The bad news was that the plan for a candlelit dinner had completely fallen through.
The good news was that a dinner for two had turned into a dinner for three.
Lynch had been kept at the Church of Suffering to share a communal holy meal.
The food was rather meager—a few vegetables, an apple, a portion of white bread, and at most a tiny slice of cheese on top. He felt that what people fed rabbits in his past life was more sumptuous than this. Recalling the quality of the pastries and black tea he had enjoyed at the Church of the Black Night, Lynch could only think... next time, he had better scrounge meals over there instead. After all, they were well-acquainted.
Still, everyone ate the exact same thing, including Mrs. Nightingale and Miss Valente, so Lynch didn't complain. The taste actually wasn't bad; it was just that after finishing, he felt as though his eyes were turning red and his ears were growing long, and he felt just as hungry as before he'd eaten. Aside from that, there was nothing wrong with it.
Halfway through the meal, it suddenly dawned on him: why was he eating with over sixty faithful of the Church of Suffering?
This wasn't the free holy meal distributed to the common folk, nor was it a hospitality meal prepared for guests. It was purely an internal, everyday meal for the believers themselves.
Why are they feeding me an internal meal? What's the logic behind this?
Lynch had no idea. But seeing how extraordinarily warm and affectionate the believers were toward him, treating him no differently from one of their own, and glancing at the noble lady beside him who wore a rather odd expression, Lynch decided it was best not to dwell on the question.
He feared it might trigger a bloodbath—besides, the person next to him was biting her bread so fiercely that sparks were practically flying.
By the time the two ladies escorted him home, it was already nine in the evening. Although he had continuously felt that something was terribly off about this arrangement, facing the folding fan and the rapier, he concluded that nothing seemed wrong after all.
When he returned home, Mrs. Maggie and little Martha were likely already asleep. Without disturbing them, Lynch went straight to his bedroom.
Yesterday's battle of wits and courage against the Color Out of Space had posed no direct physical danger beyond killing his first real opponent, the snake man, yet it had exerted immense mental pressure on him throughout.
The lives of the entire town had rested upon his shoulders, and more importantly, the lady officer had been by his side, entrusting her life to him as well. While he had appeared relaxed, he had nearly exhausted all his energy and imagination to resolve the crisis in time.
Afterward, he had only managed to sleep a few casual hours at the Milt residence before being hauled awake by a bunch of burly Watchers, even getting mocked by the bearded Truen with “I see you everywhere.”
Lynch felt the man's mouth was simply too reckless—evidently, the lizard had already been thoroughly digested. Deeply touched, Lynch had handed the Color Out of Space to him to carry, leaving the man pale and terrified the entire way until they reached their destination and could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
All in all, today had been utterly exhausting. Lynch decided to do nothing at all. He drew open the curtains, bathed in the crimson moonlight, and quietly lay on his bed, lost in thought.
He hadn't figured out what to do with the Revelations of Glaaki yet. Even just to spare the lady officer's feelings, he couldn't allow such a dangerous and bizarre thing to spread unchecked throughout Rhine City, so he certainly couldn't casually consign it to the profiteers at the Knowledge Library.
Better to set it aside for now and see how things developed; there was no rush. What mattered most right now were the human-faced fruit and the invitation from the Duke's mansion—both needed to be handled in the coming days. Right, and he also had to find a way to contact the Archbishop of the Church of Wealth.
I have no ties with him, but perhaps I can change my angle and borrow leverage.
I should be able to persuade Archbishop Trinlais of the Church of the Black Night, and Mrs. Nightingale can be called upon as well. As for those madmen from the Church of the Sun, though they have no reason to help me, they did blow up Miss Valente's house—a rather sensitive conflict between divine authority and secular nobility. On top of that, the mirror in the end was shattered by a single punch from my neighbor. Using all this as leverage should be enough to get their Archbishop to do me a favor.
With three churches stepping forward, and considering the Church of Wealth won't need to actually do anything beyond providing a piece of information, their Archbishop should be able to accept it.
This way, the matter of the Light of Miracles might truly be put on the agenda; otherwise, I won't feel at ease no matter what.
‘Neighbor, chat with me a bit.’
【Hmm?】
‘I don't know why you won't tell me many things directly, but I think my attitude has been quite clear. It probably isn't just about letting me make my own choices. I suspect there are certain things deities cannot speak aloud, lest it trigger uncontrollable anomalies, or interfere with other matters.’
