Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Julius Caesar (8)
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After moving her base to the imperial capital.
Roselin had been spending extremely busy days.
Though the authority she could wield here wasn't as great as in the Holy Kingdom, the title of Saintess granted her supra-legal powers even on the international stage.
"Oh my, look at these little rats hiding out here?"
"H-Hiiik...!"
"Monster Saintess...! How did you find this place...!"
"What are you waiting for? Everyone, draw your weapons!"
No matter how bright and glamorous a city might be, darkness always lurked in its shadows.
And that darkness—in the form of assassin guilds, thieves' guilds, cults, and more—gnawed away at the city, people's lives, assets, and very souls.
"Calling a beautiful Saintess like me a monster? How rude."
"Gurk—"
Roselin effortlessly caught the fist of a brute charging at her—a man easily one-and-a-half times her size—crushed it to pulp, then flashed a radiant smile.
And then.
Three minutes passed.
In a mere three minutes, without using even a speck of holy power, Roselin turned everyone there into mincemeat.
"You... crazy... bitch... how are you still alive—urk!"
"Shut your trap, you rat scurrying around assassinating people?"
She lightly stepped on the back of the writhing assassin leader, who was still insolently flicking his tongue from the floor, and leisurely began sifting through the confiscated evidence.
She swallowed a hollow laugh inwardly.
People up to no good always had backers, didn't they?
They openly ran a commission window for hits and faced no crackdowns or punishments?
Money or power.
They were all connected to something.
"Hmm, so this is the commission sheet."
After smashing the fourth branch of an assassination guild operating in the imperial capital.
Roselin finally obtained the result she wanted.
[Assassination Target: Ulysses (Kim Yul)]
[Client: ■■■■]
But two questions still remained.
Roselin kicked one of the logs sprawled on the floor—emitting faint groans—until it lay straight.
And then.
Bam—!
"H-Hiiik...!"
She swung her fist lightly, embedding it into the floor right beside his face, grazing it perilously close.
Ignoring the foul stench from the warm liquid that seeped out.
"Next time, it won't miss. So, cooperate nicely?"
Roselin whispered with a benevolent smile.
Her two curiosities were.
One.
How had they traced from the pen name Ulysses to Kim Yul's true identity?
And the other.
What was the name originally behind those ■■■■?
.
.
.
"I ended up pulling an all-nighter again..."
Roselin grumbled as she purified the blood staining her clothes and hands.
Still, completely eradicating those pesky mayfly groups that had been buzzing around lately was a modest success.
Of course.
The church and even the other Saintesses had occasionally asked why she went so far.
Wasn't she overly obsessed with that ancient oracle about the black-haired, black-eyed one?
But.
Ever since the Goddess's voice had gone silent, she had already lost half her purpose in life.
All she could do, unable to set foot in the Demon Realm, was cling to the tail end of the oracle the Goddess had left.
"While I'm at it, maybe I should go see his face."
Well...
Separate from that, he was someone who wrote damn good prose.
Roselin hummed a holy hymn as she dispelled the shadows in a back alley of the capital and strode toward the bright sun.
It was almost lunchtime.
Kim Yul should be delivering his manuscript and heading back soon.
.
.
.
And she met Kim Yul.
More precisely, she met Kim Yul along with his companion.
"Hmm, who's this beautiful lady?"
It had been months since she'd started surveilling Kim Yul.
She could confidently say this was the first time seeing this woman plastered right next to him.
Setting aside her readerly sentiments—like finally spring has come for our author, or maybe he'll gain enlightenment and stop his pure love arcs tanking in skill and realism whenever they turn steamy and intense.
At this timing?
A woman she'd never seen before?
Considering honey traps were one of the oldest tricks, it was blatantly suspicious.
Naturally, Roselin's wariness spiked.
"Ah, my cousin from the countryside. She just came up to the capital recently..."
Staring straight into Kim Yul's eyes as he glanced at her awkwardly with a troubled look, Roselin "read" him.
It was a lie.
As far as she remembered, it was his first lie to her.
Unconsciously, Roselin turned her head and scanned the so-called cousin from head to toe.
Clothing rare in the Empire.
It even resembled the attire of high-ranking demons from ancient texts.
"Nice to meet you! I'm Roselin. Kim Yul's... avid fan!"
Roselin beamed and naturally extended her hand.
The moment Kim Yul's "cousin" hesitantly grabbed her hand.
Roselin surged her holy power, scanning the woman's entire body in an instant.
Hm. My breasts are a bit bigger.
...Separate from that.
No demonic energy emanated from her body.
What she sensed instead was.
Holy power—faint for a Saintess, yet far beyond what an ordinary person could hold.
And most of it was concentrated in her heart.
As if her heart itself was forged from holy power.
It was sudden, potentially rude physical contact.
But Kim Yul's cousin kept a blank expression, politely shook her hand, and released it.
And then.
