30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 203

No matter how luxurious and vast a mansion or a building may be, it will never be completely flawless.

Why?

Because it’s impossible to get rid of every last speck of dust or every single insect.

Especially in areas where sunlight never reaches, filth naturally accumulates.

That’s why cleaning is never something to take lightly, and why people pay a hefty price for professional cleaning services.

Even if you think you’ve been thorough, you never really know where dirt and grime might be lurking.

With that in mind...

“It’s hard to believe it’s already been thirteen years since I graduated from the academy.”

“You? You went to an academy?”

“I graduated at the top of the swordsmanship department.”

“...Must’ve been a slow year.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m joking.”

The vastness of the academy made it a natural breeding ground for filth—both the literal kind and the metaphorical.

The eastern sector of the academy, resembling a sprawling city, was covered in thick vegetation. It was home to rare medicinal herbs and valuable lumber, making it a place that was rarely visited unless one was part of the alchemy or magic department.

Especially on a day like today, when the entrance exam was taking place, it was even less likely to have visitors—making it the perfect hiding spot for outsiders.

...That said, even if someone did venture into the forest, they wouldn’t be able to notice a single trace of human presence.

After all—

“There’s no one here who can detect Sacred Arts, right?”

“The nuns in the infirmary are skilled, but they’re nowhere near capable of sensing our techniques.”

Wuuuuung.

Sacred Arts.

A divine set of techniques that only priests, nuns, and other worshippers of the holy light could wield. Some referred to it as holy magic, and for good reason—the variety of Sacred Arts was almost endless.

And the very fact that these people were using them meant only one thing:

They were agents of the temple.

[Veil of the Holy Light.]

A Sacred Art specialized in concealment, one that erased not only the caster’s form but also their very presence.

The fact that they were using this technique despite already being hidden deep within the forest showed just how meticulous they were in covering all contingencies.

And within the temple, only two groups were known for wielding Sacred Arts with such proficiency.

One was the temple’s hunting dogs—the Inquisitors, who lurked in the shadows.

The other was the temple’s knights—warriors in gleaming white armor who wielded both Sacred Arts and combat techniques, carrying greater honor and glory than any ordinary knightly order.

That made identifying these people a simple matter.

Their white armor, emblazoned with the insignia of a swan, told everything one needed to know.

[Holy Knights.]

The temple’s warriors, trained in both combat techniques and Sacred Arts.

“Commander, is it really necessary for us to go this far?”

“What, is your pride getting hurt?”

“...I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t.”

“Then swallow that pride for now. Restoring the temple’s glory is far more important than personal honor.”

“Is this really possible?”

“You doubt it?”

“The plan itself makes sense, but... the real issue is whether we can actually deceive Galahad.”

“...It should be possible.”

“?”

“There’s a way.”

“...You don’t sound too confident, Commander. That’s not like you.”

“...Shut it.”

The commander didn’t elaborate.

No matter how trusted the knights were, he couldn’t share classified information so easily.

...Though, to be honest, it was also just a hassle to deal with their inevitable protests.

For the knights unaware of the full details—

“This is really unfair, you know.”

—they could only voice their frustrations.

A towering Holy Knight, Victor, grumbled under his breath.

He respected the commander, but the constant secrecy frustrated him to no end.

“Victor, watch your tone with the commander.”

“Why do you always pick on me, senior? Tch.”

“You little—!”

The two knights growled at each other, but the commander didn’t bother stopping them.

Even without saying it aloud, he knew why his knights were so discontent.

After all, what kind of Holy Knights would be pleased about escorting a single woman?

He himself wasn’t happy about it either.

‘If it weren’t for the patriarch’s orders, I wouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place.’

It was ridiculous, really.

‘A plan to create a Saintess...’

Absurd.

They were trying to manufacture a so-called divine child—one supposedly chosen by the gods—through mere human schemes.

It was nonsense.

But more than anything—

“—So the temple’s plan was to send a girl with Duke Blake’s bloodline into his vicinity, then later announce that ‘Hayes Roche is actually your daughter’?”

“.......”

The Holy Knights’ commander, Erhin de Lohengrin, widened his eyes at the voice echoing through the forest.

It wasn’t the presence of a third party that shocked him.

No, what sent chills down his spine was that this unknown figure was speaking as if he had peered directly into the temple’s secrets.

And the voice didn’t stop there.

“What a laughable plan. Blake isn’t some fool who’d believe anything just because the temple presents so-called ‘evidence.’ He wouldn’t fall for it so easily. ...But, if the woman claiming to be his daughter happened to wield the power of a nightmare, then... the plan might actually work. The power of Mystique would have at least some influence on him.”

Step, step.

A man walked casually through the forest.

He wasn’t even wearing armor—only carrying a single sword strapped to his side and a battle-axe slung over his back.