A Hero Saves With Her Body - Chapter 100

“Don’t overdo it, Dain.”  

Rosé waved her hand beyond the door and then lightly trotted down the stairs. Like he was parting with his lover, Dain watched the closing door before turning his head to the bookshelf.  

The bookshelf was filled with books about boundaries and their by-products, bought by his predecessor.  

From ancient texts published 174 years ago, when boundaries first appeared on the continent, to papers published this year, everything needed for research was there.  

Dain glanced at the titles with his eyes and then pulled out an old book from the top shelf.  

「A Study on the Divine Protection of the Sacred Kingdom of Moir」  

The book was a first edition written by novelist and wanderer Johnny Greenden before the downfall of the Moir Kingdom.  

Since Moir fell less than two years later, it’s now a rare book that became difficult to find and was also among the scriptures that burned down with a temple several years ago.  

His predecessor said he had to pay an amount as big as Monchen’s large mansion to acquire this book but regretted it greatly after reading it because it was filled with nothing but absurd stories.  

For some reason, Dain thought of this book today. He sat at his desk and opened the dusty book to its prologue.  

This book is dedicated to the great Saintess Heirina.

“Saintess?”

But as far as Dain knew, Heirina was not a saintess but the last queen of the Moir Kingdom.  

The unfortunate queen, who had to ascend the scaffold at a young age, was the mother of Lian Mora, who was once hailed as a hero.  

Could a saintess become a queen? At least in Kithlode, a saintess was a women who had taken a vow of chastity. They were not allowed to marry or have children.  

Could the meaning of a saint be different in Moir? Dain quickly flipped through the pages to find a passage about saints.  

A saintess is the only believer who can interpret the divine language as the closest representative to serve God. She conveys the word of God to the temple as a servant following Him, and also delivers the temple’s word to Him in the divine language. Moreover, according to the will of God, she can enhance the power of the Black Knights’ destruction.  

The first two sentences could have been written in the scriptures of Kithlode.  

Representative of God, servant of God, divine language. In the past, when there were temples and priests, people were often fascinated by such words.  

But the last sentence was unfamiliar. The term “Black Knights”.  

And ‘the power of destruction’. It was an unknown phrase that Dain had never heard before. Dain flipped through more pages to find a passage explaining restraint.  

In Moir, when a divine power arises in those looked upon by God, it is called ‘restraint.’  

“Divine power?”  

Holy power.  

In Kithlode, this was called divine power. It was a forgotten ability, but once, it justified witch trials.  

If divine power reacted, she was a witch; if not, she was human.  

Thus, ‘holy water’ often containing divine power was used as evidence in trials, and women were tested for witchcraft by being submerged in it.  

“It was an unscientific trial. How many humans don’t float in water to begin with?”  

Priests would judge floating women as witches and hang them.  

But it was later revealed that women who donated were given stones in their petticoats to ensure they wouldn’t float. In short, it was a scam operation holding women’s lives hostage.  

Therefore, divine power. Now, it’s nothing more than an archaic term that brings to mind the corruption and fraudulent acts of the temple.  

Whether Moir had witch trials is unknown. Perhaps they purely worshipped God’s power as something sacred.  

There was no way to know. Moir was an extremely closed kingdom to foreign countries and even had its temple documents destroyed when conquered by Kithlode.  

The only person who might have known was Lian Mora, a member of the royal family who survived that war.  

But he died, and the rest were immigrants who fled Moir just before the war…  

Dain shook his head. They mostly lived in hiding.  

Most people didn’t tell even their descendants about Moir for fear of being discriminated against if their origin was discovered.  

Dain continued flipping through the book. Generally, the content was about the history of temples and praises for the saintess.  

To him, a modern person, the book seemed at best outdated and at worst filled with unscientific and absurd stories.  

Yet, what made it impossible to put down were the frequent descriptions of Black Knights in each chapter.  

All Black Knights must amplify their power through constant physical contact with the saintess, but very few could directly borrow God’s power through His blessing.  

What God bestowed was holy power itself, capable of instantly annihilating evil energy. Annihilation appeared in various forms but often resulted in turning into ashes.  

Dain’s hand paused. Ashes. Isn’t that a familiar word? It had appeared several times in the documents about Black Cloaks.  

「The moment Black Cloak reached between the monster’s legs, it turned into ashes…」

「The moment it came into contact with Black Cloak, the monster turned into ashes…」

「The monster that touched Black Cloak immediately turned into ashes…」

According to the book, turning evil energy into ashes was divine power, that is, God’s power. Then, does this mean Black Cloak’s power originates from divine power?  