【...】
‘Mm, looks like I'm close. So I can deduce it myself, and you don't actually mind me knowing—you just can't say it?’
【...】
‘Are you asleep?’
【Mm, asleep.】
‘Heh, glad to hear it. So my guess was probably in the right direction—another great catastrophe is coming? That's why plague, war, famine, and death are emerging one after another, as omens of the catastrophe?’
【You should go to sleep, Lynch.】
‘Looks like I made a mistake somewhere. Where is it?’ Lynch pondered. Suddenly remembering an earlier hypothesis, he stared at the red moon outside the window and mused, ‘Could the causality be reversed? They aren't omens of a great catastrophe—they are what trigger it.’
【...】
‘Hiss... Then what is the Shadow Alliance's purpose in doing all this? The matter with Mordiggian always made me feel they wanted to cause a plague, yet all the experts claim the King of Ghouls' authority cannot cause pestilence. Maybe they're right, but I reserve my doubts. Because their next plan—killing Howard—might be aimed at stirring conflict between the council and the kingdom, which could very well trigger a war. Step one is plague, step two is war... Could they be trying to artificially trigger a great catastrophe?’
【...】
‘Are they insane? What good does doing this do for them? At the end of the First Age, you all...’
【Do not consider anyone insane, Lynch. Some actions appear crazy only because you haven't seen the reasons behind them. In truth, these actions all possess an internally consistent logic.】
‘So you know? But you can't speak of it?’
【...】
‘You acknowledge their logic is consistent, but you don't agree with the actions themselves, and you want to stop them?’
【Lynch, you do not need to consider what I want to do. What you need to consider is what you want to do.】
‘Cut the nonsense. What I want to do is consider what you want to do. You awakened me from death, watched over me for who knows how many years, put me into this body, and helped me survive all this way. I insist on considering what you want, and I insist on helping you see it through. What's it got to do with you whether I choose to do so?’
Lynch had actually been half-asleep and dazed, and only now did he suddenly realize what he had just thought.
Holy crap, why did I lose my temper with my neighbor? I just talked back to a goddess—what do I do now? Asking for advice online, urgent!
His groggy brain cleared in an instant, only to plunge into absolute chaos. Yet before he could wait for a reply that was destined never to come, a gentle voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
【If this truly is your choice, then carry on doing so, Lynch...】 Lady Luna fell silent for a moment before speaking faintly, 【I am very glad.】
Glad after getting talked back to by me? Lynch was briefly dumbfounded.
【Because this way, when divine retribution descends, there will be a justification for it.】
‘Hey, you're joking, right?’
【What do you think?】 For the first time, a burst of soft laughter resonated in his mind, though it was quickly reined in. 【Unfortunately, now is not the time to consider such things. You have a far more important matter to attend to.】
Hm?
Following Lady Luna's reminder, Lynch suddenly realized that a rustling sound was coming from outside the bedroom door.
An intruder? Are the landlady and Martha alright?
Lynch's heart tightened, but he soon realized that whoever it was had likely come for him. He swiftly suppressed his worry, narrowed his eyes, lightened his breathing, and pretended to be asleep.
Sure enough, the door opened softly. A figure slipped inside and crept silently over to the bedside.
By the crimson moonlight, Lynch caught sight of dazzling golden hair.
It was the landlady standing at his bedside, leaning over to gaze down at him.
???
Before Lynch's brain could even process the situation, the landlady's arms moved.
In the next moment, her nightgown slipped down, revealing...
Holy shit!
Lynch, a veteran wizard from his past life, felt a rush of heat to his nose, his mind going completely blank.
Mrs. Maggie stood right before him, looking utterly radiant in the moonlight.
Her long blonde hair draped down silkily, her milk-white skin glowed with an incandescent sheen, her shapely figure bore not the slightest sign of having given birth, and those long legs... Pfft.
Having watched countless videos in his past life, Lynch had still never witnessed a scene like this in person. It was practically the most intense psychic shock imaginable. Lynch's brain was a chaotic mess; all he saw was fair skin gleaming in the moonlight and cascading golden hair, leaving only a single thought in his head:
What are you doing! Why aren't you wearing any clothes!
Yet before the pitiful otaku brain could accept the sight before him, the landlady had already lifted her arms, presenting everything even more clearly to Lynch.
