Arknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Synchronized SwimmingYou're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

Lucian always considered himself a man of absolute, unblemished purity.

Logically speaking, as the former Holy Son of Laterano, how could he be anything else? The highest religious echelons of Laterano were exclusively populated by women, meaning Lucian had grown up submerged in a sea of female clerics. Every time he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of beautiful older Sankta sisters. With their pristine white wings and radiant halos, they looked so impossibly sacred that it gave him an overwhelming, visceral urge to thoroughly corrupt them.

He could have easily had noble priestesses warming his sheets. Hell, he could have lined them up in his bed to practice synchronized swimming if he asked. Yet, he had restrained himself! He had endured those urges with the stoicism of a saint!

But the universe offered no rewards for good behavior. In the end, the chastity he had fiercely guarded for fifteen years was callously stolen by a certain scumbag of a woman who took her pleasure and vanished into the night.

Mostima. Oh, Mostima…

For that woman alone, Lucian was willing to tear apart the very foundations of Terra. He would drag her back and make her understand that his fifteen years of endurance were no less agonizing than hers. She had acted recklessly to get her fleeting thrill, but he hadn’t gotten his money’s worth at all! He was going to wring every last drop of what she had taken right back out of her.

“So, that’s how it is,” Lucian murmured, his voice low. “Angelina, do you happen to know a horned Sankta named Mostima?”

He stared at the Volpo girl with such fervent, burning intensity that Angelina scarcely dared to breathe, her head shaking frantically from side to side.

It was the dead of night. The two of them were currently holding a secret meeting in the dim light of the kitchen.

Exusiai, having completely burned out her boundless energy messing around with Texas, had been carried back to her room by Lucian and was now dead to the world. Texas, meanwhile, had been caught red-handed secretly enjoying Lucian’s affection; her Lupo ears had flushed a brilliant, burning red before she bolted, locking herself in her room and refusing to come out.

That left Angelina to share a room with Croissant. Unfortunately, the Defender’s sleeping habits were nothing short of a natural disaster. Croissant had treated Angelina like a giant plush toy, trapping her in a suffocating bear hug and drooling all over her chest, making sleep entirely impossible.

When Lucian—still fondly reminiscing about the soft texture of Texas’s fluffy tail—couldn’t sleep and wandered out for a glass of water, he bumped into Angelina sneaking out of her room. After she bashfully explained her predicament, Lucian’s gaze had naturally drifted down to linger on the Volpo girl’s rather well-developed chest. Blushing furiously, the high schooler had immediately slapped her hands over his eyes.

Now, both wide awake, they sat at the kitchen island.

Angelina cradled a mug of hot milk, her fluffy tail curling nervously around her legs. “I haven’t heard of a horned Sankta…” she said, her voice timid. “Ah, but I’ve only been a messenger for half a year, and mostly just around Siracusa. Maybe I’m just too inexperienced. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Mr. Lucian…”

Lucian blinked, adopting a look of perfect innocence. “Angelina, do I really look that old to you?”

As the Volpo tilted her head in confusion, he chuckled. “I’m already calling you Angelina, just like Croissant does, so you can drop the formalities. Just call me Lucian. You probably won’t believe this, but Croissant is actually older than me. I’m the younger one.”

“Eh?! Eeeeeh?! Is that true?!” Angelina gasped, her amber eyes flying wide.

She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, freezing in place until the muffled, rhythmic snores of Croissant echoing through the wall assured her she hadn’t woken anyone.

She let out a long breath, her fox ears drooping apologetically. “I’m so sorry! It’s just that you look so mature, I assumed… Ah, wait, I’m not saying you look old! Not at all! You actually look very young and handsome! I even thought earlier that you have such a cute baby face… Ah, no, I don’t mean you lack dignity! Oh no, I’m still calling you Mr. Lucian!”

“Angelina, Angelina, pace yourself,” Lucian said, highly amused by the flustered little fox. “Come on, follow my lead. Inhale… inhale… exhale…”

This easily startled Volpo was undeniably adorable; looking at her, Lucian almost felt the sudden urge to raise a daughter. Angelina, having been preemptively taught the Lamaze breathing technique by Lucian just now, followed his instructions earnestly and finally managed to settle her racing heart.and support the real translator.Read at elysianreads.com This is a stolen translation. You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.

