Mirard from behind, her slender, pale arms circling his neck, carrying a rich fragrance, and with a gentle turn, she swept her fiery red hair across Mirard's cheek before gracefully spinning into his embrace.

Kiesl's hands were still around Mirard's neck, her full and long legs were comfortably curled up and gently swaying. Her boots had been kicked to the corner at some point, and her graceful feet, wrapped in pure white cotton socks, were resting on the armrests of the chair, her toes playfully tapping.

"What are you talking about with Miss Obora?"

She leaned closer to the mirror in Obola's hand, her body shifting so that Mirad had to support her waist as she leaned forward. "Let me see... Oh, it's so detailed... Was this information provided by the radicals?"

Obora simply watched this scene silently. Instead of speaking out to stop it, she turned the magic mirror in her hand so that the girl in Mirad's arms could see it.

Seeing that Obora made no attempt to hide her indulgence of Kissfield, Mirad frowned. "Part of it. Also, don't let your guard down too much... Kissfield. You're still under surveillance, aren't you? Did you sneak out?"

As he spoke, he raised his hand and gently slapped away the mischievous socked foot that was causing trouble… Just moments ago, the girl had been pretending to be casual, repeatedly rubbing her ankle against the back of his hand that was supporting her leg. The soft yet slightly rough feel of the cotton sock still lingered on his hand… He didn't even need to look to know that Kissfield in his arms was laughing unrestrainedly and boldly.

"I missed you so much, Uncle, that's why I came out. Also, Uncle, you sound so old-fashioned when you start scolding people... Frown less, although it has a certain charm, but worrying is really bad for your health."

Kissfield reached out her fingers to smooth the wrinkles between Mirad's brows, slowly tracing the contours of his brow bone, but just before touching the arch, she abruptly changed direction and placed her finger on the tip of his nose. Her nails, painted with bright red nail polish and cleverly adorned with glitter and sequins, lingered near his nose, gently scratching.

"Where was I just thinking of...?"

Her long, flowing golden hair cascaded down Mirad's chest, and the distance between their eyes suddenly closed, so close that they could see their own reflections in each other's eyes. She murmured softly, her warm breath swirling around his lips, "Ah, I remember now..."

"Uncle, when are you going to send those maggots and bastards that are entrenched in the upper levels to hell for remodeling... Is it also the welcoming ceremony the day after tomorrow? I'm getting so impatient."

"I got picked on by those old fogies in the Senate again this morning. I'm only talking to you guys, Uncle and Miss Obora. Oh, that Viscount, what was it again? Anyway, that's the kind of person he is. He's practically begging to kneel down and lick the soles of Nosculim's shoes, but he insists on acting all high and mighty in front of the other senators. It's hilarious."

“The one who meets the criteria… is Marquis Samir.” Opola corrected softly, lightly tapping the magic mirror with her fingertip to bring up the relevant information… but she couldn’t help but close it after just one glance.

"Huh? Not a viscount... Oh well, it's pretty much the same."

Kissfield tilted her head and thought for a moment, then waved her hand dismissively, "Speaking of which, I ran into that little girl from the Northculim family again today... That girl must be staking out my interrogation room, right? She always manages to bump into me with perfect timing."

"What did they talk about?" Mirad asked.

The little girl from the Nosculim family… I should be referring to Wilmarina. Mirad recalled his brief encounter with this girl, who was known as the strongest heroine in the Land of Thunder. She was quite strong and had feelings for a servant's son from a vastly different social class… She was someone who, if won over, could influence the situation to some extent.

"Oh, of course I asked her when she plans to confess her feelings to her crush!"

Kissfield swung her toes triumphantly.

"You guys didn't see that expression! Her cold face turned red in an instant, and she hurriedly pulled me to a secluded place to explain that what she felt wasn't liking, but just longing, just friendship, and that the other person didn't have those feelings for her, blah blah blah. Wow, that reaction was so youthful, bittersweet, making you want to give her a push."