“Mr. Detective, everything you have done for Martha and me, I've seen it all. I'm just a foolish woman who doesn't know how to express gratitude. I have no money, no knowledge, no abilities... The only thing I can offer in return is myself. I hope you will accept my body and continue to stay here in the future. Toward you, I truly, truly...”
Her voice suddenly choked up. Mrs. Maggie said no more, slowly leaning down toward Lynch. As the distance closed, he could even see the glistening tears at the corners of her beautiful eyes.
In that moment, Lynch understood everything.
The lady wasn't merely grateful; she wanted to use this method to bind him and the Book of Purification here long-term, thereby securing Martha's safety for life.
Maternal love was indeed rather touching, but what the hell was he supposed to do now?
Lynch's entire body was burning hot, certain bodily changes had long since taken place, and his senses were on the verge of slipping away. Yet having unraveled her motives, a shred of cool rationality returned to him.
No matter what she thought, accepting this would be taking advantage of her vulnerability. It would be no different from holding the Book of Purification hostage against her. Was he truly going to do something so base and reprehensible?
Though he dreamed about it and fantasized occasionally, not in this sort of situation, and not in this manner!
For a moment, Lynch was plunged into an intense internal struggle while the landlady's soft body pressed against him.
Biting his lip hard, Lynch abruptly rolled over and pinned down the landlady's body, just like when they had first met. With bloodshot eyes, he stared into her lake-like eyes, trying his best to suppress the trembling in his voice:
“Think carefully about this, Mrs. Magg—Ms. Maggie.”
“We've known each other for nearly two months, and you should know what kind of person I am. I certainly love your... body, and I've dreamed of what comes next. But I am a man with principles. In any other circumstance, I would accept with great joy, but not for a reason like this. I don't believe letting this happen is the right thing to do.”
“Once it happens, I will feel ashamed of having taken advantage of your plight in what essentially amounts to a transaction. To avoid the awkwardness, I wouldn't be able to keep living here; leaving would be my only choice. But is that what you wish to see?”
“Rather than that, why not treat everything tonight as a dream? You remain the gentle, beautiful landlady, and I remain the pervert who fantasizes about your back. We will continue our peaceful life as before, until perhaps one day in the future, everything happens naturally, rather than being forced by that Book of Purification.”
The landlady hadn't uttered a single word, but listening to Lynch, her gaze grew exceedingly complex—gratitude mixed with a touch of resentment, beneath which hid a glimmer of reliance.
Gradually, Maggie's body relaxed, and she stopped trying to pull him into an embrace. Only then did Lynch register his own physical state. With a flush rising to his face, he quickly rolled aside and lay flat on the bed beside the landlady. For a time, within the moonlit room, only the sound of their distinct breathing filled the silence.
“After all, you wouldn't want me forced to leave, would you, ma'am?”
Lynch's heart was practically bleeding as he said this.
What in the world did I just do? Why did I push my own dream away?
Yet he did not regret it. Taking advantage of someone in distress was not something a man should do.
The bed creaked as the landlady silently stood up. She lingered by the bedside, gazing at Lynch for a long time, before suddenly leaning down and pressing her lips to his.
Hm?
Lynch's eyes went wide, once again trapped in a state of utter blankness. This time, he even forgot how to breathe, simply letting her hot breath wash over his face.
A long moment later, the landlady pushed firmly against Lynch's chest, taking several steps back to create distance, her voice trembling as she spoke:
“I hate you, yet I thank you. I was already prepared to completely cast aside shame and morality, but you... Can everything truly go back to how it was before?”
“I'm afraid not; there's no going back,” Lynch said faintly from the bed, his eyes flickering. “At the very least, far more wonderful dreams will appear in my sleep from now on, and plenty of them. That's going to make things very difficult for me.”
With her cheeks flushed and her watery eyes brimming with emotion, the landlady bit her lip, stomped her foot, scooped up the fallen nightgown, and dashed out of the bedroom with her head lowered.
And watching that stunning retreating figure, Lynch's expression grew even more conflicted.
Thump, thump, thump.
Mrs. Maggie ran all the way back to her bedroom, leaning against the door as she panted softly. Her eyes stared blankly at the faint flame of the gas lamp, lost in thought.
Only after a long while did she release her bitten red lip and let out a soft huff.
“Natalie. Valente. Hmph.”
Meanwhile, in the second-floor bedroom, Lynch was still lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
‘This was the more important matter you were talking about?’
A delightful, melodious laugh echoed through Lynch's mind.
That night, Lynch couldn't get a wink of sleep.
Rate on N.U.
