30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 209: The Knights’ Night Out (3)

“......Why is no one here?”

After spending thirty grueling minutes swimming through the treacherous currents and successfully infiltrating the Grand Temple, Ihan blinked in confusion.

He supposed he should just be grateful that he made it inside. But considering the sheer level of security outside, the complete absence of guards inside was... odd.

"Did they cut down on internal patrols, relying entirely on the exterior forces?"

That made sense in theory—but was it really the best strategy?

Ihan tilted his head, puzzled.

But at the same time, he considered himself lucky.

His stamina had taken a serious hit—having to swim while maintaining Turtle Breath Technique, dealing with giant crocodiles and venomous water snakes without shedding a drop of blood...

Seriously, what kind of insane river had that many monsters?

He had to subdue them instead of killing them outright, which made it the most difficult battle he had faced in recent memory.

So, the lack of resistance upon entry?

He’d take it as a small blessing—a chance to catch his breath, even if only for a moment.

That said—

"I don’t have time to rest."

The night wouldn’t last much longer, and every second counted.

There was, however, one minor issue.

“...Where the hell am I?”

Once again, it had to be emphasized—even the royal family didn’t know the full details of the Grand Temple’s interior.

Even the King himself was unaware of its exact layout.

Ihan had infiltrated successfully...

But finding his way inside would be a completely different challenge.

Now officially lost, the knight had to spend some time figuring out where he was.

It was important to note—Ihan hadn’t infiltrated the temple to assassinate anyone.

As he had prayed to the Fairy of Spring—

This mission was all about "righteous theft."

His target?

—[A Sacred Relic].

More specifically, the very sacred relic meant to be granted to Ihan as part of his indulgence.

And the source of this information?

"What kind of gift should I give to Father Raphael?"

Father Raphael.

The only person Ihan considered a true adult in this medieval, barbaric society.

He was the wise old man who had provided Ihan with key intelligence, allowing him to pinpoint the relic’s location.

Ihan’s plan?

To steal—no, temporarily "borrow" the relic and return it later.

And the one who planted the idea in his head—

"Brother, hypothetically speaking, what do you think would happen if the sacred relic meant for you were to suddenly... disappear from the Grand Temple?"

"...Excuse me?"

—Was none other than Father Raphael himself.

"Hoho, don’t be alarmed. It’s just a ‘what-if’ scenario. Don’t take it too seriously—just an old man’s nonsense, hohoho."

"......"

...Yeah, right.

At first, Ihan thought he had misheard.

It almost sounded like a priest was suggesting theft—but in a roundabout way.

Why would the next Pope-to-be even propose such a thing?

Could it be some kind of trap?

Was Raphael testing him?

Trying to lure him into a mistake so he could be eliminated?

Ihan’s confusion quickly turned to suspicion—

And it must have shown on his face, because Raphael chuckled and continued:

"Hahaha, again, this is merely hypothetical... but if the sacred relic meant for you were to suddenly disappear, the temple would be thrown into chaos."

"While the Grand Temple holds many relics, each one is priceless—whether historically or due to the divine power it holds. The temple's most sacred duty is to guard them at all costs."

"Preserving relics is what allowed the Temple of Light to establish its power in the southern regions. If the Grand Temple were to lose one..."

"...Its very authority would be shaken."

"!?"

A sharp jolt ran through Ihan’s mind—like lightning flashing in his thoughts.

He finally understood what Raphael was getting at.

The old man was planning to turn the board upside down.

With force.

"So if the relic disappears...?"

"The entire temple will immediately go into lockdown, and a massive investigation will be launched to root out any potential heretics. More importantly—"

"The specific relic that goes missing will just so happen to be the one meant for you—a detail known only to myself and a few cardinals. That means... we will become the prime suspects and face intense scrutiny."

"......"

Just as the temple had used brutal tactics to corner others, Raphael was planning to corner them—from the inside.

A dangerous maneuver.

