Chapter 196
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 196
Chapter Title: Letter from the Young Nun
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"Groan..."
Robert drew up his mana the moment he opened his eyes, assaulted by a pounding headache.
Once he flushed out the hangover with mana, his mind slowly began to clear.
Isaac had left him in this room, promising to report back on business matters, and true to his word, the food and drinks had arrived exactly as requested.
It was the kind of lavish hospitality you'd expect from a household of immense wealth.
The liquor he'd stockpiled in advance was now running dangerously low, with empty bottles rolling around the floor.
'...What day is it today?'
His body felt as heavy as a waterlogged sponge, and he had no desire to get out of bed.
With the curtains drawn over the window, he couldn't tell how many days had passed or whether it was day or night.
Whenever he opened his eyes, he was confronted with the harsh reality of his broken arm.
He'd just pour more booze down his throat, wake up to dispel the hangover with mana, grab some snacks when hunger hit, then drink and sleep again in an endless cycle.
The scruffy beard that had barely grown before was now thick and coarse, a sign that quite some time had elapsed.
But the one-eyed mage who'd stuck him here showed no sign of returning.
'Why hasn't that bastard Isaac come back?'
No way he'd forgotten about me...
He reached out, rolling the bottles around until he found one that still sloshed, then brought it straight to his lips.
Mana was convenient, but that very convenience could lead a person to ruin.
The ability to forcibly dispel a hangover.
For someone with duties and work, it was a handy way to get back to daily life.
But depending on the situation, it became the fuel that kept you drinking endlessly.
It's a common refrain at the end of a holiday.
-If I drink again, I'm a goblin!!!
Or self-deprecatingly calling themselves an orc—the usual vows most people make when swearing off booze.
It might stem from drunken blunders or foolish actions done in a stupor.
But more often than not, the splitting headache of a hangover is the biggest culprit.
Still, the euphoria of getting drunk and the joy of good company draw them back.
But what if you could dispel hangovers too?
And with no immediate tasks, plenty of wealth, time, and mana to spare?
If a person lost their self-control and drowned in drink?
This was the result.
It wasn't profitable work, but there were mountains of things that needed doing.
Once you had financial leeway, basic human psychology tilted the scales of desire the other way.
When he pushed open the door to the Adventurer's Guild,
he had to steel his resolve, or his feet would head straight for the underground tavern.
Was he some kid with no self-control?
He mentally reviewed his to-do list as he approached the receptionist.
"Been well?"
"Ah! Adventurer sir!"
He grabbed a snack from the ones on her desk and half-perched on the edge, popping it into his mouth.
It wasn't to his taste, but a natural gesture to ease into conversation.
"Nothing much going on?"
"Perfect timing—mail from the Church just arrived for you."
"That usual one?"
Holy water and such—they bought a lot of consumables from the Church, so every quarter or so,
they'd send a verbose prayer-like letter, full of flowery blessings for Platinum Adventurer Roman's path ahead.
"I wouldn't know the contents. The envelope looked different, so we double-checked it was from them."
Of course; she didn't open the letters, and since they came regularly, she had no reason to know.
His mouth feeling idle, he reached for another snack absentmindedly but stopped and got to the point.
"I'm thinking of buying a nice big mansion. See if there's anything good."
She immediately pulled out a blank sheet and started jotting notes.
"Understood. Any specific structure or requirements for the mansion?"
Her best quality was never prying into personal matters and keeping business separate.
"A yard would be nice... spacious room for a study, good location, decent security?"
"Yes. Anything else?"
Thinking again, one crucial point came to mind.
"Oh! And if beggars or alley trash cause a ruckus or get noisy at night, I might just kill them all, so that's important too."
Good location, quiet yet secure?
Even in the empire's capital, it was a tall order, but they'd find something.
If not, a little tantrum would make them create one.
Realizing his follow-up wasn't a joke, the receptionist opened a drawer and pulled out red ink.
She underlined heavily, emphasizing "quiet even at midnight."
After scribbling the basics, before filling the rest, she continued with business questions.
