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

Chapter 58 Baphomet (Part 1)
After finishing the inspection and repair of the magic furnace that night, Opola yawned and returned to his room.

As the person in charge of the Magic Furnace, she has the authority to pass through the checkpoints along the way, and naturally she is also responsible for the accidental seizure of the Magic Furnace by a foreign hero a few days ago.

The magic furnace, the agricultural expo, the students' graduation.

Various tedious and boring meetings and negotiations with representatives from all sides gradually filled her schedule. Obora, who was used to being distracted and handling multiple matters at the same time, also felt busy for the first time in a long time.

Being busy is a good thing.

When she is fully engaged, her restless thoughts and desires will obediently accumulate in a corner of her mind. As long as she doesn't actively touch them, she can maintain a calm demeanor.

Today, the temperature control magic array in the underground living area is malfunctioning and not working.

If that's all there is to it, then it's alright.

However, a lava golem on duty and her enthusiastic husband tried to reactivate the magic circle by pouring their magic into it, and the result was that the living area turned into a sauna.

Although the monster couples all agreed that this was fine, they braved the high temperature, embracing each other as they returned to their room for an intense, sweaty, and dizzy socializing session...

But Obola has no one to accompany her.

Moreover, as the person in charge, she also had to repair the temperature-controlling magic circle all by herself.

After finishing everything, it was already late at night when she returned to her room. The pale yellow pajamas that Eborra was wearing were soaked with sweat and stuck stickily to her skin.

Cleaning magic... never mind, I'll just take off my clothes and get some sleep, I'll deal with it tomorrow.

She stepped into her pitch-black room.

I kicked off my equally soaked plush slippers, took off my pajamas... A gentle breeze brushed against my skin through the window cracks, it felt nice.

The exhausted professor jumped up, threw himself onto the bed, and buried his face in a pillow.

Perhaps she was too exhausted.

Perhaps even the usually calm mind has been affected by the sweltering environment.

Perhaps, suppressed instincts, relegated to a corner of her mind, stirred slightly, influencing her judgment.

As it turned out, Obora was unaware that there was an uninvited guest in her room.

"I want to talk to you about something."

Mirad’s deep voice came from above her.

What? Am I hallucinating? I actually heard that man's voice...

Come to think of it, I don't think I actually fell onto the soft bed. The thing my face touched, with its wonderful texture and pleasant magical scent, didn't seem to be her pillow. So what was it...?

"And, you're pressing down on my leg."

Unable to sleep, Mirad pondered the problem of Kissfil's transformation into a monster. He shook Siolitta awake and, after learning of Opola's address from the half-asleep Lilim, rushed over.

As someone who has to atone for her sins to Kieslfield, she should have a deeper understanding of this matter and perhaps be able to help him find a solution.

The door was locked, and there was no response when I knocked.

So he used the same trick again, entered the room, and sat on the other person's bed to wait.

Besides asking about Kiesliffe, you can also see the monster girls' attitudes toward monsterization.

He didn't have to wait long, about five minutes, before the door was pushed open and light shone in.

but--

Everything happened so fast. Before Mirad could even speak, Obora had already kicked her two fluffy slippers into the corner of the room and taken off her pajamas from over her head, throwing them at his face.

His face was covered in sweaty clothes, which made Mirand freeze for a moment.

The next second, his thigh was hit by something soft.

"And you're pressing down on my leg." The creature that had been using his leg as a pillow slowly raised its head, its hazy and confused eyes gleaming in the darkness.

At this moment, Obola's golden eyes seemed to be veiled by mist, her chest heaving as she stared at Mirad's face in the darkness. The dim light created perfect shadows, highlighting the man's features.

"I'm curious what you've been through to be so oblivious that you didn't even notice I was there."

…She didn't answer, but instead buried her head back down.

Mirad frowned; he could naturally feel the other's breathing gradually becoming heavier, and his murmurs sounding like he was in a dream.

She had been burying her head between his knees, but now she was kneeling on the bed with her waist raised, looking like a lamb kneeling to suckle from Mirad's perspective.

Is she... being coquettish?

In that case, the dialogue cannot proceed.

With a sigh, Mirad reached into Baphomet's long, dark hair and grabbed the other man's neck.

He could almost squeeze her slender, fragile neck in one hand. He knew the scar was there, and with a little force, he should be able to bring back the old pain to Baphomet in her strange state and bring her back to her senses.

“Opola, now is not the time for you to act cute, and I am not and will not be the object of your cuteness. Now, I have something important to discuss with you... Do you understand?”

He gently grasped her neck and slowly raised her head until it was level with his. Mirad looked into her eyes and spoke clearly, "I have no interest in the doctrines of your Sabas order. I will adjust my approach to you after this matter is over."

"……Um."

As he pulled her up by the neck, Obora barely managed a whimper as she answered, her voice terrifyingly hoarse, "I...I understand..."

He could smell the scent he had when he caught Siolitta's tail that day, and glancing at the sheets, he was right.

In a split second, Mirad decided to ignore the other person's trembling thighs, which shook like pudding.

"Okay. Now go put on your new clothes, and I'll clean the sheets you stained. Next, we'll have a good talk about Kissfield. If you understand, just nod."

Eborah nodded slightly.

"Very well, it seems he knows he won't tolerate her coquettishness," Mirad thought.

It's a real shame that even if he tries to be cute, he won't lower his standards for atonement.

Luckily, she didn't get away with it. She even changed into a body that could evoke a protective instinct. What a cunning opponent.

About ten minutes later, Obora, her eyes glazed over, returned to the bedroom. Her hand unconsciously touched her slightly reddened neck, and she lowered her head, lost in thought.

Mirad sat on a chair to the side, having already cleaned up the mess on the bed. "Sioulta told me your address. You weren't there when I arrived, so I went in and waited for you."

Obora hummed in agreement, clutching the hem of her clothes. Her tone was more urgent than before, as if she were explaining something. "I need to inspect the magic furnace every night... so I'm not home."

Mirad abruptly changed the subject. Given that Obora was currently preoccupied, asking her question now would undoubtedly elicit a better and more truthful answer. "Hmm. You should know about Kisfield's current situation. As a monster, would you be excited about the increase in your kin?... I want to hear your honest opinion."

When Kesfield was mentioned, Obora's eyes lit up. "Yes. If she becomes a monster, she won't have to suppress her emotions anymore. Unresolved negative emotions will rot, ferment, and deteriorate, and you've seen the consequences. In the end, it will only drive her to self-destruct."

"You knew something was wrong with her?"

Without hesitation, Opola answered almost immediately, “I don’t know. But I’ve seen some of the brave warriors from the Rescueye Expedition… almost all of them have some kind of mental illness, some mild, some severe. There are quite a few like Kiesfield, who rush headlong down the path of death and self-destruction.”

Used as a ruthless strategic weapon, with its blade pointed at its own people, feelings of guilt and remorse arise, take root, and grow. This leads to self-destructive tendencies; Kieslowski is a typical example.

Mirand closed his eyes, his voice so low it was almost a whisper, “The situation is that dire.”

"In this regard... it might be better to ask Kieslfeld directly."

"But I don't know how to face Kissfield now. If you were in her shoes, how would you inform her?"

Obora hesitated for a moment. "I will speak frankly. If she is angry, it is fine for her to vent to me. But... it is probably better to be more tactful, even if the facts will not change because of the words."

　This is the second chapter today! Please give me some recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, and add it to your favorites!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)