Dark Fantasy Normalized
Chapter 107: The Saint’s Man (2)

The Saint.

A mysterious man who treated the illnesses and injuries of the powerless and impoverished in the back alleys without asking for anything in return. At first, tales of him were dismissed outside the backstreets as little more than passing rumors.

The people of the outside world had no concern for the decrepit and dangerous alleys. After all, unlike the citizens trapped there, they weren’t dying from minor wounds and treatable diseases simply because they couldn't afford medicine.

But then—at some point, rumors of the Saint began to circulate among the high society of Bondales.

In a world where those who might be ashamed to receive free treatment had gathered, no less.

—“The Saint? Oh, that person who goes around treating people in the back alleys for free...”

—“Yes, that’s the one!”

—“I didn’t think someone like you would be interested in that sort of thing.”

—“Of course I’m not!”

—“...?”

—“But I’ve found myself getting interested. And I think you will too, soon enough.”

—“Why? What happened?”

—“You know Yulina, right?”

—“Oh, our Yulina. Who doesn’t know her—the walking encyclopedia of Bondales’ handsome men. Why? Did Yulina get treated by this Saint guy?”

—“Not quite. She happened to witness him treating someone else, and apparently, this so-called Saint was—”

—“Gifted?”

—“Gorgeous.”

—“...?”

—“Let me quote her directly. ‘Insane, insane! Insane! I swear, I’ve never seen a man that good-looking in my entire life! That bronzed skin, those sky-blue eyes, that rich golden hair... But most of all, that smile—those white teeth peeking out against his tanned skin... And that mysterious air about him! That perfect blend of masculine strength and feminine grace! No other word for it—noble. He looked more like a nobleman than any noble I’ve ever met!’”

—“...Yulina actually said all that?”

The reason noble daughters of high society had begun to take interest in a back-alley celebrity was none other than the rumor of his divine looks.

The name of the Saint, once confined to the shadows, began to spread softly and steadily into the sunlit world on the lips of noble young women.

And then one day, an incident occurred that catapulted the Saint into the very center of everyone’s attention.

Karia Dendro, heiress of Golden Barley, the largest merchant guild in Bondales—the Saint took up residence as a guest in her mansion.

From noble ladies to highborn wives, scores of women flocked to the Dendro estate, desperate to see the Saint in person. And in that place, they fell for his otherworldly aura and breathtaking appearance.

The number of visitors increased by the day.

It wasn’t long before the Saint became the most talked-about figure in all of Bondales' high society.

Countless women opened their ears and their purses in an effort to win his favor. Under that influence, the eastern backstreets of Bondales soon became his domain.

Such was the story of how the Saint became the great figure of the alleys.

Even after he was called the Saint of the backstreets, not much changed for him.

He still stayed at the Dendro estate, receiving guests and steadily expanding his influence.

Even today, women by the dozens headed to the mansion hoping to meet him.

***

The Saint.

Everyone who met him in person was overwhelmed by his enigmatic air and extraordinary beauty. He had always been the one to move others’ hearts—and not once had there been an exception to that rule.

Members of high society spoke of the Saint in hushed fascination:

The man who maintained an equal, polite distance with everyone he met. Could someone like that ever truly feel affection for a single person?

“You smiled...?”

The expression he wore now—perhaps it held the answer to that question.

Even amid the lavish gifts of noblewomen, the Saint had never shown more than a standard, practiced smile. And yet now, color bloomed across his face.

To think he could even make a face like that...

That was the thought running through most people present. They stared after the Saint’s gaze, seized by burning envy and curiosity.

Desperate to know who it was that expression had been for.

“Excuse me a moment.”

“Ah—Lord Eron!?”

Just then, the Saint stepped away from the curly-haired woman at his side—Karia Dendro—and began walking forward.

The crowd surrounding him parted instinctively, making way.

What the hell is this vibe? Rona, just what the hell have you been up to—

At the end of that impromptu path stood Lisir, caught off guard by the unexpected development, but clearly preparing to greet an old companion.

He stepped forward, smiling warmly—only to be interrupted.

