Chapter 131. Meanwhile, Noah is being bitten by the nun.

Out of concern, Sister Belinda chose to knock on the door.

Out of trust, Sister Belinda decided not to intrude.

Instead, she resolutely did what needed to be done.

Clotilde was the most extraordinary among these nuns.

She was not a knight, yet she wielded a weapon to battle heretics.

However, even without her combat prowess, Clotilde was an exceptional nun.

Not just Sister Belinda, but anyone who knew Clotilde would agree.

On the other side, Father Noah was also a young priest worthy of great respect.

His youth and position as a priest spoke volumes of his abilities.

As for what he had done, well…

…Hmm? Did Father Noah have any particularly remarkable deeds?

…Wait, when exactly did Father Noah start serving at the Water City Cathedral?

…Never mind, in any case, Father Noah was indeed a very respectable young priest.

So if it were those two, surely nothing could go wrong.

Imagining the admirable young priest tending to the young nun lying on the sofa, Sister Belinda’s face broke into a tender smile.

She fully believed in Father Noah’s words.

Clotilde must be receiving his careful attention right now; how enviable.

But she had her own duties, so she wouldn’t disturb the two.

That’s right, speaking of which, she hadn’t reported Clotilde’s situation to the regional bishop Horace yet.

Now that she had some free time, she would go do that.

As she traversed the grand hall of the cathedral and ascended the side staircase, Belinda the nun found herself deep within a chamber on the second floor.

There were no surprises along the way; it was as natural as ever for her to encounter the most prominent figure in the church of the Water City—Bishop Horace.

“Oh, Sister Clotilde has come to Water City! It has indeed been a while since we last met.”

Bishop Horace was a kindly old man, his hair and beard a snowy white. Clad in a bishop’s white robe, his face radiated warmth, perfectly embodying the image one might conjure of a bishop.

Upon hearing Belinda’s report about Clotilde’s arrival, the old man set aside his previous concerns, offering Belinda a gentle smile.

“Sister Clotilde? Ah, the battle-specialized nun! What a coincidence that she would arrive at this time.”

In the room, aside from Bishop Horace, another figure revealed a contemplative expression upon hearing this news, as if pondering something profound.

Belinda recognized him; he was Mr. Dean from the church’s special research division—the Relic Analysis Department.

Though he appeared youthful, seemingly in his thirties, he was, in fact, a seasoned researcher within the department.

His visit to Water City was work-related, and since he was an old acquaintance of Bishop Horace, Belinda found no surprise in his presence. With a smile, she naturally informed both men that Clotilde was under Noah’s care.

Upon learning that it was the esteemed Father Noah, known for his youth and respect, who was looking after the ailing Clotilde, neither Horace nor Dean expressed astonishment.

After all, it was Father Noah—surely, there was nothing to worry about.

Not long after, having reported to her superior, Belinda temporarily left the room, redirecting her focus to the faithful praying in the hall.

Once she departed, the room was left with the elderly Bishop Horace and the green-haired Dean.

“…You certainly do not hide your desires at all, do you, Your Excellency?”

Dean was the first to speak, for Horace, this old rascal, could no longer maintain his composure after Belinda’s exit.

The glint of greed and fervor in his eyes was so excessive that even Dean, a man, found it rather distasteful.

“Ho ho ho, don’t say that, Dean. You must know, Sister Clotilde has a magnificent figure—truly the most perfect I have ever seen. Her beauty is beyond reproach. Given that, is it so strange that I yearn to claim her for myself?”

Horace showed no embarrassment at the revelation of his lecherous side; he merely stroked his beard, a villainous smile curling at his lips.

He made no effort to conceal his lascivious nature, completely shedding the benevolent facade he had worn before Sister Belinda.

“…It is not strange, but do not forget, she is quite special. Please, do not act recklessly.”

Dean, exasperated by the old man’s lasciviousness, leisurely sipped his tea to soothe his throat.

“Ah, I am well aware of that. But tell me, does that technology you mentioned truly work? The one that can alter the human body? I recall, Dean, you secretly sold the device using that technology to that princess, what was her name? Is it truly safe?”

Knowing Dean’s interest in beautiful women was not particularly strong, Horace chose not to dwell on that topic, instead returning to their earlier conversation before Sister Belinda’s arrival.

“It is Princess Delia, Your Excellency. Surely, you can remember at least that much.”

Dean set down his teacup with a sigh, glancing at the old man, who seemed disinclined to remember a woman he could not have. Thus, Dean continued:

“There should be no issues. I’ve heard that the princess seems intent on secretly reviving the demon race. If she succeeds, we could obtain valuable experimental data, a mutually beneficial outcome.”

“Ho ho ho, then I must pray to the goddess that this princess succeeds, for I too wish to use that technology to claim Sister Clotilde.”

Seeing the old man return to the subject of the battle nun after just a few words, Dean fell silent for a moment before reluctantly speaking up:

“…Do you truly have such a fondness for Sister Clotilde, Your Excellency?”

—

As soon as the old man, who had been waiting for this very sentence, heard it, a flicker of fervor crossed his weathered face.

“Of course, dear Dean! Those long, beautiful legs! That voluptuous figure! That enchanting visage! To me, she is more alluring than any woman; I truly wish to see that woman submit to me, to become my devoted pleasure slave! Frankly, I should be grateful she is a nun; otherwise, just the thought of her being intimate with other men would drive me mad with anguish.”

“…”

Gazing at the church bishop, who brazenly spoke of wanting to claim a woman—especially a nun—as his pleasure slave, even Dean, who shared his disbelief in the goddess, found himself at a loss for words.

Yet, there was one point on which he wholeheartedly agreed.

That nun was indeed the farthest from any man’s reach.

After all, Clotilde’s combat prowess far surpassed that of her fellow nuns.

If someone wished to possess her, they would likely need to employ overwhelming force.

Otherwise, let alone claiming her, even touching her hand would be an exceedingly difficult endeavor.

But perhaps, with his new technology capable of altering flesh and controlling minds, there might be a chance?

—