Chapter 401: You Hurt My Heart (Requesting Subscription)
Question:
“How do you court a mature woman who is superior to you in strength, status, and age (a monster girl)?”
“Cough! And she’s also your direct superior…”
Urgent! Waiting online!
Herbert looked at the unexpected visitor and felt a faint flush of embarrassment.
“Ah, this…”
He was confident he could easily win over anyone he’d already succeeded with, but he never expected someone to appear while he was still in the middle of courting.
This is going to be tricky.
But to be fair, the Ash Bishop’s attribute combination sounds quite appealing.
If this character had appeared at his past life workplace, Herbert wouldn't have minded pursuing her.
Win the achievement, or just write it off.
Not into older women?
Older women are great—I want exactly that.
Young and naive, I thought girls were treasures; now I know it’s the wealthy women who matter.
Of course, Herbert has always been very affectionate.
As long as the target zone is wide enough, whether she’s a mature beauty or a little girl, he loves them all the same.
All the same!
But now… how do I even start?
Herbert fell silent, pondering how to break the ice, while the Ash Bishop’s phantom across from him also remained quiet, watching him steadily, waiting.
After a moment’s thought, Herbert decided to greet her first.
At the very least, get the conversation started, then adapt on the fly.
Herbert waved his hand, flashing a bright, sunny smile, and greeted warmly: “Uh, you… hmm?”
But just as Herbert was about to ask, “Have you eaten today?” he suddenly froze.
Hmm?
Herbert’s brow twitched slightly; he narrowed his eyes at the Ash Bishop, sensing something unusual.
Something’s off.
Her posture right now… isn’t it a bit too distant?
Whenever facing Herbert, the Ash Bishop had always been relaxed and natural, radiating casual superiority.
But now, she subtly shifted her weight backward, as if bracing for Herbert to strike back—or to flee at any moment.
Either way, what she showed Herbert now was vigilance and unease.
Huh?
After reading her body language, Herbert’s mouth twisted sharply.
Herbert felt deeply wounded—he was so utterly untrusted!
Come on, are you really that distant?!
Is that really necessary?!
I just… bit your tail once!
You’re an Epic-tier powerhouse—can’t you handle that?
Do you really need to be this wary of me?
I’m not a madman!
Do you really think I’d just charge out in broad daylight and lick your tail again?!
Do you think I’m the kind of person who’d do that?
No!
If I really wanted to, I’d wait for the right moment.
Would Herbert repeat his previous act of desecration if given the chance?
Of course he would.
But only when the timing was right—not by charging in without preparation. Two reasons: first, it’s insane; second, he’d lose.
He needed the perfect moment—right time, right place, right circumstances.
Herbert thought her vigilance was pointless—it only hurt his feelings, serving no other purpose.
In a bad mood, Herbert smirked, crossed his arms, and glared sideways at the Ash Bishop, his body language screaming: You’ve hurt me deeply!
Both remained silent, staring at each other without a word.
“… ”
After a long while, the Ash Bishop finally broke the silence, her voice filled with confusion: “You… why are you looking at me like that?”
Won!
Herbert had won this endurance contest.
He secretly gloated, then let out a soft hum.
“Hmph, you don’t know why? You hurt me, yet you’re trying to pretend it never happened!”
The situation was absurd.
Herbert had been the one who “offended” her earlier, yet now he acted like the injured party.
Of course, Herbert wasn’t some Bai Chi who believed he was always right—he was just goofing around with the Ash Bishop.
Using a joke to break the ice, to draw them closer and restore normalcy to the awkward atmosphere.
Herbert would act silly, the Ash Bishop would scold him playfully, and the matter would be dropped.
But… the Ash Bishop didn’t seem inclined to play along. She didn’t respond to his performance.
“… ”
She even slowly stepped back, under Herbert’s stunned gaze.
Herbert: ?
No!!?
Do you really have to go this far?