"Hmm... How could such a girl's crush possibly escape my eyes? Of course, Matt and Sophie are definitely an exception and an anomaly... Who would have thought those two would get together?"

"And then... you encouraged that girl to confess?" "I told her to try to find out his attitude first... and then I taught her the disguise magic I learned from you, Uncle, with a little bit of my own understanding, which made it super useful! She promised to go and ask him this afternoon when she has some free time."

"Disguise magic... Oh. I learned it from Klinshid."

Mirad covered his face with his hand, and with a slight tremor, his deep-set face with blond hair and blue eyes transformed into... Obora's adorable, slightly chubby face.

"Pfft... Uncle, are you teasing a child here..."

Kiesl looked back and forth between Mirad and Obola, but couldn't help but laugh out loud.

She suddenly twisted her waist and hips deftly, changing from sitting sideways to sitting face-to-face with Mirad, her slender waist arching back in a breathtaking arc, and she opened her arms to Obola.

"Miss Obora, come on over... Let me compare and see if this uncle's face has been skimped on~"

Obora looked at Mirad and saw him nod in agreement. She then lifted the hem of her mage's robe and gracefully sat down between the two of them, her back to Mirad, leaning her entire back against his chest... This action made her feel as if she were enveloped by the two of them.

Obora raised her head, just enough to expose her delicate neckline to Kieslfield's reach.

Of course... what was also exposed was the gruesome wound on Obola's neck that she had always concealed with a collar or ribbon.

Kieslfield's slender fingers slipped between the ribbon and Obora's neck skin, and with a gentle flick, the ugly scar was fully revealed. "Hmm... such a deep wound... does it still hurt, Miss Obora?"

“There will be a little bit.” Opola looked away.

"When?" Mirad dispelled the magic of disguise, and Obora's leaning against him brought her ram's horns to his face... so naturally, he reached out and rubbed them.

"……Now."

Obora lowered her head, her hair obscuring her eyes, and she tried her best to suppress her increasingly erratic breathing.

The door was kicked open with a bang, followed by the clear, lively voice of Lilim.

"Your Highness is back from your big shopping spree! Lord Mirad, have you... little sister-in-law, pinch me."

"Oh."

"Ouch! Why are you pinching my face! My arm, my arm!"

"I'm too lazy to bend over." Luo Gen continued to stretch Lilim's soft, tender face beside him without changing his expression... It has to be said that the feel was indeed top-notch, addictive.

Hiolitta angrily broke free from the other's clutches, pointing at the scene on the recliner, her voice trembling, "I was only gone for a short while, you big-breasted hottie with an excess of body fat and that goat-like BBA with an excess of lower body fat! How dare you try to crush Lord Mirad with your weight while I was away! Get off Lord Mirad's lap!"

"Hey, hey... what are you doing!"

Suddenly her vision shifted, and Hyolitta looked down in alarm at the ground. She was being lifted up by Loran's mechanical arm, and no matter how much she kicked her legs, it was useless. She was getting closer and closer to the three people sitting on top of each other.
"Luo Gen, it wasn't me! Why did your mechanical arm have to malfunction at this crucial moment! Put me down!"

Luo Gen grinned mischievously, "Stop pretending, Xiao Xi. You actually really want to sit on it, don't you?"

"Something's not right! It looks like it's Oprah-sensei who's about to collapse... Is she really okay? Oprah-sensei is about to have a nosebleed!"

"No...no problem, Your Highness...this is a sin I must atone for..."

Ebola was barely breathing, and bright red blood slowly trickled down from her nose, but her golden eyes remained eerily calm... except that her pupils had changed from round to the horizontal pupils of a goat.

The next second, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted in Mirad's arms.

"Teacher Obora!" *2
"Miss Obora!"

"..."

...So touching a monster's horns can knock it out?
Mirad released his grip and looked at his palm with a hint of disbelief.

There are 1 day, 17 hours and 35 minutes remaining until the welcoming ceremony begins.

(End of this chapter)