What is an offensive priest?

Chapter 51 Sharon's Melancholy!

The bonfire in the center of the square was still burning brightly.

The firewood crackled and popped in the flames, and sparks rose up like fireflies flying backwards, disappearing into the dark night.

The villagers indulged themselves, pouring all their joy at surviving the disaster into the sour and strong fruit wine.

Some sang loudly, some embraced and wept, and some collapsed drunk by the campfire, murmuring the names of the deceased.

Revelry and sorrow, like intertwined vines, coexist eerily and harmoniously on this land baptized by blood and fire.

In the center of the stage, the bard who always dreamed of being the star of the party was nowhere to be seen.

The church shrine, a secluded backyard.

There are no campfires, no noise, and no intoxication here.

Only a crescent moon hung among the pine branches, casting its pale light.

Sister Sharon did not attend the party.

She changed back into her simple robe, her long golden hair loosely tied up.

Holding a rough ceramic water jug, he was bending slightly over, carefully tending to the surviving flowers and plants in the yard.

Moonlight shone on her fair profile, and her blue, dawn-like eyes reflected the glistening water droplets on the leaves.

"Come out."

Sharon didn't turn around; her voice was soft, yet it echoed clearly in the empty courtyard.

After a brief silence.

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows in the corner.

It was the bard Omir.

But at this moment, the cynical smile on his face had completely disappeared, and the frivolity of the stage was gone from his emerald eyes, replaced by an almost rigid seriousness.

He walked straight up to Sharon and knelt down on one knee.

Their movements were as precise as those of a palace guard who had undergone hundreds of training sessions.

He lowered his head, which was always held high as if he didn't care about anything, and spoke softly in a respectful tone that was almost humble.

"Greetings, Miss."

Sharon did not respond immediately.

She simply continued watering a white iris with broken stems and leaves, yet still stubbornly alive, her movements as gentle as if she were stroking a baby's cheek.

a long time.

She slowly straightened up, gently placed the kettle on the stone steps, then turned around and looked down at the kneeling bard.

Get up.

Sharon's voice was calm, yet carried an innate air of nobility.

"You did a good job this time."

"The duties of a subordinate."

Omir responded respectfully, then slowly rose to his feet.

The moment he stood up, his face began to ripple and distort like water.

It was no longer the face of a bard, so handsome it was almost feminine, always wearing a cynical smile.

Instead, it was the face of a middle-aged man with the same blond hair, but with more rugged features and sharper eyes.

His posture was no longer that of a relaxed bard, but rather straight as a spear, with his hands hanging naturally at his sides, as if it were a habitual, guarded stance formed after long-term training.

"Where is the person you were impersonating?"

Sharon asked casually, as if inquiring about a trivial matter.

"Don't worry, Miss."

The male guard answered respectfully.

"After my subordinates drugged him, they placed him in a room at a tavern in Deepwater City."

"Once he wakes up, based on his walking distance, he should arrive in Blackrock Town in three days."

"Um."

Sharon nodded slightly, indicating her satisfaction with his arrangements.

But the guard's face showed obvious hesitation.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but dared not speak.

"Speak your mind."

Sharon glanced at him, her voice revealing neither joy nor anger.

"Yes."

The male guard took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

"Miss, the lord requests that you bring Pastor Richard back to Waterdeep as soon as possible."

He said…

The male guard carefully observed Sharon's expression.

"It's time to stop playing around."

"..."

Sharon fell silent.

Her morning-blue eyes gazed at the white iris, a complex emotion flashing in them—hesitation, struggle, and even a hint of longing that she herself was unaware of.

a long time.

She then spoke softly.

"I see."

The voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable firmness:

"I have my own considerations on this matter."

"But Miss—"

The male guard, disregarding any impropriety, spoke with obvious anxiety.

"Your subordinate received your orders and left Waterdeep without permission to come to Blackrock Town for rescue. The lord is already somewhat displeased."

He gritted his teeth and finally said the words he had been holding back for so long.

"Please...do not disobey the lord's arrangements any longer."

"presumptuous!"

Sharon turned around abruptly.

Her usual gentle and calm demeanor suddenly turned icy cold at this moment.

For the first time, her blue eyes, as clear as the morning sun, revealed the majesty and anger befitting a noble lady!

Are you ordering me around?

The voice wasn't loud, but it pierced the guard's ears like an ice pick.

"Your subordinate wouldn't dare!"

The guard's face turned pale, and he almost instinctively knelt down again, his forehead beaded with cold sweat.

"I was just... just worried about your safety, Miss."

"My affairs are none of your concern."

Sharon interrupted him coldly.

"You should go back now."

She paused, then added.