“If Miss Rosé is… related to Moir’s divine power.”  

Dain stood up abruptly from his desk and put the book into his briefcase. He had to prevent anyone from reading this book. Especially because this passage might associate Black Cloak with divine power.  

If so, the emperor who denied all gods and burned down all temples, would not leave her alone. The research had to remain a secret between Dain and her only.  

Dain hugged his bag like a safe and checked the wall clock. Oh no. He was over an hour late for his appointment. Rosé must be craning her neck, waiting for him.  

Dain’s steps quickened as he left the room, praying fervently that she hadn’t left out of boredom.

* * *

Rosé stood in front of a sign that read ‘Pig Salon’ in big letters.

Underneath in very small letters was written ‘Hawker Cuisine Specialty Restaurant,’ but for some reason, it was a name that made her hesitant to enter.

Considering salons are often named in social circles, one could interpret the restaurant as ‘a salon for pigs.’

With a feeling of unease, Rosé entered through the door. A portly male clerk greeted Rosé warmly. Upon mentioning Hindley’s name, he widened his eyes and led Rosé downstairs.

The basement of Pig Salon was a secret space offered only to wealthy patrons who paid high seat fees. Indeed, giving the restaurant such a funny name was to keep the identity of this underground space hidden.

Unaware of such facts, Rosé gaped at the underground space so different from the first floor.

Chandeliers shining with hundreds of candles above, black curtains hanging at each spot, private rooms for group guests, and musical instruments prepared in a small attic.

Rosé listened to the man explain the menu with her mouth agape at the splendid sight.

The price of a bottle of wine alone was equivalent to her annual salary—a moment when Dain’s wealth felt very real.

“First… could you just bring wine? I’ll ask for food when my companion arrives.”

“Very well, milady.”

Shortly after, a wine bottle with a round bottom like an amphora and two glasses were placed on the table. Rosé took one of the glasses poured by the clerk and savored the rich aroma of grapes rising from it.

Yes, this is it. If there was one thing worth being a transmigrator for, it was this perfect-bodied red wine.

Perhaps because the ban on alcohol had ended not long ago, there was an extraordinary passion among those who brewed it.

She drank one glass out of thirst without savoring it, and the second glass was gulped down because they were too delicious.

Still, she slowly sipped the third glass while swirling them around but hurriedly drank the fourth glass, worrying Dain might arrive.

Rosé’s eyes were glazed over by the fifth glass. Perhaps because she drank quickly in such a short time, she felt the need to go to the bathroom.

“Uhm…”

Eventually overcome by the urge to pee, Rosé finally searched for the restroom. In a fancy restaurant like this, there should be one indoors.

It was when she turned behind a pillar and searched the corner that she heard a familiar voice.

“Missed it again.”

The distinctively mocking tone. Rosé instinctively hid behind the pillar. That voice… could it be Sergi, that man?

“I had no choice, bro. He somehow figured out even my ability to use supernatural powers.”

The voice belonged to Podrick. I knew they were close, but I didn’t know they dined together as well.

There’s nothing good about running into them here. She was about to sneak away when her steps halted at the name Podrick mentioned.

“Do you think he was only famous for his swordsmanship? That’s Lian Mora, who is said to see even a needle in front of a thousand Nirnos. He even feels the flow of the air.”

“At Blue Rock?”

“Of course, I went there. But I couldn’t enter as long as Asker’s sword is there.”

Was it because of the alcohol? Podrick was talking as if Lian Mora lived at Blue Rock.

But Lian Mora is dead. Didn’t the transmigration start with Lian Mora’s will?

“Any way through?”

“None. It’s a sword whose make is even unclear. All I know is that it’s a legacy of the Moir royal family.”

“I heard that Lanis’s sword was made following that one.”

“That was just the emperor showing off. He wouldn’t want his son-in-law to wield a lesser sword than that traitor, would he?”

Unfamiliar information unintentionally flowed in, making my head spin. Lian Mora. Asker’s sword. The legacy of the Moir royal family.

“Bro, as I said, let’s just use Rosé. That’s why you brought in the doctor, right?”

It was my name. Rosé bit her lip, worried that even her breath might escape. Suddenly, Dain’s words came to mind.

― Someday, Pumong will try to take away the symbolism of the Black Cloak.