"...Are you sure this is okay? If they drag you into the dungeons at your age, you might not make it out alive..."

It was a serious risk—

Not for Ihan, but for Raphael himself.

If the relic vanished, Raphael would undoubtedly be the prime suspect.

After all, he was the only high-ranking member openly opposing the Grand Temple’s current agenda.

The Inquisitors would use this as an excuse to torture him for answers.

"This is a bit much..."

Ihan was about to object when—

"Ah, don’t worry. This worthless old man happens to have a [Sacred Indulgence], after all."

"......"

"Hohoho, after all these years, I was granted one as well. Quite excessive, really."

"......Oh."

Right—this man was a living legend in the temple.

"Hoho, it’s just something I have. I haven’t done anything with it, and neither have you. So there’s no reason to use it, is there?"

"...Ha."

Now Ihan understood.

Raphael wasn’t just some kind old man.

He was a strategist.

"You planned this all along."

"I don’t know what you mean."

"...Right. Let’s go with that. Just hypothetically—if something like this did happen, would it be... acceptable? I mean, you could just sit back and automatically become the Holy King."

"Oh, no, no. Don’t get me wrong—this isn’t about power."

Raphael smiled brightly and said—

"Would becoming Holy King save even a single lost lamb?"

His voice held a force so overwhelming that even Ihan was momentarily speechless.

"I don’t want to sit at a desk signing papers or holding meetings."

"I want to stand with my own two feet and be a shield for the weak."

"......"

"And when these two legs can walk no more, I want to collapse—having given everything to spread the Light’s teachings—only to return to the earth as mere nutrients for the soil."

"......Damn. That’s kind of badass."

"No need to flatter an old man."

"I’m not flattering you."

He was being serious.

For the first time in a long while—

Ihan felt a deep respect for someone from the temple.

And now—

"Ah, I see. This is the rough layout of the area."

Ihan was steadily making progress toward his goal.

Not for Raphael’s sake—but by his own will.

His expression held no complaints.

He simply focused—pressing forward without hesitation.

"━━!"

A roar.

But not a deafening one.

Instead, a gentle, rippling sound filled the vast space.

The same echolocation technique he had used against the Holy Knights the previous night.

If he had to name it in technical terms—

It was [Active Sonar].

A strange ability to have, but useful nonetheless.

As he sent out repeated sonic waves, they bounced off surfaces, revealing the layout of his surroundings.

"I can get a rough idea."

Not everything—but just enough to determine where to go.

It seemed detecting enemies was far easier than mapping out terrain.

Even so—

"I just have to check every suspicious area."

Some might consider this a unique talent—

But Ihan’s greatest skill wasn’t combat.

Nor was it assassination.

"Time to get to work."

If there was one thing he excelled at, it was mind-numbing, repetitive labor.

***

At the same time, while a certain knight was busy laboring away, a gray-haired boy was hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously.

While some worked in the field, others worked just as hard using their brains.

Derrick, too, was doing his best—matching his instructor’s efforts in his own way.

Who could it be?

Hundreds of pages were stacked on the desk, each one densely packed with lines of writing.

Derrick had written down every piece of information he could recall, his wrist aching from the effort.

He kept flipping through the pages, checking for anything he might have missed.

Yet despite all that—

...I don’t get it.

The lack of meaningful results made his head throb.

In the end, Derrick found nothing that could identify the mysterious schemer his instructor was searching for.

“Haa!”

His sigh was one of deep frustration—

80% self-loathing, 20% despair.

If his instructor had been here, he probably would’ve scolded him for chasing his luck away.

But Derrick would have countered with something like, “Actually, studies show that prolonged sighing can reduce stress levels.”

And his instructor, in that ever-kind voice of his, would have replied, “Want me to test that by making you recite pi to the hundredth decimal?”—while grabbing a club.

“...Heh.”

The thought of his instructor erased his gloom for a moment, bringing a smile to his face.

After all, there was no one he found more entertaining.

But at the same time—

...I feel so useless.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

The smile faded just as quickly.

