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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 158: Saint Hill (1)
The characteristic warmth of winter morning sunlight seeped through the window.
Normally, this would be the time for coffee and reading research papers.
But right now, Oscar was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He blinked and even rolled his eyes in a full 360-degree motion, as if experiencing something unfamiliar.
"……."
Slowly sitting up, he checked the time.
10:14 AM.
The meaning was clear.
‘I slept.’
For a full thirteen hours.
Thanks to that, his body felt lighter than ever.
It seemed that all the accumulated fatigue from his time on the artificial island had been wiped away in an instant.
But more important than just getting good sleep was something else.
‘I didn’t dream.’
Oscar pulled out the object he suspected was responsible.
A curse-protection talisman—a gift from Kiri.
"Hmm."
The business card-sized charm was about one-third burnt and shriveled.
‘It was supposed to be a one-time use… but can I use it twice more?’
The reason wasn’t hard to guess.
Suppressing an already manifested curse was likely much easier than preventing a new one.
Oscar stared at the talisman with fascination.
‘Black Tower’s curse magic, huh.’
That faction had existed for a long time, but in his previous life, he hadn’t paid much attention to it.
Or rather, this kind of item didn’t even exist back then.
At the time, the Black Tower’s main focus was death and corpse research.
‘But now, their specialties are machine golems and curse magic.’
He carefully put the charm back in his pocket.
If his calculations were correct, he had two more nights of dreamless sleep.
That alone felt like a ray of light in his exhausting life.
‘It’d be great if I could get the Black Tower Master’s protective charm too.’
After all, he was only human.
Once he confirmed something was effective, he wanted the best version of it.
Standing up, Oscar stretched his body.
"Mmhh."
It felt good.
Too good.
Even though he regularly massaged his muscles with mana, his trapezius—always stiff—felt as soft as a baby’s.
His head, which had been feeling heavy recently, was now as light as a feather.
Even his skin looked smoother in the mirror, almost radiant.
After stretching for a while, Oscar chuckled.
"Sleep really is the best medicine."
Who knew a good night’s sleep could change his condition this much?
After a quick shower, he headed to the Special Task Force office.
As he stepped inside, he smiled brightly and greeted the others.
"Good morning! Did everyone sleep well?"
"……."
"……."
The three people already at their desks, reading reports, all turned to stare at him.
Veronica was the first to speak, her tone sharp.
"Did you eat something weird?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why are you acting all creepy this morning?"
"What did I even do?"
"If you don’t get it, go look in the mirror."
Oscar turned to check his reflection.
There, he saw himself smiling.
"……I don’t see anything strange? I think it looks nice."
"That’s the problem! The fact that you're smiling!"
Veronica squinted at him, like a stray cat bristling in suspicion.
"You always walk around with a neutral face—at best. The only time you smile is in a quick smirk."
"Do I?"
That was news to him.
But beside her, Fran added his thoughts.
"Honestly, even having a neutral face is a huge improvement. You used to always scowl. You never smirked—just clicked your tongue all the time."
"……."
What kind of person were you, past-Oscar?
Sighing lightly, Oscar shrugged.
"People change."
"That’s true… but please, don’t change any more."
"Why not?"
"If you start walking around acting like a normal, cheerful guy, my whole worldview is going to collapse."
"……."
So basically, he wasn’t a normal person in their eyes?
Letting out an exasperated chuckle, he shook his head.
Fran clapped his hands.
"Yes! That face! That annoyed, dumbfounded expression! That’s the real you!"
"Enough nonsense. Just sit down already."
Seated at the meeting table, Oscar glanced at the pile of reports.
"Anything interesting?"
"Not yet."
"Same."
"Nothing on my end either."
Oscar gave a small nod.
In reality, most of the reports that came into the Special Task Force were useless.
Since their office archived nearly every event happening in Sirin, they got reports on everything.
"Missing cat… suspected cheating fiancé… fraud case…"
Most of these weren’t cases that required their involvement.
But still, reading through them was part of the job.
For the next few hours, the four of them quietly read the reports.
Then—
"Hmm?"
After hours of silence, Killian made a noise.
All eyes turned to him as he tilted his head and held up a document.
"This one seems off. I think it was sent here by mistake."
"What is it? Let me see."
Oscar took the report and scanned it quickly.
* * *
To: Special Task Force Chief, Oscar Cruciang
From: Pedro X.
Subject: Report on Saint Hill's Strange Behavior
As I write this letter, you’re probably attending the Mages Night event.
A Wind Rider recently submitted a report to me, and I think you should take a look.
At least from my reading, the contents seem quite suspicious.
Below is the full report, so read it and judge for yourself.
* * *
The report was from Senior Pedro.
Oscar began reading the report attached beneath his brief greeting.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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* * *
To the Head of the Delivery Department,
Hello. My name is Hank Over, a civilian Wind Rider employed by the Wind Tribe.
