Pirate Phantom
patreon
Chapter 121: The Joy of Talking Big
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 22:10:03 +0000 UTC“…Take your sister, for example. Her skin’s fair, but pale in that refined way. Her face and bearing show good upbringing. Graceful figure, well-proportioned curves. She’s sixteen and still growing—if she develops a bit more, her chest will be fuller, her hips rounder, and then… heh, heh, heh!”
Gehrman looked every bit the lecherous old wolf as he rambled about his beautiful apprentice. After years of wandering the continent, he’d seen every kind of woman and believed himself qualified to judge beauty.
Talk was one thing—he’d never dare say such things to her face.
“So how many points would you give Sister Maria?”
Already long defeated by her master’s shamelessness, Felia asked with her usual deadpan tone.
“Now you’re asking the right man!”
Gehrman clapped once, grinning. When it came to this topic, he could go on for three days and nights without tiring.
“Ahem…”
He cleared his throat theatrically, then recalled the day he first met the Pastor’s eldest daughter. That moment had struck him like lightning—so much that this old man felt emotions he couldn’t name.
If not for that, he’d never have taken Maria as his disciple so easily.
“Ninety-nine points,” he finally declared.
“Why not a hundred?”
Felia was indignant. Her sister was perfect—why take off a point?
“You don’t understand. That one point separates a girl from a woman.”
“Oh? So you understand women, do you?”
The voice came flat and calm from behind. A black-clad figure stood close enough to touch, yet neither of them had noticed her approach—as if she’d been there the whole time.
“Just kidding! My beautiful apprentice—of course I understand—heh…”
Gehrman turned mid-sentence. His tongue knotted instantly. His face froze as he looked at the black-robed nun.
Miss Maria stood there, hands folded neatly before her abdomen.
She gazed down at her so-called master, her expression unreadable. Sunlight poured through the cathedral’s stained glass, catching in her scarlet eyes and turning them to liquid crimson light.
“‘Her chest will be fuller, her hips rounder, and then… heh, heh, heh,’” Maria repeated slowly, word for word. Her tone was calm—too calm. It was not anger or embarrassment, but the detachment of someone commenting on the weather.
Gehrman’s face twisted. He realized he had indeed talked too much.
“Sis, punch him!”
Seeing her sister’s return and catching the pervert red-handed, Felia gleefully egged her on.
“Gehrman, stop teaching Felia bad habits.”
Maria’s hand brushed her sister’s head, dissolving the awkward tension with one simple gesture.
Could she get angry? Of course. A slap would be easy. But would it solve anything?
No. Gehrman was simply like that—and she owed him two lives: one for saving her body, one for saving her heart. Unless it was something unforgivable, she didn’t bother. Empty talk wasn’t worth her anger.
Gehrman caught her meaning and exhaled quietly.
Understanding. Poise. Grace. Look at his disciple! Not like that loud, green-skinned country brat—these sisters were worlds apart.
“Hmph, lucky you,” Felia muttered, pressing her sister’s cool palm to her cheek, glaring triumphantly at Gehrman.
Tonight, she’d whisper in her sister’s ear, expose this shameless man, and make sure Maria punished him properly—maybe even chased him out!
“The road treat you well?”
When the awkwardness faded, Gehrman’s casual tone turned serious.
“All went smoothly.”
Not entirely true. The Lord of Cinder affair had concluded, yes—but beneath that “smooth” surface churned unseen currents. This wasn’t the time to discuss them. After returning to the Luminous Cathedral, she had come straight to see Gehrman and Felia, not even meeting Archbishop Mark yet.
The transaction wasn’t finished.
For now, she still served under Archbishop Mark as a special operative against Chaos. Once her mission was complete, a formal report was inevitable. That much went without saying.
After a brief explanation, the travel-worn Maria stopped a passing attendant, asking him to inform the Archbishop. Then she found a basin and washed her face.
While waiting, she noticed the change.
The Luminous Cathedral, once solemn and orderly, had always embodied the calm authority of the Church. Even when facing the darkness, it had seemed untouchable.
Now?
The structure remained, but the air was different—restless, fervent, unstable.
The Luminous Cathedral was the heart of the Radiant Church. The faithful worshiped here, believing its marble halls captured the divine light of the sun itself. The Church ruled from within these walls, while the Cathedral stood as its symbol. One was faith in motion, the other faith in stone. Together they had endured for centuries—unyielding, unbroken. Yet now even that unity felt strained, as if too much light had begun to burn instead of illuminate.
Maria had seen that kind of madness before: among the fanatics of the Radiant Church parading through Torrent City, their devotion twisted into disease.
A sickness. Contagious.
She’d been gone less than six days, and already the infection had reached the Luminous Cathedral. The faithful were easily stirred by slogans—and those who stirred them were either fools or schemers.
Maria’s eyes were clear as mirrors, reflecting every detail without distortion.
She didn’t wait long.
Just as she sat down, an attendant arrived with the Archbishop’s summons. Mark clearly couldn’t wait to see the woman who had survived the Lord of Cinder affair.
Or perhaps…
Maria brushed her sleeve, feeling the sealed scroll hidden within—a fragment of a Khorne daemon’s remains.
She was ready.
It was time to end this shameful bargain once and for all.
