"Forget it. I'll worry about it later."
After thinking seriously for a while, Herbert chose to stop thinking.
Avoidance is shameful—but it works.
Memories awakened. Oath of Purity. Reforming non-humans… too much happened, too little he could do. No point overthinking. One step at a time.
"Since it's come to this, I should eat first."
He had missed lunch while sorting his memories. Instead of the dining hall, he turned toward the kitchen.
This wasn't a duke's manor. No servant would save food for him. In the kitchen, there were smoked meat strips and black bread.
Terrible taste. Enough to fill the stomach.
It wasn't exactly by the rules, but considering the Albert family's generous donations over the years, no monk should make a fuss over this.
"Now that I think about it, if keeping the oath is torture for me, it should be the same for others. When they can't hold it in, how do they release the pressure?"
As he passed some ascetics, he nodded and quietly observed.
Worn clothes. Thin bodies. Silent.
Yet surprisingly few scars.
"So only a few choose self-harm to suppress desire… then what about the others?"
Thinking about this, Herbert stepped into the kitchen. Just as he was about to grab a solid long stick of bread, his pupils suddenly shrank.
For no reason, he twitched his nose and caught a faint but strangely familiar scent among the mixed smells.
Heather scent.
?
Is that right?
No… that's not right.
"…Hiss."
After a long silence and a lot of mental preparation, he finally turned toward the source.
In a bucket in the corner, a dead fish floated belly-up. Its mouth was wide open.
?
"…It's grass carp."
Dinner was clear-braised grass carp.
Herbert didn't touch a single bite.
He didn't even go to the dining hall.
He didn't want to be careless and eat something "special," but he also couldn't warn anyone. That would definitely catch the attention of some fish enthusiast.
No choice. I'll suffer a little. Let them enjoy this blessing.
Chewing dry bread alone in his room was already fine.
As he slowly gnawed on bread hard enough to kill someone if thrown, thinking about the tragedy in the kitchen corner, Herbert couldn't help humming.
"Heh. That guy too… fine, let the fish die with eyes open. But at least close its mouth after. That's just rude."
Too disrespectful.
But then again… how do you know a fish isn't happy? Maybe they were in love.
After letting his thoughts wander, Herbert calmed down.
He wasn't curious about the culprit. Nor did he want to report it to gain favor from the higher-ups. He wasn't that bored.
When it came to other people's unique tastes, he didn't understand—but he respected and wished them well.
However, after broadening his horizons, he realized something.
He might have discovered a bug.
No—a feature.
Monk and fish forbidden communication.
Does that count as breaking the oath?
More than enough!
Such outrageous behavior—forget someone under the Oath of Purity—even other oaths should suffer backlash.
People can't. At least, they shouldn't.
And yet, such blasphemy happened quietly in a corner. No one heard the grass carp's silent cry.
So far, the monastery was normal. No news of any monk suffering backlash.
"Was the news suppressed? Or… is it like how 'a priest having deep communication with a little boy' doesn't count as breaking the rule? As long as it's not male and female, it's fine?"
Grass carp ≠ breaking the oath?
Tsk. Even in another world, this cursed inequality is still chasing me.
"…Heh."
Though speechless, Herbert also felt excited.
Not because he had any special hobby for slim boys in knee-high white socks. That wasn't his thing.
But this discovery gave him inspiration.
Old habit from looking for loopholes in legal texts.
Hey. I have an idea.
If animals aren't counted… does that mean as long as the partner isn't human, it's fine?
This world had many races.
Elves, dryads, centaurs, merfolk, dragons, succubi… enough to make any non-human enthusiast ecstatic.
And as a warden, he had the perfect chance to test this guess.
But after the excitement came hesitation.
Holy Knights had existed for so many years. He didn't believe he was the first genius to notice this.
Human reproduction in this world was absurdly strong. Second only to green-skinned goblins. With most races, there was no reproductive barrier.
Though humans were wary of other races and called them monsters, because of wars and slave trade, mixed-blood children were not rare.
Half-elves, half-orcs, dragonkin, half-shifters, half-demons… in coastal legends there were even fish-headed humanoids.
…Wait.
Did I just uncover something strange?
These mixed descendants, rejected by both sides, might be fewer than major races, but enough to form their own groups. Some even built nations.
Logically, intermarriage loopholes should have been discovered long ago.
Sure enough, when Herbert opened the brick-thick holy code and searched, he easily found many recorded ways of breaking oaths.
Or rather, cases.
Hiss.
Brave warriors had already tried feeding themselves to demons. Each played harder than the last. Each died worse than the last.
Perhaps breaking the law knowingly made it worse. None of them ended well.
Either they died from backlash, or survived only to be hunted by the Church Inquisition and executed.
Not a single exception.
Very criminal.
Smells like criminal law.
Alright. That path is blocked.
Herbert could only temporarily put away his slightly dangerous cleverness.
People can't. The rules don't allow it.
Besides, even suppressed, the non-human ladies in the prison could crush him with one hand. Trying to sell his body might just get him killed.
Even being a gigolo here came with life risk. This world made no sense.
Sigh. Forget it.
"Control the big head over the little head. Getting stronger is the priority. No crooked tricks."
Right now, Herbert only hoped to gain enough strength through Holy Knight training. Enough to resist the punishment of breaking the oath one day—and break free to enjoy his life.
"Freedom."
He stood, stretched, and walked to the door, planning to breathe the sweet air of the free land outside.
But just as he was about to push the door open, the holy mark on the back of his hand burned with sharp heat. His body froze in place.
…
Cold ran down his spine.
On his first day at the monastery, he had been warned repeatedly: never go out after midnight.
He had never planned to wander at night.
Yet just now, he almost stepped outside without thinking, into the quiet night.
What was that…
Gulp.
He swallowed and slowly turned his head toward the mechanical clock.
The gilded hand had just completed a full circle.
Midnight had passed.
After a month of hard labor, it's finally born.
Thanks for your patience. Thanks—
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