I am submitting this report because the current state of my jurisdiction, Saint Hill, has been unusual lately.
As you know, the village is located northwest of Sirin and has an extremely closed-off community.
They strictly forbid external contact, but they have consistently used White Tower’s delivery service through the mailbox installed at their front gate.
Primarily, they use it to respond to letters from outsiders or order essential supplies.
However, they have not used the service for over two months now.
At first, I dismissed it, thinking it was just one of their odd behaviors, but something about it feels off.
So, I am submitting this report.
That is all.
* * *
The report ended there.
After Oscar finished reading, he handed the report to Fran and Veronica, and Killian spoke up.
"What do you think?"
"Hmm. It’s definitely suspicious."
White Tower’s delivery service—though it may be a bit boastful to say—was something you couldn’t stop using once you started.
It was the only service of its kind, allowing people to order goods from the comfort of their homes.
For a community as isolated as Saint Hill, they should have had no choice but to rely on it.
"Do you know what this Saint Hill place is? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it."
"I know it. It’s not the kind of place you’d forget."
Oscar shrugged, recalling some unpleasant memories.
"It’s a cult community. Their leader established an entire village with his followers."
It might sound ridiculous, but in reality, the group had a long history.
It had been around since Oscar’s previous life when he was a child—at least fifty years, if not more.
He knew this because, as a child wandering the streets, they had once tried to recruit him.
‘Join us, and we’ll give you new clothes, a place to sleep, and food every day,’ they had said.
But even as a child, Oscar was sharp enough to refuse immediately.
Something about their eyes had seemed off—these were not people he wanted to be around.
"A village made up of cult followers, huh... What do they believe in?"
"I don’t know. I only remember the name of their religion—Salvation Church."
They had roamed the streets singing about the "Salvation Church" all day, which was the only reason he remembered.
By the time Veronica finished reading, she was frowning.
"This is strange. Isn’t the empire’s state religion El-Terraism? How can a cult like this exist openly?"
"They don’t go around officially recruiting people, so as long as they keep to themselves, there’s no need to eradicate them."
Of course, they secretly conducted missionary work, as they had tried with him long ago.
He remembered them so vividly because he had witnessed their deaths firsthand.
It was probably the first time he had seen a human skull get crushed.
"Of course, if they ever run into El-Terra’s paladins, they’re executed on the spot."
Oscar let out a dry chuckle and stared at the report.
"Personally, I’d rather not get involved with these people..."
But Saint Hill was precariously situated on the very edge of White Tower’s territory.
Tsk.
Clicking his tongue, Oscar grabbed his robe and stood up.
"Let’s go. If we leave now, we’ll arrive in two days."
* * *
It was a mistake.
And by mistake, he meant he had overestimated Fran’s driving skills.
They were supposed to arrive by morning on the second day, but they only reached their destination after sunset.
"What do you want me to do? The road was winding, it was my first time here, and there was thick fog everywhere!"
Fran vented his frustration, but unfortunately, no one in the group sympathized.
"You should’ve studied the route beforehand."
Veronica Fricks (21, unlicensed)
"It would’ve been faster if we stopped and ran."
Killian Lockwood (21, unlicensed)
"You heard them?"
Oscar Crucian (21+30, unlicensed)
Surrounded by people who had never touched a steering wheel, Fran was about to lose his mind.
"Wow, unbelievable. Couldn’t you at least try to empathize? Ugh, never mind."
He waved them off, looking sulky as he stepped out of the car.
Then, he glanced at the structure ahead.
"Is this it? The place called Saint Hill?"
"According to the map. I’ve never been here myself."
Through the white mist, a towering structure resembling a grand temple became visible.
Oscar clicked his tongue.
"For a cult, they sure built an entrance fit for the state religion."
"Where did they get the money and manpower to build something like this?"
"Who knows? Maybe there are more wealthy cult fanatics than we think."
Approaching the temple, Oscar first checked the White Tower’s white mailbox at the entrance.
Inside, he found a few letters—weeks old.
"Not responding to letters is one thing, but not even reading incoming mail?"
"This is unsettling. What if they all died from some plague?"
"A plague?"
The mention of a disease made all four of them think of Cadena Flu.
It was the most recent and deadly epidemic they could recall.
"But the timing doesn’t match, does it?"
"It doesn’t. According to the report, they stopped using deliveries only two months ago."
After closing the mailbox, Oscar resumed walking.
Clank, clank.
Naturally, the temple’s massive front gate was locked tight.
It didn’t budge, as if barred from the inside.
"Hello? Is anyone in there?"
His voice echoed through the misty forest.
"Step aside."
Killian clenched his fist, ready to break down the door.
But just then—
Clank, clank, clank!
The massive temple gates began to open with a sound like grinding gears.
"…Excuse us."
Oscar and Killian stepped in first, followed by a tense Fran and Veronica.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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