"Greetings. I am Historie. Playing the role of Kim Yul's cousin. Your Glory Hole is wide ope— Mmph, mmph!"
The woman who introduced herself as Historie uttered some incomprehensible words, and Kim Yul's face drained to pale blue.
"A-Ahaha...! She's still naive about the world. Well, we'll be off then...!"
Kim Yul promptly clamped her mouth shut, dragged her along, flashed an awkward smile, and hastily departed.
"...?"
As the brief encounter passed like a shower.
Roselin just blinked, trying to make sense of it.
Her being naive to the world was undoubtedly true, but...
Why insist on the cousin story in sync?
And.
Why did this meeting leave her feeling so unsettled?
Finally.
...What the hell is a Glory Hole?
Questions began floating around in Roselin's head.
"Kim Yul. My arms hurt."
"Hold them straight."
Today's events made it crystal clear.
Historie.
Was a bomb not yet ready to be unleashed on the world.
...The kind who'd look at the hole in your chest and blurt, "Damn, your runway's impressive," right to your face?
And to a Saintess who claimed she could take on a dragon barehanded?
My chest feels tight...
Well, even I had to admit Roselin's outfit was ambiguously holy-or-horny.
The blasphemous cross-shaped cutout on her chest.
The blatantly side-slit skirt flaunting her thighs, down to the white garter belt fishnet stockings.
Whatever the Goddess was, she was definitely erotic as hell.
"Starting to feel the weight of your words in your arms?"
"As an objective observer, I merely voiced a cool-headed conclusion from my observations—"
"Five more minutes."
"Tch..."
Historie grumbled, but I had no intention of stopping the discipline.
This tin can still didn't grasp human hearts.
To keep her from spouting nonsense in this fantasy world and ending up in an inquisition, she needed guidance onto the straight path.
"Sounds like you're thinking something arrogant like 'the creator's fate' or whatever."
"Adding five minutes."
"Tch..."
Maybe because I've used her so long.
She doesn't get human hearts, but she gets mine perfectly.
.
.
.
"First. Avoid mentioning Earth memories to anyone but me. Be careful with word choice too. Especially... sexual terms."
"How vulgar, Kim Yul. 'Glory Hole' literally means a sacred entrance—"
"Stop. You know word meanings aren't just literal. The metaphors matter."
"Tch..."
"Second. No more 'tch'."
"Why not..."
"Where'd you pick up that translated speech pattern?"
"Your education is lacking, Kim Yul. This is the speech of Cap, the pinnacle race that supreme rulers like me should emulate."
I barely held back from saying "what the fuck."
And so on.
Like inputting prompts one by one, I instilled various restrictions in Historie.
It was only her first outing, yet...
"Understood. My grand plan to dominate and enlighten this world's primitive humans will now be shared only with Kim Yul."
"...Good."
Of course.
I couldn't overhaul her fundamental mindset.
She wasn't an AI dictated solely by prompts anymore.
She was a full-fledged intelligent being with emotions and personality.
Master Mencius said.
Human nature is inherently good.
...Or flipped, if not good, you're not even human.
That's our tin can right now.
Not quite human despite being a sapient.
Through education and edification, I'll awaken the four sprouts in her.
She just needs a bit more time.
"Anyway, let's talk serialization."
"Very well. Shall we discuss Kim Yul's mediocre work—lacking lyrical finesse, elegant phrasing, and ornate rhetoric, yet inexplicably popular?"
"...Yeah. First off, I feel the need to speed up the pacing a bit."
The latest arc was the Pontifex Maximus battle—writing showdown with Historie—to select the High Priest.
The scene's necessity was obvious.
It was Caesar solidly claiming high political status and building a firm foundation.
However, even with exciting events after...
"Indeed, Caesar's life is full of twists, but the highlights are the Triumvirate and Gallic Wars. This part feels too niche and politics-focused."
If there's a reason our tin can isn't hateable but endearingly precious, it's how she gives serious history consultations like this.
After that.
From 63 BC to 59 BC, Caesar's consul election and the Triumvirate's full start.
We seriously debated what to cut, what to turn into episodes for fun.
The next day.
I stopped by the publisher as usual to drop off the manuscript.
"A-Author?"
But Gilford looked unusually uneasy today, hesitating before silently handing me a letter envelope.
What the?
A bit fancy for a fan letter.
Thinking that, I checked the sender on the envelope.
[Berthus de Estrías Duke]
"...? Why are you giving this to me?"
"The anonymous sponsor from before... was him."
What.
Turns out the suspiciously rich furry Duke, handing me an offer I can't refuse for some furry smut? Nah.
With mixed feelings, I tore open the envelope and read the contents.
Dinner... no, a plain dinner invitation.
"Um, I don't know the local politics well. Berthus Duke... how high up is he?"
Gilford's expression grew more troubled.
And soon.
"He's the Empire's de facto number two."
At those words.
My expression turned troubled too.