The first thing Felix noticed was how soft Mostima felt.

She carried a faint, pleasant fragrance—familiar enough to make his head feel slightly light, almost like being tipsy.

Her smile was the same as the day she’d seen him off: elegant, serene, as if untouched by time. Her sapphire-blue eyes were calm, unreadable, betraying no hint of emotion. One hand rested on the plating of his mechanical armor as she sat astride his lap, poised like a knight claiming her seat.

“Long time no see,” Felix said at last, breaking the silence.

“Mm… it has been a while, hasn’t it?” Mostima’s lips curved faintly. “You’ve gotten stronger… taller too. Your face, though—rougher now. Not as smooth as before.”

As she spoke, she brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek. Her touch was warm and soft against his skin.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” he protested.

“That’s just like a boy—never caring about such things.” She gave a quiet laugh. “You must have had it hard while you were away. I’ve missed you.”

It was a quiet, casual detonation—a confession dropped without warning. She leaned forward, wrapping him in a light embrace, resting her head against his chest. For a moment she simply listened to the steady beat of his heart, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

“Did you miss me?”

“…Yeah. I did.”

“Oh? Really? Then I suppose I’ll believe you.”

She chuckled softly and stayed pressed against his side, unconcerned by the closeness.

“I’d planned to come back before your coming-of-age,” He said, “since there’s something I wanted to give you myself.”

“Ah… so after all this time, you think I’d be interested in things other than firearms?”

“A promise is a promise,” he replied.

After all, leaving a task unchecked in the mission list was simply unbearable.

The two of them shifted to sit properly. Mostima tilted her head, letting it rest lightly on his shoulder, soaking in the rare quiet of the moment.

“Is work at the Notarial Hall tiring?”

“It’s… manageable. But we’ve been getting busier—more reliable too, I guess. Most recent jobs have been tied to Kazdel.” She idly took his hand, toying with his fingers—pressing his palm here, tracing along his knuckles there—as she spoke. “The Kazdel civil war has dragged on for years. Some stray Sarkaz, short on food, have turned to robbing Sankta trade convoys. Lately, reconnaissance, protection, and intelligence work have been our main focus.”

“You seem pretty lively for someone so ‘busy.'” Felix glanced sideways at her. She met his eyes with a small smile and a slow wink.

“That’s because there are plenty of us in the Notarial Hall,” she said. “And our squad’s performance has been especially good.”

Still holding his hand, she rose to her feet.

“Felix, you don’t seem very attuned to the Sankta’s empathy.”

He gave a slight nod. Truthfully, he’d heard players say the Sankta’s ’empathy’ wasn’t all that moving—at most, it let you sense another’s mood. It wasn’t some hive-mind that could tell you exactly what the other person was thinking.

As an NPC, he’d spent very little time in the Holy City, and had almost no experience with it himself. In the past, growing up without parents, he’d been solitary by nature, with little interest in such things.

The grand lines he sometimes spouted—about using empathy to feel the joy of the Sankta people—were just empty words to placate others. In truth, he’d never once truly experienced what the emotional link of the Sankta race was supposed to feel like.

Was it like the divine link of god with their people?

“I see,” Mostima said softly. “So, you can’t feel my mood right now at all?”

Felix tried to stir his emotions, to grasp the Sankta’s empathy, but it was useless. It was like waking up in another world with wings on your back, yet having no idea how to use them.

“In that case… you might want to ask one of the veterans at the Notarial Hall. But that’s for later.”

She leaned forward slightly. “My feelings—you should be able to sense them now.”

Brushing her hair back from her ear, Mostima stepped into the sunlight streaming through the room. Her sapphire eyes locked onto his, holding them without wavering. A small smile tugged at her lips before she closed the distance, offering the first kiss she had kept to herself for twenty years.

It felt at once like an instant and an eternity. When she finally pulled away, she stretched lazily, clearly satisfied, while Felix sat frozen in place. Her amused laugh rang out, and she playfully ran her blue tongue over her lips.

“Well? Did you feel it?”

She stifled a yawn. “By the way, I’ve got a task later today. Not sure if I’ll make it back to Laterano tonight—we’ll see. The others want to see you too.”

“That’s that. Keep in touch. Bye~”

Mostima had arrived openly, and she left just as openly.

The moment the door shut, Felix snapped back to himself. Had he been so tired he hallucinated? And why hadn’t the system thrown up a warning about NPC interaction?

No, wait—that wasn’t the point.

He buried his face in his hands. How had it come to this? He’d been single for… what, forty years across two lives? A grand master of celibacy. If there were a ranking system for it, he’d be ready to challenge the last wielder of his staff, the Witch King, to see who was truly Terra’s number one grand caster.

Even so, he’d have to be blind not to understand Mostima’s feelings now. Back in his first life, he’d dreamed of sweet romance in college, but stayed single until graduation. He’d watched his share of anime and movies, longing for childhood friends, distant cousins, or the transfer student beauty—but that was all fiction. And Felix was a long-time denizen of the two-dimensional world.

Coming to Terra as an NPC, romance was the last thing on his mind. His priority was survival in this shattered, dangerous land. He wasn’t some martial arts protagonist who’d trained in emotionless asceticism; he had desires too. But before satisfying any of them, he needed strength—enough strength to live.

At least for now, he had no intention of thinking about such matters. He even deliberately ignored the differences between men and women, keeping all relationships at most to the level of trusted companions. Anything more was too soon. Without power, without the means to stand firmly on Terra, what could he rely on when disaster struck? How could he protect himself—and the people closest to him?

He couldn’t just hole up in Laterano’s Holy City and ignore the world outside, could he?