It felt like every piece of information he had was turning out to be wrong.

“...At this point.”

He had to admit it.

...Most of what I know has become obsolete.

The final nail in the coffin was Hayes Roche’s appearance.

His instructor had initially suspected that Lady Irene Windler was Duke Blake’s hidden daughter.

Yet when Irene had seen Hayes, she had tilted her head and muttered, “This isn’t her.”

Which meant—

Even the information she had believed to be true was wrong.

And in Derrick’s case—

The heroine... doesn’t exist.

That alone rendered everything he knew completely worthless.

The heroine.

The main character of the story.

The one who was supposed to drive the core narrative forward.

By now, with Derrick in his second year, the main story should have been kicking into full gear.

Yet the heroine—the central figure of this world—was nowhere to be found.

For Derrick, who had spent all this time expecting her eventual appearance, this realization was devastating.

If this had been a year ago, he probably would’ve panicked, turned pale, and lost his mind.

But now—

At least Instructor is here.

A hero-class irregular.

The one person he trusted more than anyone.

Because of him, Derrick felt confused, but he wasn’t despairing.

And deep down—

Maybe... I saw this coming.

...Maybe he had always suspected this possibility.

That the heroine might not exist at all.

It made sense—

I can’t remember her face...

She was supposed to be here.

Yet her face and name wouldn’t come to mind.

As if she had been swallowed by mist...

Was she erased from this world because her existence was too... convenient?

His instructor always said—

"Don’t treat this world like a game. This is a world where real people live and breathe."

By that logic, the heroine’s very existence was a bug.

Simply by existing, she would have disrupted the world’s balance, forcing it into a romance genre.

And with her gone—

...This isn’t even a romance fantasy anymore.

Now it was just fantasy.

Or rather—

Maybe we should slap [Dark] or [Dystopian] in front of it...

Derrick knew.

If the story continued like this—

Without the heroine, the mediator, the conflict solver—

—Then—

The fundamental law of romance fantasy: If the heroine doesn’t exist, the world turns into a horror-filled apocalyptic nightmare.

And if that happened—

“...Should I just leave the country with Instructor?”

The future was looking so bleak that he found himself seriously considering immigration.

Anywhere but the southern regions would probably be livable, right?

Just as that thought crossed his mind—

“—You’re thinking about something weird again, aren’t you, Derrick?”

“...Lady Karin?”

“Contemplating things isn’t bad, but don’t lose yourself in it. You’re just tormenting yourself.”

“......”

“Hehe, what do you think? Feeling a bit better now?”

“W-Well...”

“Honestly, you look all innocent like a rabbit, but you’re still a man, aren’t you? Hehe.”

“L-Lady Karin!!?”

Derrick’s face turned beet red at Karin’s teasing.

But—

“Ah, there it is. Now you look like yourself again. You’re much better when you’re acting all clueless rather than being overly serious. That’s what makes you cute.”

“......”

“And didn’t I tell you to call me Karin? You really don’t listen, do you?”

“Ugh...”

Derrick swallowed hard.

Even as he did, he found himself thinking—

...She’s pretty.

...Guess I’ll stay after all.

For a moment, he had dreamed of emigrating, but in the end, he abandoned the idea.

Because—she would never leave this kingdom.

And so—he wouldn’t, either.

“Derrick, do you want my lips that badly? Your gaze is burning.”

“W-Wait, no, that’s not—!”

“Come here. Now. There’s something I want to try.”

“W-Wait a second—!?”

...Guess he had to brace himself.

Even in times of war, babies are still born.

No matter how grim the future might seem, romance would always find a way to exist.

Of course—

"—What the hell? Why do I feel like absolute shit all of a sudden?"

...There was at least one knight completely devoid of romance—currently working himself to the bone in the dead of night.

For some reason, his instincts suddenly urged him to find a gray-haired boy and beat the crap out of him.

But he had no idea why.

So the knight just tilted his head in confusion and continued his work.