"Tell Father that Reverend Richard's identity has not yet been confirmed."

"He may not be the person my father is looking for."

"I will use a secret technique to send him further updates."

"Yes……"

The male guard responded in a low voice, then slowly stood up, preparing to turn and leave.

Just then.

"etc."

Sharon suddenly called out to him.

The male guard stopped and turned around respectfully.

"Does Miss have any further instructions?"

Sharon remained silent for a moment.

Her gaze drifted unconsciously toward the square, where the glow of the bonfire and the faint sounds of laughter could be heard.

Then, she asked softly.

"Where is Pastor Richard?"

"Is he still at the party? Hasn't he come back yet?"

The male guard was slightly taken aback, seemingly not expecting the young lady to ask this question.

But he quickly realized what was happening and answered respectfully.

"Miss, Reverend Richard did not attend the party."

He paused, then added.

"And... that disguised drow mage is also not here."

"..."

Upon hearing this, Sharon's brows furrowed instantly, revealing a hint of unease.

"I see."

Her voice regained its calmness, but a certain suppressed emotion within it made the guard instinctively lower his head.

"You should go back now."

"remember--"

Sharon gave him one last look, a hint of warning flashing in her dawn-blue eyes.

"Don't let anyone discover your identity."

"Yes."

The male guard bowed and then, as if blending into the shadows, silently disappeared into the corner of the courtyard.

The church returned to silence.

Only the rustling of the night wind through the pine branches and the faint sounds of laughter from a distant bonfire party could be heard.

But Sharon's heart could no longer find peace.

She slowly walked to the white iris, stretched out her slender fingers, and gently stroked the glistening water droplets on the leaves.

Her movements were gentle, but her mind was elsewhere.

A lone man and a lone woman...

He did not show up at the party...

Where did it go?

This thought grew wildly in her mind like a vine.

She forced herself not to think about it.

But the more I try not to think about it, the clearer the image becomes.

"Perhaps, they were just going to pay their respects to the deceased."

Sharon murmured to herself, as if trying to convince herself.

-

By the time Richard finally returned to the church, it was already late at night.

The bonfire in the square was reduced to embers, and the revelrying villagers had long since dispersed, with only a few drunkards still slumped over the stone table, muttering in their sleep.

The entire town of Blackrock, like a wounded man exhausted from his battles, fell into a deep sleep amidst the weariness of victory and grief.

There were no lights on in the church hall.

Only the cold moonlight shone through the stained glass windows, casting mottled and eerie shadows on the stone floor, like a shattered dream.

Richard pushed open the heavy oak door, the creaking sound particularly jarring in the empty hall.

He closed the door behind him and was about to go back to the second floor to rest via the spiral staircase in the side corridor.

"Pastor Richard..."

A familiar voice suddenly rang out from the depths of the hall, with a hint of tension in its tone.

Richard paused, turning his head to look in the direction of the sound.

On the bench closest to the altar, a figure dressed in a pure white nun's robe sat quietly.

Sharon.

She was almost completely blended into the shadows of the bench; if it weren't for her pure white attire, still faintly discernible in the darkness, and her bright, clear blue eyes, she would have been virtually undetectable.

"Why did it take you so long to get back?"

Richard looked somewhat surprised, not expecting Sharon to still be waiting for him.

"I went to the cemetery in the north."

"Why aren't you resting yet?"

Sharon did not answer immediately.

She simply stood up slowly, the hem of her nun's robe fluttering silently in the shadows.

The moonlight finally slanted across her profile, revealing her still exquisite face, though veiled with weariness, and her jewel-like blue eyes.

"Just you... by yourself?"

She spoke again, and a certain meaning in her voice made Richard pause slightly.

He shook his head.

"And Avel."

"I knew it..."

Sharon's deep blue eyes held an indescribable melancholy.

She walked up to Richard and, as usual, naturally helped him remove his priest's robes.

After receiving the clothes, she quietly brought her nose close and gently inhaled their scent.

It's alright, I don't smell like that woman on me...

Her shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and the faint resentment and scrutiny that had been floating in her deep blue eyes faded away a bit.

Richard noticed Sharon's subtle movements, but subtly looked away, pretending not to notice.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed before, where Sharon always seemed to take away his ceremonial robes under the guise of tidying or cleaning.

However, at that time she was still careful, doing it discreetly and with restraint.

Don't you hide it from me anymore?

"It's getting late," Richard said, his voice tinged with weariness. "You should get some rest too."

Sharon raised her head, her face regaining its usual gentle and serene expression.

"Yes, you too."

She paused, then said softly.

"I will wash the sacrificial robe and return it to you tomorrow."

Richard's eyes looked somewhat unreadable.

"Do as you please..."