30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 138

"Allow me to first offer my apologies. I am deeply sorry for what has transpired."

“Hmm, could you at least not bow your head? It’s making me feel like the villain here.”

Ihan looked awkwardly at the elderly priest bowing low to him. Receiving such a heartfelt apology from someone as venerable as this man—116 years old, no less—only made Ihan feel guilty.

He tried to help the priest stand, but the elder remained steadfast.

"What does age have to do with wrongdoing? If anything, it is the duty of an elder to set an example by offering a proper apology."

“...You’re truly a respectable elder,” Ihan admitted.

It struck Ihan that this priest was one of the few genuinely principled adults he had ever encountered. He found himself feeling a surprising sense of respect.

"I only put in the effort because I’d already been paid. From what I’ve heard, that holy water you provided—the highest-grade variety—takes three years to make, doesn’t it? It’s worth a fortune too."

To compare it in martial arts terms, the highest-grade holy water was akin to the Great Restoration Pill of Shaolin or Gongqing Elixir.

It wasn’t just priceless; it was a once-in-a-lifetime treasure that could purge diseases and ensure lifelong health. Equivalent to the 99.99% rarity of troll’s lifeblood, it was essentially another life for a knight.

The payment had been almost excessive for the task, and Ihan considered the trade more than fair.

"Honestly, for dealing with those greenhorns, the payment was way too much. I’d have done it for a few gold coins."

“They are considered valuable combat personnel within the temple, you know. Haha.”

“...Those guys?”

Ihan’s skepticism was evident.

"I’ve never seen idiots as hopeless as them."

With one exception, the rest were utterly useless.

The sharpness of Ihan’s critique was merciless.

Meanwhile, the so-called “hopeless idiots” lay writhing on the ground, groaning and whimpering in misery.

“Ugh...”

“P-please just kill me...”

“Ugh...”

The only one enduring the pain with any semblance of composure was the red-haired priest, Pierre, who kept his eyes shut despite the agony.

Raphael’s gaze turned sorrowful as he observed Pierre.

"I assume you’ve heard about the heresy accusations leveled against you?"

“That nonsense?”

“It is a shameful situation.”

“It’s terrifying. You perform well, and you get accused. Almost got killed too. How can anyone live in such fear?”

“...It is the temple’s failure.”

“Hmm...”

Ihan recalled the priest’s words from three days ago, accusing him of heresy.

"If I remember, the claim was that I was suspicious because I performed too well, too suddenly?"

“That was merely the official explanation.”

“?”

“The real reason the Inquisition declared you a heretic is that certain high-ranking clergy and cardinals within the temple believe you’ve caused them harm—an absurd delusion.”

“...What?”

The absurdity left Ihan at a loss for words.

Raphael, for the first time, sighed deeply—a rare display from someone so composed.

"It may sound like an excuse, but I only became fully aware of the heresy accusations two days ago. Until then, I only noticed the Inquisition’s suspicious movements targeting you, so I intervened."

“You mean, you’ve been protecting me?”

Ihan was both puzzled and astonished.

If Raphael’s words were true, it meant he had willingly stepped in as Ihan’s shield.

"Why?"

Why would someone go against the temple’s will to protect him—a complete stranger?

Raphael’s response was resolute:

"Isn’t it obvious? If someone is falsely accused, isn’t it natural to help them? Even with this frail body, I had to act."

“......”

"Of course, I couldn’t provide significant assistance. My feeble frame failed to stop the Inquisitors, and for that, I am deeply sorry. Even though I gave you holy water, it hardly compares to the suffering you endured. Against the harm you nearly faced, my compensation is nothing more than a cheap consolation."

“...I’m satisfied, though.”

"Are you simply being considerate of me?"

“......”

"Even though they knew the tunnel was a true den of heretics?"

“...They would have known.”

"And yet they’re blaming me?"

“......”

"Is... is this real?"

“...Even with two mouths, I have no excuse to offer.”

“Wow... Seriously?”

“......”

"I’m speechless. I’m actually dumbfounded right now."

Ihan was genuinely stunned.

Sure, losing assets would make anyone angry, and lashing out at the cause of those losses wasn’t unheard of.

But—

"The temple is doing this?"

In a world where gods were real, and priests claimed to serve them?

"Is this some kind of prank?"

The absurdity of it all made Ihan slap his forehead—hard.

It hurt.

Through history lessons, he had learned how horrifying the corruption of religion could be.

But reading about it and experiencing it firsthand were entirely different matters.

The disgust and pettiness of it all hit him like a cold slap to the back of the head.

"Wow, no wonder people warned me about the temple."

He recalled the warnings from his two odd companions: