Time rewound to one hour earlier.
Regarding the event that was likely to occur tonight, Greg was naturally far from unprepared.
Quite the contrary: he had planned for this long in advance. Leaving the dungeon camp early, he had quietly snuck over to the vicinity of the girls' dormitory area. There, he lay in wait in a relatively densely vegetated corner where he could observe a specific section of the dormitory building without being easily spotted.
The night wind was slightly cool, carrying the fresh scent of greenery from the academy's gardens.
In the distance, the dormitory building's lights were sparse. Most windows had gone dark, with only a few still spilling light. The faint sounds of late-sleeping students laughing or conversing drifted periodically on the night wind.
With his back pressed against a thick ornamental tree, Greg's figure blended almost entirely into the shadows of the trunk. His amber eyes locked sharply onto his target's direction, like a nocturnal hunter waiting for the opportune moment.
Though he didn't know exactly where Associate Professor Audrey was hiding or what final preparations she was making before the event officially began, Greg knew her pattern of action tonight inside out based on the script:
After Silvia fell sound asleep, she would use low-tier wind magic to sneak silently through her dormitory window from the outside, render Silvia unconscious with a drug, and then carry her off.
As for why Greg preferred to painstakingly lie in wait now rather than take a more efficient approach—
Such as finding Associate Professor Audrey during the day, directly overpowering her, and making her abandon her plan?
There was, of course, a reason Greg didn't execute that plan.
Attacking an associate professor of the academy for no apparent reason—even if she harbored malicious intentions—would completely change the nature of his actions if he struck first before the crime was committed and without concrete evidence.
He would go from an intervener stopping a crime to a villain maliciously attacking a faculty member.
Given his current already infamous reputation, claiming that an associate professor planned to kidnap a student?
Hardly anyone would believe him. Instead, it would only confirm his image as a lunatic attempting to slander a teacher.
That would only make his survival conditions in this world even worse, inviting pursuit by both the academy and kingdom law.
Therefore, to justify his intervention, he had to wait for Professor Audrey to act.
Only when the criminal act was in progress would his intervention carry an indisputable justification.
And according to Greg's concept, the best time to strike was the exact moment Professor Audrey set foot on Silvia's dormitory windowsill and prepared to carry out the kidnapping.
At that point, Audrey's criminal intent and actions would be clear, while Silvia would not yet have suffered any substantial harm.
Greg could strike swiftly, subdue Audrey, and hand her straight over to the academy's Enforcement Squad.
This way, the incident could be resolved within a minimal scope—Silvia wouldn't experience the terror and unknown risks of being kidnapped, the matter wouldn't escalate out of control, and the disturbance to the storyline would be kept to a minimum.
The logic of the plan was clear, the steps defined, and the risks controllable.
Now, he only needed to stay in this hidden corner, wait patiently for the target to appear, and then—like a precise clockwork gear—mesh in at the exact right moment to reap the results.
However...
"My other half."
An ethereal voice suddenly sounded in Greg's mind, carrying a touch of bored inquisitiveness:
"Today, starting from this morning, thy mood seems... not particularly divine? Thy brow hath been furrowed, and thy aura somewhat restless. Could it be that... today is that... special time of the month that occurs a few times for thee male creatures?"
Greg was focusing intently on the dormitory building when his lips twitched at her words, nearly breaking his composure.
"What kind of nonsense is that! Men don't have a special time of the month! That's a physiological phenomenon exclusive to women, alright?! You uneducated cat!"
"Oh? They do not?"
Nightmare's voice carried a hint of genuine confusion. The head of a black cat emerged leisurely from the shadow at Greg's feet, its dark green eyes glimmering faint light in the darkness. It tilted its head, seeming to recall quite seriously:
"Yet I recall that long ago, whilst eavesdropping on the private chatter of certain believers, they mentioned that if male creatures abstain for a long period from... well, that kind of exchange and release of the harmonious exchange of life, their bodies accumulate pressure. In severe cases, it might even cause their lower halves to... 'bang' and explode??"
"...Oh, so that's what you meant."
Greg caught on as well.
Yet he felt that explanation wasn't quite accurate either. For an elite captain, after all, there were no special days—they could take off whenever and wherever they wished.
But just as he was about to explain, Greg suddenly realized something.
He jerked his head down, looking at the black cat at his feet that was currently licking its paws with elegance, a glint of amusement and mischief flashing in his amber eyes.
"Wait... eavesdropping on your believers' private chatter?"
Greg deliberately dragged out his tone, a subtle "I get it now" smile spreading across his face:
"So all this rich knowledge of yours was gained through eavesdropping? Here I thought that as the Goddess of Night, you already knew these mysteries of life like the back of your hand. Turns out you're just a zero-experience amateur relying entirely on hearsay for theoretical knowledge?"
He deliberately emphasized "zero-experience amateur," harboring a mischievous expectation to see if this goddess, who usually acted high and mighty, would show any sign of embarrassment or flustered annoyance.
However, Greg had clearly underestimated the thickness of a certain goddess's skin.
Nightmare stopped licking her paw and raised her head, her dark green eyes meeting Greg's teasing gaze without hesitation. She even symbolically puffed out her fluffy cat chest, responding in that ethereal, entirely righteous voice:
"To learn and explore domains and knowledge hitherto unknown to oneself, through whatever proper means, is never something worthy of shame. So it is for mortals, and so it is for us deities. Curiosity is one of the driving forces that propels all things forward."
Greg: "..."
Dressing up dirty talk in such an elevated way... I'm genuinely impressed!
He felt like he had punched cotton—no, titanium alloy armor!
"Don't tell me you don't even have the concept of shame?!"
"Shame?"
Nightmare flicked her tail, her tone nonchalant:
"That thing can neither fill one's belly nor enhance power, and at times it even becomes a shackle on action. Of what use is it to me?"
Greg's eyes widened: That makes so damn much sense!
Rate on N.U.
