The letter placed in the sunlight had become a daily quest for the nun; she would read it as soon as she woke up. She even felt that this would become a habit in the future.
She tore open the envelope. This time, she saw that the man had replied to every single point of her previous letter—replies so meticulous they touched upon every sentence. It was clear the man was reading her letters very carefully.
Soon, she reached the part about Abaddon Yama-Rakshasa.
"Abaddon Yama-Rakshasa?"
The nun muttered the unfamiliar name. She thought for a bit and looked through the nearby bookshelf, but even after searching all her books, she found nothing.
It sounded a bit like a compound word. Abaddon was a Hebrew word appearing in the Book of Job and Proverbs, referring to the "place of destruction" or the "realm of the dead." It represented different things in different eras—sometimes a place, sometimes an angel of destruction or the devil himself... whereas "Yama-Rakshasa" was a completely foreign term, sounding like something from Shenzhou.
Was it a typo?
The nun pondered blankly for a while without coming to a conclusion. In the end, she could only write down her own insights and stuff them into the envelope.
This sense of immorality from corresponding privately with someone who wasn't necessarily a good person—even if the faith in her heart resisted—still made her want to continue.
Besides... Mr. Ultraman wasn't necessarily a bad person. Although he carried dangerous weapons, he did not abuse violence. He also donated to the sanatorium, promised to cure the Honkai Sickness, offered to take the children out to play, and had a very pleasant voice...
Thinking this far, the nun suddenly realized her view of the man had become subjective, so she immediately stopped her stray thoughts.
Strange. We haven't known each other for long, so why does it always feel like I've known Mr. Ultraman for ages?
The nun looked toward the windowsill. Someone had carefully closed it before leaving so the cold wind wouldn't blow in. She smiled slightly.
Perhaps it's because, unlike others, he isn't always hiding something?
...
After dropping her letter in the mailbox, the nun headed toward the sanatorium's backyard. Today was her weekly Bible reading session with the children. She didn't intend to make the children accept her faith; she merely used the Bible to teach them literacy. This, too, could be considered in line with God's will.
She reached the door and was about to push open the wooden gate when she heard a cool, indifferent voice inside.
"Open your books to page two. Look at the table of contents first. I'll call someone to read the first paragraph."
Eh? That voice is...
The nun crept to the window and saw the man wearing the Ultraman mask holding up a "teaching manual," instructing the dozen or so children sitting below to open their "textbooks." He paced among the children like a valiant teacher, checking to see if they had opened their books.
"Heh, I was wondering where he went in the middle of the night instead of sleeping. Turns out he went to photocopy books."
The nun turned her head to see Kalpas standing at another window with his arms crossed. Noticing her gaze, he gave a cold snort and turned to walk away: "I'm going to work. Tell him he doesn't need to come."
He left briskly and decisively, as if afraid the nun might try to make him stay.
The nun looked at the man in astonishment. Even when she asked these children to study, she couldn't make them this well-behaved. It was as if children and textbooks were naturally in conflict; no matter how good a child was, they would resist.
But this time, she didn't see a single child being noisy. Every one of them was reading the "textbook" in their hands with great interest, even craning their necks in anticipation of being called on by the man to read.
He can teach too?
The nun watched silently, a serene smile unknowingly gracing her face.
"Alright, Daniela, stand up and read the first paragraph."
"Yes, Teacher Ultraman!"
Daniela stood up excitedly. She couldn't wait to hold up her "textbook" and, under the nun's gratified gaze, read aloud at the top of her lungs—
"What we call 'dating' is a war. Don't think that just because fairy tales always have happy endings for princes and princesses, love is beautiful, noble, and something to yearn for. If you think that, you are wrong! In reality, before meeting the princess, the prince spent every night in revelry with a dozen succubi, and the princess entered and exited goblin caves every day!"
The nun's smile froze.
"Understood? Whether in body or soul, if you want to date, you must have the resolve to be entirely polluted until you're filthier than rat droppings in a sewer!"
The corner of her mouth twitched. Her eyes gradually shifted from their original tenderness to an indescribable... coldness.
Meanwhile, Daniela, unaware of the situation, continued to read with her extensive vocabulary. Her performance was more soul-stirring and emotionally invested than ever before, as if at this moment, she had resonated with the book's author!
"As the saying goes, 'all is fair in war.' Since love is war, any means used is correct! Remember, love is not r-pe! Love is about making the other person acknowledge from the depths of their soul that they love you—whether you use deception or coaxing, whether it's a financial offensive or social manipulation!"
"Create a sense of dependency! Create a sense of security! If you have money, you must abuse it! If you can lie, you must make the other person believe you are the best person in the world!"
"If your love interest is troubled by housework, then use 200% speed and earnestness to clean every corner before she gets home!"
"If she thinks you aren't obedient enough, then listen to her every word with all your heart—but you must maintain your own judgment, because not everyone likes a string-pulled puppet!"
"If she thinks you're a mischievous troublemaker, then switch your persona. From this day forward, be a 'good boy.' That is called the 'gap moe'!"
As Daniela's reading grew louder and louder, the nun's gaze grew colder and colder. The man standing at the front had already discovered her and began winking at Daniela. But how could anyone tell what "look" those bean-sized eyes on the mask were giving? So, he started making frantic hand gestures.
But Daniela was completely immersed and didn't see the man's movements at all, nor did she notice the nun's gaze that carried a certain heavy meaning.
By now, the other children had also noticed the man's prompts. They turned their heads and, in unison, shuddered. One by one, they quieted down as if sitting on needles.
"Remember! Make the other person feel you are the best, even if you are just a mask-wearing man who isn't good-looking, doesn't speak well, and is a black-bellied bastard! — Dedicated performance by Ultraman!"
After Daniela finished reading, she bowed to the silent room.
Finding that no one responded to her, she looked at the man—who was now standing perfectly upright at attention—and then looked in the direction he was staring.
She locked eyes with a pair of eyes that felt like falling into an ice cellar.