"What about your current place? Shall I list it?"
"Nah, keep that one as is. Move in later."
Better to say it upfront so she'd handle the annoying paperwork.
Address changes for mail and all the time-sucking admin had to be done by the adventurer otherwise.
Sapphire rank got that courtesy from the guild.
And it wasn't obligation—it was goodwill.
The face you saw first upon entering, their billboard.
Better to stay on smiling terms with the receptionist who handled admin.
Now was the time for the favors he'd scattered to pay off, so he could ask boldly.
"Got it. Send options by mail once selected?"
"Please do."
Major guild business done.
As he slid off the desk and stood, she mentioned the Church letter again.
"The one from the Church—now?"
"Yeah... better grab it before I forget."
"One moment," she said, stepping away.
'Prayer letter? Benediction? Blessing words?'
Too lowbrow for "lucky letter," and he couldn't pin a proper name to it.
Whoever wrote them, each carried a holy aura and varied blessings for his future—impressive stuff.
To his untrained eye, the handwriting seemed masterful; he kept them like talismans whenever they arrived.
"Sorry for the wait."
As he traded thanks for the letter, his eyes narrowed.
The sender was the Church, sure, but the envelope was completely different.
Usually crisp, luxurious paper with gold edging—this was not.
"Whoa, it's really different!"
"Right? That's why we confirmed it again."
That was the check she'd mentioned.
"Hmm."
This wasn't the sturdy paper the Church made themselves.
Probably...
'Cheap stationery store envelope...?'
The light, flimsy look clashed with the Church's heavy gravitas.
The front had the Church's authentication seal, but no sealing wax on the flap.
Curiosity piqued even more.
Scrrch—
He grabbed an empty chair in the guild corner, sat, and used a fingernail to nick the thin wax at the bottom of the flap.
The envelope tore open easily with a light tug.
A fragile sheet that might rip with any real force unfolded.
[To Brother Roman.]
- I wonder if the Platinum Adventurer, busy purging the continent's evils, even remembers a lowly one like me, Shuell.
- Worried that I might be stealing the time of such a noble soul, I spent sleepless nights before deciding to send this letter.
"Ugh... what is this."
It was oppressively burdensome from the start, evoking groans.
No doubt from the Church, anyone could see.
Purging evils? He'd been living true to his desires.
He flipped the envelope again to confirm.
Definitely addressed to him.
Everything but the authenticating seal clashed—the paper and envelope just didn't match.
'Who's Shuell?'
Uncommon name, but no face came to mind.
Closing his eyes yielded nothing, so he shook it off and read on.
-Thanks to your grace, adventurer sir, my shoulder wound healed without issue.
'Ah! That bread-loving girl!'
The girl whose hearty eating left an impression.
Her bright eyes and pure spirit, sharing snacks with a total stranger like him mid-meal—it was a rare innocence in this world.
- Though I've quit adventuring, I've decided to delve deeper into holy spells to aid those wounded in battle who come to the Church.
'Knew it.'
Good on her for finding a path beyond her fears.
The world wasn't kind enough for the complacent; better to hustle and carve out your niche.
Now the lines below flew by.
Full of embarrassing praise elevating him like a great man.
Normally he'd skim past the fluff to the end.
But seeing an underage girl's earnest effort to choose polite words made his lips curl up.
'Am I getting sentimental?'
One letter filled him with undeniable warmth, a mental balm.
The constant anxiety sharpening his nerves around his women faded.
Even the little things he'd pathologically ignored now warranted reflection.
And his decisiveness and focus at work felt sharper.
Not bad at all.
-Our Saintess wishes to personally thank you for this incident, so if you find time later, please contact the Church at your leisure...
Why drag the Saintess into this? As long as the nun was safe, that was fine.
With "at your leisure when time allows," no need to rush.
And no hassle trekking there—the Saintess would soon leave the capital anyway.
Going now felt like it'd trap him in some event.
Better to swing by when holy water or potions ran low, use this as an excuse to stock up.
Thud—
He pocketed the letter in his <Inventory> and headed down to the guild tavern.