Didn’t you just say you’d forgive me and it wouldn’t happen again?
How are you secretly holding a grudge?!
Just as Herbert wondered what he’d done wrong again, the Ash Bishop spoke.
Her silver voice, slightly different from before, was thick with confusion: “I’m sorry, I don’t recall ever hurting you—I don’t even know who you are.”
“Could you remind me? If it truly was my fault, I will apologize.” She tilted her head, puzzled.
“You don’t know? You know! You’re hurting me right now—hmm!!?” Herbert complained, then froze.
What did she say?
Herbert swallowed hard, frowning as he asked slowly: “You… don’t know me?”
“Yes.”
The Ash Bishop nodded gently, calmly: “I’m sorry, but I truly don’t recognize you.”
“White hair like yours is memorable, yet I have no recollection of you at all.”
Hearing her explanation—serious yet distant—Herbert nodded silently.
“… Mm.”
At this moment, his face appeared calm, but his mind was in turmoil.
Doesn’t know me?
What does that mean?
Angry? Refusing to see me again?
Playing the stranger game?
Or… is she genuinely unaware of me?
Amnesia?
Come on, this isn’t a Korean drama—why does this plot suddenly appear?!
…
Herbert mentally ranted for a long while, finding the situation deeply strange.
His first thought was that the Ash Bishop was sulking, pretending not to know him.
I was just joking with you before!
Why are you suddenly so distant? So petty?
But Herbert also had another theory.
What if the Ash Bishop was telling the truth?
What if… she truly had no memory of this?
After searching his thoughts, he slowly raised his head, took a deep breath, and asked: “Sorry, I’m a bit confused—could you tell me what year it is now?”
“What year?”
The Ash Bishop tilted her head, puzzled, but answered: “The Faith Era has just passed its second millennium.”
Upon hearing the answer, Herbert, though prepared, felt a jolt in his chest.
The second millennium—that is, the Year 2000 of the Age of Faith!
A thousand years ago!
His sixth sense had been right: this Ash Bishop was truly off.
The Ash Bishop before him was not the one he knew, but her—during her “girlhood” (questionable)—a thousand years in the past!
Was this a temporal dislocation? Or a fragment of ancient memory?
Herbert leaned toward the latter.
Under the unknown effect of [Silence and Noise], he had encountered a memory from a thousand years ago.
Or, if his earlier hypothesis—that “the phantoms were not merely from his own memories”—held true, this was likely a memory from the Ash Bishop herself.
Seeing Herbert lost in thought, the Ash Bishop waited a moment before asking: “So, can you tell me where we met before? And how did I hurt you?”
She genuinely wondered what she had ever done to this man.
Eyes never lie: his earlier joy had been real—he truly recognized her.
Yet she remembered nothing, and this made her feel guilty.
Moreover, the Holy Knight aura radiating from him was undeniable—he was not lying.
Who are you?
Who are you really?
“...No need.”
Herbert took a deep breath, looked at the Ash Bishop, and shook his head with forced strength.
He lowered his head and sighed: “Since you don’t remember, there’s no point in trying to recall. Let the past be as if it never happened.”
Herbert’s voice was low and hoarse, heavy with deep exhaustion.
His demeanor—the wounded, devoted man betrayed by a “slut”—left the Ash Bishop utterly flustered.
“...You?”
The Ash Bishop was bewildered.
What was going on?
It seemed she had somehow inherited a crushing emotional debt—but she didn’t even know him!
“Since you don’t remember me, that’s fine. Let’s... pretend we’re meeting for the first time.”
“Yes, exactly!”
Herbert suddenly lifted his head, shook off his gloom with force, his eyes blazing again as he fixed them on the Ash Bishop and said firmly:
“Let us properly know each other again.”
He stepped forward, arriving before the Ash Bishop, and bowed to her with the highest Holy Knight salute.
“Holy Knight, Herbert Albert, greetings to you!”
