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

Chapter 33 A Date with a Monster (1)

Obora stared blankly at herself in the mirror, her horizontal pupils slightly contracting.

Having not dispelled the humanoid magic for a long time, the reflection in the mirror felt somewhat unfamiliar. But soon, as the sheep's hooves lightly touched the floor, a sense of familiarity and exhilaration returned to the body.

She loosened the strands of jet-black hair hanging from the coiled ram's horns, extended her tongue—the same color as shimmering gold—and moistened her lips. A moment later, Obora cast her humanization spell again, transforming back into the petite professor.

The time to meet Mirad was fast approaching, but she hadn't chosen her clothes yet. Her ample thighs rubbed together intermittently, and even her toes began to writhe and jerk.

This isn't a date; the other person isn't interested. There's been some unusual activity in the White Wasteland lately; he probably wants to ask about this.

But she still wanted to leave a good impression on him... even if it was just to make her path to redemption smoother.

For this reason, Abola even took a day off, something she hadn't done in a long time, to keep the appointment, much to the surprise of her colleagues at the college.

Throwing herself into work to numb herself was indeed very effective; she hadn't woken up from her nightmares for quite some time.

He opened the wardrobe, inside were a few sets of everyday clothes that he rarely wore. Most of the others were formal attire that he had to wear when attending public events at the Agricultural Cooperative, as well as clothes given to him by younger members of the Sabas Order that conformed to the principles of Sabas... Some of them were too demonic. Opola shook his head; he wouldn't like them.

She took a look at the "Beech House" restaurant recommended by the princess when she had some free time. It was a relatively affordable restaurant that suited local tastes and had a relaxed dining atmosphere.

Then I can't wear formal attire, I'll go for something more casual.

She ultimately chose a beige turtleneck sweater paired with a pure black knee-length skirt, a look that was casual enough without appearing frivolous, much softer than Obola's usual mage attire. The stand-up collar perfectly concealed the shocking scar on Obola's slender neck, and the cuffs were adorned with a few wheat-ear-shaped buttons, one of the few decorations on her body.

Obora turned around in front of the mirror, frowned, took off the top button, buttoned it up again, and took it off again.

Fortunately, the monsters were all naturally beautiful, so she didn't have to waste too much time on makeup; otherwise, she might not have been able to keep her appointment on time.

The person in the mirror was delicate, cute, and still had a childlike innocence. Her chubby face made people want to pinch it, and her petite body evoked a protective instinct... She looked perfect from every angle, but Obora still felt that something was missing.

After hesitating for a moment, she reached out and gently brushed aside her bangs, letting a few unruly strands of black hair fall in front of her eyes. This made it seem less deliberate.

Although Obora knew very well that when she saw Mirad later, she would unconsciously tighten her baby face again.

"It's time to go." Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she murmured to herself, "I hope... he won't hate me."

She left the room, her footsteps lighter than usual echoing in the corridor, before quickly regaining her usual steady pace.

Beech House on Lianhe Road… She checked it out yesterday; it’s a very quiet restaurant. There weren’t many customers, but almost all of them were regulars.

Stepping into the open-air booths, decorated by the owner like a hedge maze, the rattan tables and chairs and the landscape paintings hanging on the fence reveal the owner's unique taste.

Mirand sat across the table, dressed in a black tuxedo with gold trim. The slightly fitted garment accentuated the priest's strong and powerful physique. His hair was clearly well-groomed, and the signs of age and composure in his eyes had lessened considerably; at first glance, one might even mistake him for a young prince of royal lineage.

Good afternoon, Mirad.

Obora pulled out a chair and sat down, her toes barely touching the ground, even with her body leaning forward as much as she could. Normally, she would have already started swinging her legs, but she didn't want to appear so frivolous in front of Mirad.

"Yes. Good afternoon, Miss Obora."

Mirad paused for a moment, but did not show any impatience, which eased Obola's anxiety a little.

She had only just met the other party, but she already felt like her body was out of control. She couldn't sit comfortably anywhere, perfectly illustrating what it means to be on pins and needles.

"Are there any dietary restrictions? Given your current body size... should I order you a children's meal?"

"No need. Normal food intake is fine."

Her fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the menu, making a soft clicking sound. Oprah softened her tone, trying to make her voice sound more mature. "Grilled salmon with vegetables, and a cup of black tea, please." Her gaze swept over the menu, then she stole a glance at the man sitting opposite her.

The timing was perfect; Mirad wasn't looking at her at all. He was flipping through the menu, his expression serious. Obora was able to carefully examine her old friend's face.

The cubicle was open-air, without a ceiling, and sunlight shone directly on Mirad's golden hair, radiating a dazzling brilliance. Yes, the holy sword that cleaved through the blood moon and clouds also emitted such a light...

Lost in blood-stained memories, she only reacted when the waiter called her several times as he brought her red tea. She shuddered, and her hands instinctively took the glass with the perfect posture of someone attending a formal diplomatic meeting.

"You're nervous. What are you afraid of? Am I going to take your life again?"

Mirad raised his eyes, and Obora's timid huddle with her face buried in the menu, peeking at him with only her eyes showing, was truly comical... especially since she thought she was perfectly disguised. He couldn't help but admire her for a while longer.

“If my death can make you forgive me…once I have atoned, you may cut off my head as you have done in the past.”

Putting down the menu, Eborah took a small sip of her black tea, the scalding temperature causing her to unconsciously furrow her brow.

How many are left?

"Three."

The number of souls who have not yet forgiven her.

Despite spending over a thousand years reducing the number to this extent, Obola felt no sense of relief at the prospect of finally being relieved of her burden.

Do you know where they are?

"...Hmm. I used some methods, you shouldn't mind, right?" Obora asked cautiously.

“Show me.”

Magic that can pinpoint the location of a reincarnated soul... setting aside external factors, Mirad was indeed quite curious about this.

Upon hearing this, Obora raised her hands, and a magic spell to repel people enveloped the room. A milky white, semi-transparent map slowly appeared on the dining table... it was a map of the continent.

Three dark red spots of light were distributed across the continent, one of which happened to be near the goat's head that represented Obola himself, almost overlapping.

"Hmm...? Does this mean one of them is in Elcia?"

The scale was too small, making it almost impossible to discern the movement of the light spot with the naked eye. However, it was certain that the light spot and Obora were located in the same city.

“Yes. But why is that child in Visegrain? She should be in Rescadeye…”

Obora stared at the glowing spots on the map, a look of confusion on her face.

"So, you're not keeping an eye on them around the clock."

"Yes. I've set up a spell that automatically detects their status. It will only trigger when they or their close friends and family are in mortal danger or in other emergencies..."

Obora suddenly stopped talking, realizing that she was speaking in the tone of lecturing a student. Her ears turned slightly red, and she glanced at Mirad. Fortunately, the latter did not seem to mind, but was looking at the map she had presented with interest.

Having handled thousands of souls, she was initially denounced by several hot-tempered souls as a monster with insatiable voyeuristic desires and a desire to toy with other people's lives. However, she learned to maintain a certain distance and respect privacy. Obora was unwilling to admit it, but she was already very familiar with this business and it had become the norm for her. Every night, she would be awakened by nightmares and unable to fall back asleep. Staring blankly at the red spots was an unwavering habit of hers. She only slept relatively well during her time in Visegrand.

"Since there aren't any of the dangers you predicted, then there's no problem? Is this timing related to someone from the Rescueyer delegation?"

Obora nodded. "Yes, her name is Kissefield, and she is a hero."

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(End of this chapter)