She offered a shy, innocent smile. “Then… just Lucian. Is that okay? Hehe, it feels a little strange. I always looked up to you as an older brother figure, but we’re actually around the same age?”

“Exactly. So just treat me as an equal. You can talk to me about anything.” Lucian leaned against the counter, swirling his glass of water. “Tell me a bit about yourself. Your full name is Anshin’in Angelina, right? That’s a pretty rare surname. Are you from Higashi?”

Angelina’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “That’s amazing! How did you know?”

Lucian puffed out his chest, looking rather pleased with himself. “I have my ways. I’ve already pulled some strings to catch that swindler who cheated you out of your money. Those fake contract documents you signed have been reduced to ash.”

The Slums of Lungmen were a chaotic, lawless melting pot where scams were pulled every minute of the day, but absolutely nothing escaped the notice of the Rat King. When in trouble, find Old Lin. Lucian had simply made a single phone call, and Old Lin—who had a massive soft spot for the young man—immediately dispatched his people to apprehend the street rat preying on newcomers.

Having connections was a beautiful thing, and the pragmatic Lucian was never shy about using them.

Angelina gazed at him with pure, unadulterated admiration, looking at him as if he were a literal angel descended from Laterano. “My mother is from Higashi, she gave me that name! But most people around here find ‘Anshin’in’ a bit of a tongue-twister, so I usually just introduce myself as Angelina.”

“Ho? Have you ever been to Higashi, then?”

The Volpo shook her head, a wistful smile on her lips. “Not yet. When I first became a messenger, I wondered if I’d finally get the chance to visit… But crossing the wastelands alone is so much harder than I ever imagined. You have to prep your gear, map out safe routes, and study meteorology just to avoid Catastrophes and Originium beasts… I’m still struggling to adapt to the basic messenger routes, let alone a cross-continental journey to Higashi.”

She let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle.

If not for the tragic accident that infected her with Oripathy, Angelina would have remained an entirely ordinary high school girl. She would have spent her days collecting cute trinkets, reading trendy romance novels, secretly listening to retro pop songs, and crying her eyes out over vintage romance movies with a whole box of tissues in her lap.

If karma truly existed in this world, a sweet girl like Angelina had done absolutely nothing to deserve such a cruel fate. But there was an old proverb in Yan: Heaven and Earth are unkind; they treat all creation as straw dogs.

Life rarely followed the rules of fairness. Angelina had contracted Oripathy through sheer, blind bad luck, and in an instant, her entire world had been stripped away.

Her pale fingers traced the rim of her ceramic mug. “Even though Siracusa is full of dangerous people like the Mafia families,” she murmured softly, “my parents and my friends are all just ordinary people. If I stayed after becoming Infected… if I tried to keep it a secret, I would only end up hurting them.”

Lucian, a man whose unique constitution made it physically impossible for him to contract Oripathy, simply listened in quiet understanding.

Even in a ruthless nation like Siracusa, where organized crime ruled the streets, society held zero tolerance for the Infected. Or rather, it was precisely because the Mafia families were locked in endless, bloody feuds of assassination and sabotage that they were so deeply paranoid about the disease.

Oripathy couldn’t be cured, but it could be weaponized with terrifying ease. An Infected didn’t even need a blade to ruin a healthy person’s life; a simple scratch from the active Originium crystals protruding from their skin was enough to guarantee transmission.

Because the cost of malicious infection was so horrifyingly low, the Infected were subjected to brutal, systemic discrimination across all of Terra. It was a cruel, helpless reality.

[Rhodes’s Note: “Heaven and Earth are unkind; they treat all creation as straw dogs” is a famous philosophical quote from Laozi’s Tao Te Ching. It means that nature is entirely impartial and indifferent to human suffering; it does not play favorites, treating everything equally like the disposable straw dogs used in ancient sacrifices.]You're reading this on the wrong site. This chapter was translated by Elysian Reads and posted for free at elysianreads.com — if you're seeing it anywhere else, it was copied without permission. Read it at the source so the people who actually did the work get the credit.