Iron Blooded Hound

"Um, excuse me..."

Sinclair appeared out of nowhere and turned to Vikir with awkward respect.

As Vikir looked at her, wondering what was going on, Sinclair stammered at her.

"Um, Mr. Vikil, are you also registered for regular volunteer work here?"

"Um, then why are you here...?" I came here because of a mistake. . "

"...Ah."

Sinclair nodded at Vikiel's short answer.

"Well, I'm going to do community service on a regular basis. I have to do it to earn merit points, but I like it because I feel good and successful when I help the less fortunate. That's what I'm doing...''

``Okay.''

Vikiel wasn't really interested in Sinclair's personal life, but he nodded once and turned to leave.

But Sinclair followed Vikiel closely and continued talking.

``By the way, it's a coincidence that we both volunteer at the same place.''

``Yes.''

``Actually, I saw you sign up to volunteer last week. I didn't realize it.

``I understand.''

``You can go to Vikir by...''

Even though Vikir kept giving short answers, Nevertheless, Sinclair chuckled, not understanding what was so funny about it. I answer.

Vikir interrupts Sinclair's story.

"Don't worry, you look about the same age as me."

"Ah, actually, I'm one year younger than Mr. Vikir."

"That doesn't matter." When he nodded, Sinclair's expression brightened even more.

"Then I'll make it easy for you!" Let's keep it simple next time."

Vikir thought he had finished the conversation calmly enough and left the room.

For cleaning mops.

Sinclair now followed closely behind him.

While Vikiel went into the men's room to wash his mop, Sinclair stood at the entrance to the men's room and glared at him.

``Thank God she didn't follow me into the men's room.''

Sinclair waited patiently in the doorway until Vikir had finished mopping, then slid in next to him.

"Look! When I submitted the volunteer form on my day off, I thought I was just trying to record a service credit."

"I was forced to submit it. There were so many mistakes.

"I see. I knew you were a good student, so I thought it must mean something."

Sinclair continued to stare at Vikir as he spoke.

Vikir said as he let out a slight sigh.

``I'm in a hurry. So if you have anything you want to ask, please ask quickly.''

``Oh! Are you okay?''

Sinclair asked excitedly as he walked next to Vikiel. .

She started blurting out her question that she really wanted to ask.

``How do you study?''

``How many hours a day do you study?''

``How much time do you spend practicing and reviewing?''

``The magical genealogy that came out this time. Did you understand the introductory book?''

``What are you majoring in in Cold Lessons?'' Swordsmanship, oh, did the cold-class swordsmanship teacher teach you well?

"I got all the questions correct in the last cold class essay. I only got one question wrong. How did you solve it? That was beyond the level of a bachelor's degree.''

``Oh, by the way, have you ever seen the topic ``Ethics of Dissection'' in the lecture notes for Animal Biology A? What do you think about the controversy surrounding the solution?

``Well, again...oh, I have so many questions, but when the time comes, I can't think of any more.''

``Then,'' how do you know so much? ? Did you receive any initial training?"

"You took it, right? Wow, that's amazing. So, what school did you go to before entering the academy?"

"I don't know if I should ask that, but it offends me. Then you don't need to answer. I hear you are a citizen, but which region are you from?"

"Oh, but do you have bad eyesight?" These glasses really make you look taller. Ah, it's not as expensive as I thought, so why glasses?"

"Is the hairstyle what you want?" Oh, just let it grow. Do you ever cut your bangs or let them fall?

.

.

.

Most of the questions were related to studying.

Vikir answered dryly, but he continued with his work, cleaning the hallways, doing the laundry, and taking out the trash.

Sinclair followed closely behind him and really wanted to help.

Once the mission was completed, Sinclair rode on his back and searched the company, offering Vikir a bottle of milk.

``Here, drink this while you work!''

``...''

Vikil picked up the bottle and looked down at Sinclair for a moment.

"...?"

Sinclair looked up at Vikiel again, expressionless.

Vikil realized that if he left her alone, he would follow her all day and cause trouble for her, so he disappeared.

"I'm going to go get a drink. Goodbye.''

``Oh, where are you going? Let me help you!''

``To the bathroom.''

Sinclair's face immediately turned bright red as he realized what Vikiel had said.

"Ah, ah, this is a little hard to help, so please go ahead and leave."

Sinclair said, standing against the wall of the bathroom hallway.