“Lord Eron!”

A noblewoman standing beside him suddenly shoved Lisir aside and rushed ahead.

It was Marceline Lavallia—the same aristocrat who had subtly tried to deflect Lisir’s interest moments earlier with a typical noblewoman’s deflection.

Her ornate makeup and flawless dress, worn with effortless grace, made her one of the most influential figures in Bondales society.

Any accessory or style she debuted at a social gathering instantly became the city’s latest fashion trend.

Because of that, Marceline had enjoyed the privilege of frequent contact with the Saint.

And with that basis, she was confident.

He saw me! The gift I gave him must have worked!

Filled with anticipation, Marceline came to stand before the Saint. Her attendants followed close behind, visibly elated.

“Isn’t that Marceline?”

“Wait—are Lady Marceline and Lord Eron...?”

The other guests quickly accepted the scene unfolding before them. They watched the two with breathless interest, determined not to miss a single detail.

But in their fixation, they missed one thing—

“...”

When Marceline shoved past another man, the Saint’s face twisted—if only for a moment.

Then, as though nothing had happened, he returned to his usual mystifying smile. He bowed his head politely to Marceline.

“Lady Marceline. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Yes, very much so—thanks to you!”

Marceline’s voice trembled with excitement. Perhaps it was because she had hurried over—her breathing was short, her face flushed.

Then the Saint raised a hand toward her face.

“Ah...?”

Rather than responding to her fluster, he calmly brushed a lock of hair from the corner of her mouth. His sky-blue eyes met hers, unblinking.

“That’s good to hear. I also had a pleasant time, thanks to you, Lady Marceline.”

“Lord Eron...”

Tears welled instantly in Marceline’s eyes.

She tried to continue the conversation, eyes shining with hope—only to be interrupted.

“But on that note, Lady Marceline.”

“Y-yes? Of course, please speak.”

“Regarding the gift you gave me last time...”

“Oh, ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) yes! I—”

“I believe it’s best I return it to you.”

“...What? But you said at the time that you liked it—”

The Saint didn’t bother explaining. He simply gave a wry smile and shook his head.

“Ah...”

Marceline stood frozen. Then, panic rising, she glanced around her.

The eyes that had looked on her with envy only moments ago had turned cold.

Unable to bear it, she fled the scene. Her companions, after a moment of hesitation, hurried after her.

A heavy silence settled over the venue—but it didn’t last long.

As though nothing had happened, the nobles smoothly resumed their attempts to engage the Saint in conversation. There was even a sense of visible relief among them.

Relief that the Saint had no special woman yet.

“Eron. That gift Lady Marceline mentioned—what was it?”

That voice belonged to the person who felt the greatest relief of all: Karia Dendro, heiress of Golden Barley, who now stepped forward as if to block the oncoming crowd and addressed Eron directly.

Those who had intended to speak to him frowned in annoyance but didn’t press the matter.

After all, with the Saint staying long-term at the Dendro estate, the person closest to him was undeniably Karia.

***

What, you gonna glare at me? Like that’ll do anything.

Karia cast a sidelong glance at the others, basking in satisfaction.

As the daughter of the merchant lord who led Golden Barley, Karia had inherited her father’s keen sense for value. She was ruthlessly calculating: if she paid a price, the return had to be worth it—or she’d use every method available to make it so.

To her, luxury was a foreign language. She couldn’t understand the young women who spent lavishly on vanity—and even held them in contempt.

To spend exorbitantly on overpriced items, just to stir up envy by flaunting hollow status?

What could be more foolish and meaningless?

Karia had always been certain she’d never become one of them.

The Saint.

That was before she met him.

The Saint’s first meeting with Karia occurred when he accepted her father’s invitation to stay at the estate—and it left a powerful impression on her.

—“Lady Karia, is something the matter?”

—“Huh? Oh, no, not at all. I was just... lost in thought for a moment. Anyway, it seems like there are plenty of people here who want to speak with you. Are you sure it’s alright to stay by my side this whole time? With someone as dull as me.”

—“Of course. Here, you’re the most important person to me.”

—“...Excuse me?”

—“You’re the daughter of the one who invited me to stay at this estate, aren’t you?”

—“Ah—! Y-Yes, that’s true.”

—“And besides, why would you say something like ‘dull’?”

—“Well, I’m not really into dressing up like the other girls my age... and all I talk about is money or business...”

—“I don’t think that’s bad at all.”

—“...Pardon?”

—“If you’re aware of appearances but choose not to embellish yourself, doesn’t that mean you’re confident in your natural self? And there aren’t many things more beautiful than confidence.”

—“Kyaa!? Wh-what are you—”

—“Ah, my apologies. Your hair was a bit out of place. Did that make you uncomfortable?”

—“N-no... I mean, I wouldn’t say uncomfortable exactly—”

—“And I find your stories interesting.”

—“Huh...?”

—“At your age, having a vision and planning your future and business? That’s impressive.”

—“...You’re the first person who’s ever said that to me.”

—“That’s odd. What about your father?”

—“Oh, um... he has said something similar—”

—“I see. So besides your father, the only one who’s recognized your true worth is me?”

—“Uh...”

—“Well, it’s like having your potential acknowledged by a master merchant, isn’t it? What an honor. I have no experience in that field, but if I ever need to make a business decision, I’ll trust my instincts confidently.”

—“...”

The conversation they had. And the envious stares surrounding them as they spoke.

It was a feeling Karia had never experienced before. As if she were someone truly special.

Karia came to understand that feeling by associating it with luxury and display.

She was utterly captivated by it. And by the man who was its source—the Saint—she was captivated completely.

Thus, Karia came to believe, deeply and with certainty: only she, the daughter of Golden Barley’s master, had the right to enjoy the luxury of monopolizing such a man.

And to maintain that privilege, she was prepared to do anything.

In this moment, as she spoke with the Saint, Karia let herself sink into the attention surrounding her.

Or perhaps, more truthfully, she was falling into the presence of the Saint himself, the man who conjured all of it.

Though she had never cared for adornment, traces of embellishment could now be seen on her person. The clothing she once chose solely for practicality now held hints of flourish, and the bare face that once lacked any lady’s elegance had been carefully touched with makeup.

In truth, Karia no longer paid any attention to others’ stares. She only cared about one thing—the Saint’s reaction to her.

Perhaps that’s why—

“...Hm?”

She noticed, in between their conversation, that his attention seemed to drift elsewhere.

Then, the Saint spoke.

“Karia, I’m going to speak with someone for a moment.”

“And what if I say no?”

She replied with a teasing tone, though it hid a thread of sincerity.

Of course, that subtle tactic had no effect on a man who so easily stirred the hearts of countless women.

He simply smiled lightly—and walked away.

“...”

Karia’s dissatisfied gaze followed after his back.

Where are you going?

At first, it seemed like he was joining others in the garden. But instead, he left it entirely.

“I’ll be right back.”

Leaving her guard Rok behind, Karia quietly followed him.

Soon, the Saint slipped behind the estate.

Footsteps came to a stop. Karia leaned against the mansion wall and listened closely.

—“Are you feeling any better?”

A shy woman’s voice drifted toward her.

Who...?

Karia felt a sense of unease but kept listening.

—“Oh, thanks to you. I heard you took care of me while I was unconscious?”

Huh?

But the voice she heard next wasn’t the Saint’s—it was another man’s.

The Saint was nowhere to be heard. Only the timid voices of the woman and the man reached her ears.

—“...Who told you that?”

—“Oh, someone. Anyway, thanks, Rona. I owe you one again.”

—“...No. I’m the one who owes you.”

—“Hm? Oh, right. You’ve been doing pretty well lately, huh? Saint.”

—“...Shut up.”

“...!”

Karia’s eyes flew open.

The unease she’d sensed in the woman’s voice finally took shape.

That androgynous, confident, soft voice—

It was the voice she—and everyone—knew as the Saint’s.

Which is why she had never imagined...

That’s Eron’s voice...?

***

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[Title: Base Activation? What the hell is that?]

Content: Is it different from deactivation?

—> It means turning an area into your main base.

—[OP]: What’s the benefit of doing that?

—> Random events mostly trigger in your base, so it’s easier to manage.

—> Hero candidates visit your base.

—> Star Festival happens in your base.

—[OP]: Star Festival?

—> Yeah, like a martial arts tournament where the strongest post-core cultivators gather.

—[OP]: Oh lol

—[OP]: So how do you activate a base?

—> Looks like it triggered in Bondales for you, right?

—[OP]: Yeah

—> Finish the fate quests to disable regional lock, then raise conquest to 80%.

—[OP]: Conquest? Does it go up from fate quests?

—> Nah, you need high faction reputation and individual character favor.

—[OP]: I don’t get it, but sounds annoying af.

—> Bondales is rough. Big cities with mage towers are always harder.

—> Wanna hear spoilers?

—[OP]: What is it

—> Most players try to base in Bondales but end up giving up and choosing the next city instead. Reputation/favor grind is way easier there.

—[OP]: Fr? Thanks. Almost wasted a ton of time.

—> Damn, spoiler alert lol

—[OP]: Wait, are you grinding Bondales too?

—> Nah, he spoiled it so now you won’t waste time. You’re welcome.

—[OP]: What a jerk lol

—> I’m on my 3rd playthrough and I still can’t get a Bondales base. Lmao

—> The city’s a fengshui goldmine though, ngl.

—> City Council < how the hell do you deal with these boomers?

—> Honestly the Council’s fine. The merchant guild and the socialites are the real nightmare.

—> Merchant Guild Karia < that greedy gold-digger bitch’s gift requirement is absurd lmao

—> Isn’t she the one who prefers gold coins?

—> Yeah.

—> No matter how much you give her, favor doesn’t go up. Wtf?

—> It’s a mistranslation.

—[OP]: What’s it supposed to be?

—> A shitload of gold coins.

—[OP]: ???

—> She doesn’t care about anything but money, and she’s so rich, average cash doesn’t even register.

—> I went bankrupt trying to raise her favor. Just skip her.

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***

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[Regional Conquest: 77%]

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***

“Eron!”

Unable to hold back her emotional turmoil, Karia finally revealed herself.

There, she saw a man—Lisir—standing with the Saint.

And—

“Karia?”

The Saint, who had become a refined, androgynous beauty, had returned to being just a soft-featured young woman.

Karia, flooded with betrayal, shouted out:

“You—you’re a woman!?”

At that, the Saint’s entire expression changed.

Now clearly a man once more, he stepped toward Karia.

Using the momentum, he drove her back against the wall.

“You followed me here?”

Startled, Karia flinched—but quickly retorted.

“Th-That’s not the point right now!!!”

“...You’re right. That’s not the point.”

A stunning beauty—who could charm anyone, regardless of age or gender—leaned in close to a plainly dressed girl, clumsily adorned with curling hair.

“Do you hate me now?”

“Wh-what...?”

“Do you hate me now that you know?”

The beauty smirked provocatively, placing a hand under the girl’s chin and guiding her gaze upward.

“...”

Karia’s pupils trembled violently. Then, she lowered her head and mumbled:

“...No.”

Satisfied with that answer, the beauty smiled, gently stroking her cheek.

“...”

And on the modest girl’s face bloomed an unmistakable expression of joy.

Having calmed the girl, the beauty turned their gaze back to Lisir.

“...Where were we again?”

Now completely transformed—shy, awkward, and nothing like before.

***

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[Your reputation is spreading throughout all of Bondales!]

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***

Rumors. They are like droplets spilling over from a turbulent cup—fragments of information torn away from the truth.

As of late, the gossips of Bondales had been spending their days frantically gathering those fragments.

Rarely had the city seen such a simultaneous flood of thrilling, provocative rumors.

“This should about cover it.”

One such gossip—also a mid-level member of the information guild—reviewed the insights he’d gleaned from hearsay.

He smiled to himself as he read over his notes.

“Where the hell did all these monsters come from, all of a sudden?”

Little did he know:

All those rumors stemmed from a single man.

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