In response to Herbert’s “respectful bow,” the Ash Bishop was flustered, but after a silence, she returned the bow, bowing deeply in turn.
“Keeper of Secrets, Ophidia, greetings to you.”
After the bow, Herbert nodded to Ophidia and offered a gentle smile.
He exhaled a long, quiet breath inside.
Good.
Very good.
The name—now in hand!
When he had previously interacted with the Ash Bishop, he had always been in a subordinate position, lacking the standing to speak with her as an equal.
This was the first time he had learned her true name.
Now that he had the name, his performance could continue.
Otherwise, if you claimed to know someone and had been hurt by them, yet didn’t even know their name, it would be utterly implausible.
Herbert nodded inwardly, then noticed the Ash Bishop—no, Ophidia—remaining silent after being tricked into revealing her name.
Like a clam, not a single word escaped her lips.
“Why are you so silent? Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” he asked, puzzled.
That doesn’t make sense.
In this situation, even if you’re quiet, shouldn’t you ask at least a couple of questions?
Besides, in Herbert’s memory, the future Ash Bishop was never a socially anxious mute.
“...”
The Ash Bishop fell silent for a moment, then shook her head wearily: “Keepers of Secrets are silent. Words are not our weapons—silence is.”
Hearing this, Herbert suddenly understood: the greatest difference between this Ophidia and the future Ash Bishop.
If the future Ash Bishop seemed like a detached elder, indifferent to dogma, then this Ophidia was the very model of a Keeper of Secrets—strictly adhering to every rule.
Concealing her face, maintaining silence, enduring solitude.
Like a taut string, stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.
Herbert knew nothing of the conditions a thousand years ago—he did not know what had happened to Ophidia, what she had endured in that era.
But he could see: Ophidia bore a heavy burden.
An invisible shadow, like a colossal mountain, pressed upon her, nearly crushing her spine.
So he chose to speak directly.
Herbert looked at Ophidia and asked softly, with pity in his voice: “Is it hard, carrying all this?”
He did not specify what she bore—he did not know.
But Ophidia understood.
Beneath her hood, her face subtly shifted; she bit her lip, then slowly shook her head: “...It is my duty.”
She did not deny the hardship, nor stubbornly insisted she was unweary.
She answered with “duty.”
“After they left, since I chose to bear their souls and guard these secrets alone, I must shoulder this responsibility.”
After they left, since I chose to bear their souls and guard these secrets alone, I must shoulder this responsibility.
Whether because she had been asked too many times, or because she had rehearsed this answer countless times in her heart.
She was a Keeper of Secrets—destined from the start to walk alone.
She had long known her burden.
Herbert fell silent, then shook his head and asked: “Ophidia, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. Couldn’t you find someone to share this burden?”
Herbert fell silent for a moment, shook his head, and asked, “Ophidia, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself—couldn’t you find someone else to share the burden?”
Ophidia showed no anger at being underestimated; she knew Herbert was concerned, and explained gently: “Herbert, I understand your worry—but... this is my own choice.”
Ophidia felt no anger at being dismissed; she knew Herbert was worried for her, and she explained slowly, “Herbert, I understand your concern, but… this is my own choice.”
Some choose to uphold dogma for life; some choose to ally with dark gods; others choose to bear everything.
“Besides, who could I turn to?”
Ophidia shook her head, calmly stating the truth: “Since that disaster, the Keepers of Secrets of the Mist Monastery have ceased to exist—no more sacrifices are needed...”
Ophidia shook her head and stated the fact calmly: “Since that disaster, the Keeper of Secrets of the Mist Monastery has already ceased to exist in all but name—there is no need for any new sacrifices…”
A steady, powerful voice cut through Ophidia’s sigh.
Herbert’s expression turned solemn as he stepped forward again.
He looked at Ophidia, clearly unprepared for this turn, and said firmly:
“I will become a Keeper of Secrets.”
“Let me stand with you!”
(End of Chapter)
(End of Chapter)
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