Alright, Felix wasn’t some hopeless blockhead who only knew how to slay dragons, nor had he lost anyone on a rainy night under an overpass. After a single kiss, he understood everything.

He had always viewed Mostima as a partner—someone he could bring into his future ventures, building a company together and watching it thrive. But now, it seemed she was aiming to become the lady of the house instead.

That thought made him re-evaluate the women around him. Degenbrecher and Carnelian? Their relationship hadn’t crossed into romance. Muelsyse… when he recalled her past behavior, the moments of vulnerability she’d shown him, the way she smiled in his presence, he fell silent. That seemed like a pretty clear sign, didn’t it?

As for the little ones—sure, their favorability was nearly maxed out, but that was all familial. Purely familial.

Felix exhaled deeply. He wasn’t the kind of man to wallow, nor did he pretend to be some spotless gentleman. On this land where people devoured each other to survive, you had to bare your bloody fangs to live.

Fine. In that case, he’d just let things take their natural course. It wasn’t in him to hurt the girls who’d set their hearts on him.

He rose to his feet, mulling over the fact that nobles in Columbia and Victoria often kept dozens of wives and concubines. Sir Bolton alone had seven or eight. He might not have status now, but in the future… who knew?

Before his ambitions could fully ignite, Felix changed into casual clothes and headed for the Notarial Hall. It was time to deliver his work report.

His audience was the same as before—Ers, the old man who seemed even more spirited than he had years ago, his eyes bright with wisdom. When he saw Felix, a faint smile appeared on his face.

Felix greeted him with a formal bow, then took a seat and began recounting the intelligence he had gathered during his years abroad. Much of it was about past events, but strung together, those events formed a continuous chain of history—and with them, one could even make educated guesses about the future.

That was the value of intelligence.

Most of what Felix reported was military in nature, tying into his interest in craftsmanship—mainly the weapons, tools, and equipment of various nations. Naturally, that also touched on the political forces at play. Laterano might have no ambitions of conquest, no desire to bring all lands under its banner, but according to the Pope himself, the Holy See could not remain detached forever.

“Thank you for your report, Felix Lanshem. You’ve done well,” Ers said, closing the document in his hands. An hour of debriefing had left him a little tired, and he rose to pour them both cups of fragrant red tea. “Your contributions speak for themselves. Though you’ve never carried out a single courier assignment, you’ve used that title to gather invaluable information for Laterano. For the Notarial Hall and the Holy See, that is an exceptional service.”

His tone carried a trace of amusement. “I’ve heard Andoain wants to work with you. If you’re tired of roaming the world for intelligence, you could return to Laterano and serve within the Hall. The work would be… slightly different, but I’m sure you could handle it.”

“…If I wanted to lead a team like Andoain, what requirements would I need to meet?”

“Oh?” Ers’s interest was piqued. A faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Felix, your achievements—your contributions—are more than enough to move you into the upper ranks of the Notarial Hall. Meeting with the Holy See in the future would not be out of the question. But know this: the Sankta do as they will, and if you wish to be a captain, you must bear the responsibility—whether within Laterano’s borders or beyond them.”

Felix pressed his palms together, paused for a moment, and said,

“I believe I’m ready. And I’ll keep sending Laterano all kinds of information—without pause.”

Ers burst out laughing. “So, you still can’t sit still, huh? Alright then. I’ll show you the Notarial Hall’s internal roster. If you see anyone you’re satisfied with, just tell me—I’ll handle the persuasion.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Felix quickly expressed his gratitude. Ers gave a small chuckle, and after they finished their tea, the old man rose and headed to the Holy See to deliver his own report. Felix, meanwhile, now had a personnel list in hand.

The idea of creating a Laterano squad—like Andoain’s—wasn’t new to him.

When he started his own venture, “Tomorrow’s Development,” he had no intention of hiding it from Laterano. He simply didn’t want to accept Laterano’s financial aid; he didn’t want the company stained by the colors of any nation or power. When people thought of “Tomorrow’s Development,” they should think of Felix—not of Laterano. Just like how players thought of Blacksteel International not as some legendary mercenary group, but… Blackstocking International. Ahem.

That said, he did need to stay visible to the upper echelons. He never planned to sever ties with Laterano completely—his race and identity guaranteed a certain advantage in future cooperation, business, and intelligence exchange. That was the benefit of his birth.

If he’d been Ursus, or a Victorian… forget it. His company would have been devoured by the nobility before it even got off the ground. The fate of Avdotya was proof enough—he had no intention of tangling with nobles or states.

Laterano was different. Laterano had no real political infighting—at least not openly. While opinions and methods varied, every Sankta shared the same desire: to create a better, greater Laterano.

—

That afternoon, Felix sat on a bench outside the Notarial Hall, flipping through the personnel files. Roughly two-thirds were Sankta within the Hall itself; the rest were Liberi from Laterano’s Guard Corps.

He spotted a few familiar names, and his golden eyes narrowed slightly.

“Patia…”

“Plume…”

He had seen them before, back in a church in town. Plume, in particular, had been a Rhodes Island staff member in his previous life—definitely worth trying to recruit.

“Hm… Spuria. Specializes in engineering and mechanics. Developed drones, remote-detonation devices…”

A glint flickered in his gaze. A Sankta interested in engineering and mechanics? She might be worth approaching.

His squad currently had four members—room for one more. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The last spot… he could think about it once he got home. No, wait—tonight he had dinner plans at the inn with them.

That thought made him stand up—only to notice, a short distance away, a girl with cropped red hair stealing glances at him. The moment she realized he’d caught her, she darted behind a stone pillar like she’d just seen a ghost.

“Am I really that scary to you, Lemuel?”

“Wah!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep