A remote street.

Beneath a silent rooftop.

Watching the skilled hands picking the lock ahead of her, seemingly completely unguarded against the presence of someone else behind her.

Moen's heart involuntarily began to race.

"This... feels kind of wrong, doesn’t it?"

"Hmm?"

Celicia turned her head, looking at Moen quizzically. "What feels wrong?"

"Isn't this a bit too fast..."

Moen fidgeted awkwardly. "I mean, I don’t mind really, but don’t you think this is a little too sudden? I think we should get to know each other better first—"

"The president's back!"

Suddenly, a lively, delicate voice cut Moen off as a small head peeked out from behind the now-opened door. "You’re so late! I’d have been really worried... eh? Someone else is with you?"

As she spoke, she turned her gaze toward Moen.

Both of them froze.

Moen froze.

Buy-one-get-one-free?

Playing it this open?

No, wait, wasn’t this Celicia's secretary, Weier? The one that often followed her around like a faithful shadow?

Realization dawned on Moen.

"Moen Campbell!"

Weier swiftly recognized him too, and for some reason, her small face flushed red. Suddenly, she let out a *pfft* and two streams of blood sprayed from her nose.

"You—you perverted sleazeball! What are you doing here? Are you stalking our president!?"

"Huh?"

What the hell?

Sleazeball, fine, he could reluctantly accept the label. But what fresh nonsense was this about cursing him while spraying blood from excitement?

"Enough, he's a guest."

Celicia flicked Weier’s forehead sharply. "I told you to stop reading those weird books. Go prepare some hot water, quickly."

"Oh."

Weier wiped the blood off her face, clutching her forehead. She pouted, but casting a resentful glare at Moen.

Just as she turned and headed inside, a book she’d hidden under her skirt suddenly slipped and fell to the ground.

Moen instinctively looked down.

The artwork on the book’s cover revealed exquisitely drawn figures, depicting two men entangled in an... unspeakable position.

One was a bald, muscular brute. The other—his clothing half-removed, his face delicately flushed—was a handsome blonde nobleman that, no matter how Moen looked at it, seemed unnervingly... familiar.

Damn it, wasn’t that... him?!

Fanfiction?

A homosexual one?

"You—"

Moen turned a horrified gaze toward Weier.

"It’s not me—I didn’t—you’re mistaken!"

Weier’s head erupted with steam as she frantically snatched up the book and bolted into the house.

For a long moment, Moen silently turned toward Celicia, his mouth twitching.

"Your secretary... has some dangerous hobbies."

"...She’s only started this recently. She used to just read normal novels."

Celicia looked rather helpless, clearly also at a loss about how to deal with Weier’s peculiar new interest.

But then, her eyes sharpened as she shifted her gaze back toward Moen.

"By the way, what was that about being too fast, and needing to ‘get to know me better,’ huh?”

"..."

Moen’s expression froze. With an awkward laugh, he stammered, "I was saying, um, your sword skills are too fine... I should better understand your strength."

"Good that you realize."

After leaving him a chilling glare, Celicia turned and walked into the house.

Moen heaved a sigh, seemingly regretful, before following suit.

...

Once through the entrance, they were greeted by a rather plain-looking courtyard.

The arrangement inside was simpler still, bearing no resemblance to the residence of a princess.

But Moen could faintly sense the flow of magic in the air, as though potent enchantments guarded the place.

At least, while basic, the residence had all necessary amenities for living.

After assigning Moen a room, Weier led him to a bathroom.

Though the rest of the courtyard was austere, this bathroom stood out with its elegant design. Expensive woodwork and polished stone formed a luxurious bath, resembling a small hot spring. Steam rose from the water, which was laced with aromatic flower petals floating gently on the surface.

"Go ahead and wash up."

Weier turned her face away, speaking loftily.

Moen stared at her for a long moment before hesitatingly asking, "Miss Weier."

"What is it?"

"You’re not planning to peek at me bathing, are you?"

"Wh-what?"

Weier flushed with a mix of rage and mortification, stomping her foot in indignation.

"Moen Campbell, what are you trying to say? Why would I ever want to watch you bathe? Even seeing you stark naked would give me eye sores!"

"Is that so..."

Moen lowered his gaze.

As Weier stomped her foot, yet another book accidentally fell to the ground.

This time, its illustration showcased the blonde, charming yet bashful youth being entangled with a bear-like hulk of a man.

Incredible.

No repeats—all unique pairings!

"Anyway—"

Weier hastily stuffed the book back into her arms, her face flushed red. "The one who should be careful here is you! Do anything inappropriate, and I won’t let you off lightly!"

With that, she dashed off in a flustered retreat.

After ensuring the bathroom door was properly locked, Moen carefully inspected every possible corner for any magic or gadgets meant to spy on him. Only after confirming there were none did he finally relax, undressing and submerging himself in the warm waters.

"Ah... this feels amazing."

A sigh of contentment escaped his lips.

Now that he thought about it, it had been a long time since he’d last been able to rest properly.

Too much had happened recently, especially within the last two days. From battling the dark god to fending off those two mischievous chicks, everything had drained him to his core.

If his body hadn’t undergone unimaginable training fueled by the flames of the King of Wither, he would’ve probably collapsed by now.

But now, lying in the soothing, herb-infused hot water—a bath clearly imbued with curative properties—his exhaustion at last flooded to the surface.

Moen tilted his head back, gradually succumbing to drowsiness.

...

Meanwhile, in Celicia's room, the lights remained brightly lit.

She was working through a pile of documents.

Hearing the faint sound of footsteps as her secretary tiptoed in, she asked without looking up, "How is he?"

"He’s fine."

Weier helped organize the papers, pouting.

"Just looked tired, though. He fell asleep soaking in the water. Honestly, president, I feel like it’s such a waste to let him use those rare medicinal herbs for a bath."

"Those herbs are meant for external use. Unless you expect him to eat them?"

Celicia replied nonchalantly.

"Besides, after the things he’s done, he has earned the right to use them... Wait a moment."

Celicia’s brows furrowed as she looked up at Weier.

"He’s in the bathroom. How do you know he fell asleep?"

"Uh..."

Weier froze, her cheeks stiffening before her face quickly crumpled like a scolded child.

"I... I guessed!"

"Is that so?"

"Of-of course! There’s no way I’d use certain methods to secretly spy on that perverted sleazeball bathing! Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

"...Weier."

"Y-yes?"

"Throw away all those weird books of yours later."

"...Oh."

Weier looked utterly devastated, as though the world had come crashing down around her.

It was all that bloody Moen Campbell’s fault. Nothing good ever happened when he was around.

Those books had cost her a small fortune! Each one was a rare, gilt-edged collector's edition, circulated only among secretive circles within the academy!

Her heart ached terribly.

But after a while, Weier nervously tugged at her fingers and softly asked, "President."

"What is it?"

"If I throw them away... can I draw my own one?"

"..."