The Black-Stockinged Nun Is Actually a Boy?! [17]

In the end, Helen decided to keep the nun seed.

Even though the Temptress seed in his body hadn’t fully sprouted yet, it was better to hang onto it for when he eventually dual-classed.

Dual-classing required all existing seeds to complete germination first. Forcing the process early could lead to unstable growth, which often resulted in body distortion, mental collapse, or even death.

After packing his things, Helen left the church quietly through the rear entrance.

Outside, he bought a newspaper from a street vendor.

As expected, in addition to triumphant reports of Emperor Constantine’s ongoing campaigns, page two featured a story on the vampire killings.

“All the victims are girls?” Helen narrowed his eyes.

The deceased were all young women in the prime of youth. Clearly, whoever the killer was, they had a type—or deliberately targeted a specific demographic.

Damn. I can’t remember which quest this is supposed to be.

While Helen was wracking his brain for clues, the newspaper boy suddenly piped up, “Are you Sister Helen?”

“Huh? How’d you know?” Helen smoothed out his habit, crouching down to meet the kid’s eyes.

“Everyone says Sister Helen from District 33 is the prettiest. Even the noble boys in the Upper City know that,” the boy whispered conspiratorially.

Only then did Helen get a good look at him. The newsboy’s cap was pulled low, but the pointed tips of his ears still stuck out—he was a half-elf.

Half-elves made up the second-largest demographic in Constantinople. Most were commoners, though some came from minor noble lines. In the Lower City, they were known for being especially well-informed.

Every major newspaper employed them in some capacity, so half-elf newsboys weren’t unusual. What was unusual was that this one knew who he was.

“I’m that famous?” Helen asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

The kid nodded solemnly. “You’re fourth place on the ‘Most Marriable Girls’ list. You’re cute and pretty, but you’ve got an ordinary background and you’re kinda low-key, so you’re ranked under Miss Evelia. But since this vampire thing started, Evelia’s been dropping fast. You might get bumped up to third!”

Helen: …

He wanted to argue about what exactly “ordinary” meant, but his soul was tired.

Yeah, forget it. With how things are going, the goblins are definitely gonna break through eventually.

Rome is doomed.

“I’m gonna marry you when I grow up!” the kid declared, striking a heroic pose.

Bonk!

“Ahh—ow!” The boy winced, rubbing his head.

Helen lowered his hand without expression. “Here. Five hundred copper. Gather me intel on blood elves.”

The kid blinked, then thumped his chest confidently. “Leave it to me!”

Helen handed him the bill and turned to leave.

He was asking about blood elves because the memories had finally come flooding back.

The vampire murders weren’t actually committed by vampires.
They were the work of the blood elf family—House Ares.

That noble house had long since been corrupted by the whispers of an ancient dark god. The killings were simply a byproduct of them losing control.

In his past life, it took several high-level players working together to resolve that questline. They’d earned the Church’s trust—and the bloodkind’s gratitude.

If he remembered correctly, the quest originally came from a bloodkind NPC… Evelia, wasn’t it?

Shit. She’s one of the bosses from the second expansion, Plague of the Dead. After Vlad, she’s the next Tier 5 vampire!

Helen buried his face in his hands.

This little Constantinople… so many hidden monsters. Practically every popular NPC turned out to be a major boss.

And Evelia—because she looked a lot like Inori from Guilty Crown—had inspired players to call themselves “the new king” or strike dramatic poses while shouting “No!” with their right hand raised.

But as the game progressed and she stopped reappearing in new content, she’d gradually faded from popularity.

Forget it. Prioritize getting stronger. Helen shook his head and cleared his thoughts.

Teaming up with players (to use them as cannon fodder) is the key to survival!

Meanwhile, Natalie had arrived at the back entrance of the church, driving the carriage.

As a former farm girl, she’d naturally learned to ride. Compared to flesh-and-blood horses, the mechanical steed was child’s play.

“I’ll take over driving. We’re heading pretty far into the countryside—you should rest a bit,” Helen said, trying to haul himself up onto the driver’s seat.

But his arms were either too slim or too weak, and he struggled for quite a while.

It wasn’t that Helen was short. It was just that the carriage chassis had been elevated to accommodate the mech-horse’s design, making the climb annoyingly steep.

Natalie’s mouth twitched upward. “Need a hand?”

“You think?” Helen squinted at her.

Natalie tilted her head slightly. “Call me Sister.”

“In the Church, I’m your sponsor. Your senior!” Helen shot back, trying to sound authoritative—but his panting and flushed cheeks only made him look more delicate… and inadvertently seductive.

Natalie looked away, blushing. “When I was little, I always wanted a younger sister. That way, when my parents weren’t home, I’d still have someone to keep me company. But after they were gone…”

“…Okay, fine, fine—Sister,” Helen mumbled, clearly flustered.

The moment he said it, something in Natalie’s heart melted. She reached out and hoisted Helen up.

Unfortunately, neither witch nor nun had much physical strength.

As soon as she pulled him up, she lost her balance and toppled back onto the carriage deck—Helen landing squarely in her arms.

Easily a C-cup, Helen noted absently, face going red as he quickly sat up.

“Wait—aren’t you… not wearing socks?” Natalie blinked, scrambling upright.

Helen looked down. The hem of his nun’s skirt had fallen to one side, revealing a stretch of smooth, pale thigh.

“I am. Ankle socks,” he said, lifting the skirt slightly and raising his leg to show the small white sock peeking out from under his shoes.

Natalie’s eyes flickered.

“That’s not warm enough. You’ll catch a cold without proper stockings,” she said seriously. “Here—wear the black thigh-highs I tossed on your bed yesterday.”

Helen widened his eyes in horror.

A guy wearing thigh-highs? You’ve got to be kidding me!

“They’re warm, okay?” Natalie said firmly. “Exposed thighs in early spring? You’re begging for the flu.”

Helen stared at her.

Natalie stared back.

Helen continued to stare.

Natalie’s gaze shifted sideways, and she began whistling innocently.

Helen narrowed his eyes. “What are you scheming this time?”

Natalie looked him in the eye. “I just think you’d look good in black stockings. What kind of nun doesn’t wear them, anyway? Especially with how cold it still is in spr—mmph!”

She didn’t get to finish. Helen flicked her forehead.

“I’m a full-fledged nun. Practicality comes first.” Helen smoothed out his robe, back to deadpan mode.

Natalie rubbed her forehead. “We’ve already cuddled in bed. What are you even pretending for?”

Helen tilted his head, smiling faintly. “Wanna test that again?”

Natalie blinked—then looked away, blushing. “Maybe… if you wear the thigh-highs.”

Helen was silent for a moment. Then he turned forward.

“Back inside. Now.”

Natalie slinked into the carriage obediently.

Then curled into a corner, burying her face in her hands.

He probably thinks I’m too forward…

…

Meanwhile, Helen exhaled in relief once Natalie had fully retreated to the carriage interior.

I really can’t deal with girls like her.

---

T/N: helen would die then if he met me huehuehuehe

This is a fan translation of 黑丝修女姐姐居然是男孩子？ by 水滴磐石 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!