It seemed like he was waiting for Vikiel to come home from work.

* * *

Vikiel finally manages to send Sinclair somewhere else and leave him alone to bombard him with questions.

``...You're a very hard-working student.''

Vikil entered a deserted hallway carrying a bucket and mop.

All my fellow volunteers at the academy either ate outside or had dessert with the kids.

Mr. Vikir intended to concentrate on the inner workings of the building during the meal, when everyone was most distracted.

Well then.

"...!"

When Vikir was walking down the hallway, he collided with a child.

"..."

Age: early teens. beautiful blonde hair. White skin. Her eyes looked a little sad.

An old, simple golden necklace hung around her neck.

The word "Nymphet" could be read on the necklace.

Vikir shook the bottle of milk that Sinclair had given him to the girl who was looking at him.

"Drink."

"..."

The girl glares at Vikil.

She snaps.

Vikil moves her wrist once, and the milk spins in her bottle.

The girl glanced at him, then turned and ran down the hallway.

Vikir put the bottle back in his pocket without thinking.

Well then.

"Her name is Nymphet."

A voice came from behind her.

Vikir turned around to see Dolores standing there, carrying a knitting basket and a pile of dolls.

As the academy's student council president, newspaper club president, and saint of the Quo Vadis family, she volunteers here every weekend.

Dolores narrowed her eyes at Vikir and asked,

"Do you do community service? I have to work hard to make up for my mistakes."

"...I work hard."

"Okay."

Dolores, I nodded once.

Then he looked at Vikir, his gaze still cold and hard.

``It's best not to touch this child.''

``...?''

Vikir shook his head, and Dolores continued.

"She was born here. I have seen countless volunteers come to the orphanage over the past 13 years."

"..."

"At first, she was a student.

``But I was very close to them.'' They were also volunteers, and so were the older sisters. As time passed, my older sisters and younger brothers stopped visiting me more and more. Nothing can be changed about that. As you move up in class, you need to study further, get a degree, and get a job. I feel the same way now."

"...."

"For every 100 first-year volunteers, probably one will continue volunteering into their third year, and they won't come back when they're done volunteering." Children in orphanages find it difficult to open up to volunteering because graduates are working or finding jobs. "For the volunteers, the children here are a part of many lives, but for the children here, their sisters and brothers are a big part of their lives."

She was almost right. Academy students come here voluntarily to meet community service needs.

Dolores looked at the back of Nymphet's head as she walked away.

``She's tired of short-lived relationships, long-term failures, and permanent separations, so she vowed to herself that she'd never give them up to an outsider.''

``...Well then. "Really?"

"Yes. But every time I saw her, she became more and more reserved and eventually stopped talking to me at all. I feel like she puts all her expectations on other people, and it breaks my heart. I wish she wasn't so skeptical of the world."

Dolores complained that she had been volunteering here for over three years, and the nymphet still hadn't returned her greetings.

Just then.

"...!"

Hearing Dolores' words, Vikiel's expression immediately changed.

"I hope Nymphet will be able to speak again soon. Aphasia is a disease caused by a broken heart, so she needs warm love and consideration from those around her. ...Oops!?"

Dolores said. I couldn't finish it.

Vikir's hand quickly shot out and placed it over her mouth.

... Jaws!

Vikir put her hand over her virgin's mouth and pushed her into the gap between her walls.

It was a small gap created by an architectural mistake, with cupboards sticking out on either side. It was in the shade, so I could barely see it from the hallway.

"What?"

Dolores tried to push Vikile's hand away from her sternum and remove her hand from covering her mouth, but Vikil wouldn't let her and instead pushed her against the wall. I got close to it.

"Shhh"

Vikir's hoarse voice echoed in Dolores' ears.

Dolores felt his mind go blank.

"???"

Is it sudden? No, no, no, what's going on here?

She had never been so close to a man in her life, that's for sure.

She braced herself for this sudden rudeness, a situation she had never experienced before.

"..."

Vikir blinked and scanned the hallway.

The muscles in my face became stiff.

He could feel the stench of putrid mucus coming closer and closer to his nose.

Boom, boom, boom, boom.

Footsteps echo on the marble floor.

A man came toward them from the other side of the hallway.

A gentleman in his fifties. a devout religious person. successful businessman. A loving father.

A man who looks quite normal on the outside but has a strong odor on the inside.

This monster was Vikir's final assassination target, Guilty.

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