Yesterday the Hero Squad crossed paths with Nivifar. After a string of near-mythic mishaps, we joined forces and brought down the Floating Sinbeast.

Do I need to spell it out?

I screamed myself hoarse last night—at the victory feast. My throat burns like dry reeds. Water first. I flip the blanket, push myself up, rest my head against the wooden headboard like a cool slab of stone.

We blink-jumped onto the Sinbeast’s back. To our surprise, Nivifar was already there, a lone lantern on a black sea. A few clipped words, and the four of us fell into a rhythm of sabotage.

But the Sinbeast was larger than hills and rivers. Fists and blades couldn’t reshape a landscape. Its every inch could split into a devouring maw, teeth like guillotines, flesh harder than steel.

Heroes are mortal. Mortal hands can’t wrestle heaven’s wrath.

I still had the alchemical bombs Raven hard-sold me. She swore they were for blasting paths through mountains. I chose to trust her, just once.

We carved holes into that drifting continent of flesh, fighting between sudden maws that bloomed like night flowers. We hacked a bloody corridor toward its core.

Then the Sinbeast noticed us. Slow to anger, but life makes even a mountain flinch.

Our tunnel twisted into a maw. Half-man-tall saber-teeth slid out, drooling corrosive slime. The maw began to close like a trap in winter.

At the last instant, Stini unleashed her heirloom art—A Single Cold Star. One thrust, and a fist-sized gap bloomed for the bomb to slip through.

Nivifar shifted into the stance Tread Through a Thousand Mountains. She struck, and the force tunneled through empty air, triggering the alchemical bomb from afar.

I wrapped us in Shadow and used Shadow Slip, dragging everyone out through the beast’s innards like ink through silk.

Princess Golia threw herself over the group, body first, shielding us from the bomb’s ragged aftershock.

We all took cuts and bruises, paint on a battle mask. But no broken bones, and the town still stood. Worth it.

We returned as heroes, drowned in cheers like a tide. After a night of riotous celebration, what came next?

I press my fingers to my brow and wait. The morning grump and the hangover crest together, then ebb. I feel lighter. I prop myself higher, shoulders sinking into the headboard.

Where’s my cup? Yesterday... where did I put it?

The inn bed is narrow. If I reach, I can touch the world. No cup on the headboard... My fingers graze not wood, but something soft.

Boobs... must be my imagination.

Right, the cup was on my right. Ah—did I sleep on the edge? I reach right—

Another soft thing.

A chest... absolutely a hallucination.

And why is my body so heavy? Something’s on top of me.

Humanoid. Skin smooth as glazed porcelain. A soft whimper. Soft, but not that soft. She’s petite; not much flesh. Forget it. Hallucination. Or sleep paralysis.

Fine. They say overnight water gathers heavy metals. I’ll get a fresh cup after I get up.

I ease myself free, careful not to disturb the sleepers on both sides. Even if it’s a hallucination, a lady’s sleep is sacred. Beauty wilts without it. A gentleman guards it.

I peel the cute little “ghost” off my chest and lay her back on the bed. Then I slip off the mattress.

I toss clothes on the floor by habit. Usually Vega works a miracle and hands me crisp, ironed clothes in the morning.

Vega’s not here, and my habits don’t change.

I set my toes down like a cat. Then freeze. Since when is a cheap inn’s floor this smooth and soft?

I nudge Dulan aside with my foot, pick up my clothes, and dress without a sound.

Dulan slides into her maid outfit. Her face reads, clear as ink, I did everything to help. Satisfied now?

I grab her by the hair and drag her into the hall.

Let’s talk about life.

“You did this?”

“Yup.”

“...”

She admits guilt like it’s air. I don’t even know how to punish that.

“Are you stupid?”

“Compared to Vega, I’m not smart.”

“If you know you’re dumb, stop doing extra.”

“Isn’t it nice when Master shares a bed with girls?”

“It’s nice in the moment. After, panic and second thoughts slam you. That’s universal. And it isn’t about thrills. What about what comes next, damn it?”

Is my plan really going to trip here? Damn you, Dulan.

“So I messed up?”

“You think you did great?”

“It’s fine. I made a move that advances or retreats. Namely—you actually did nothing.”

“...” Why do I feel so empty? Nothing happened. I should be glad.

“See? I know I’m not clever. So after you and the girls got drunk, I checked with Vega.”

Dulan also has a comm crystal keyed through the Shadow Realm. She’s lazy and barely calls me. I forgot.

“And then?”

“I put them under a sleep-suggestion. Took off the clothes. Arranged them together. Pulled up the blanket. Lights out.”

She mimes a whole packing-and-storing routine with her hands. No wonder I woke up surrounded on three sides.

“Only that?”

“Only that.”

I let go of her hair. My mood is a knot. Do I beat her, or give her a medal?

No actual relations. With the sleep-suggestion, the girls wouldn’t wake. We can treat it like nothing happened.

“...What if I, half-asleep, climbed on someone anyway?”

“That’s why I waited under the bed.”

“But when I got up, you were asleep.”

“...”

“...”

“No problem. With my suggestion, they won’t move in their sleep, much less... that.”

“This is obviously your fault. I should beat you black and blue.”

Knew it. Chaos-leaning familiars are useless, except Vega.

—

We took our time. We dressed the girls. We fished keys from Gloria and Stini’s pockets and returned them to their rooms. Nivifar’s station is with the mercenary company. I could only let her stay in my room, pretend I was up all night, and gentlemanly give her the bed.

All went smoothly—except when moving Princess Golia. She opened her eyes like a corpse waking. I nearly died on the spot.

You hear her halting speech long enough, you forget she’s alchemical. She can’t get drunk.

“Don’t worry. Nothing happened. We only slept.”

She left me there, rattled. Then walked back to her room like a clockwork doll.

Dulan offered a prim explanation:

“Vega said Gloria has magic immunity. She ignores sorcery, but can’t feel mana. So she didn’t notice me using sleep-suggestion on Stini and Nivifar. Don’t worry. Your identity is safe.”

“I’m still in a foul mood. Don’t talk to me.”

“As you wish.”

No blood on the sheets. Princess Golia’s words calmed me. Morning reset. Fresh day.

I sat by my door until it opened. Nivifar stumbled out, panic in her eyes, and watched me topple as my support vanished.

“Ah, sorry, about last night...”

“I gave you the room. Was it comfortable enough?”

“...”

“What’s wrong?”

“I stayed overnight in a man’s room... Even if Andor stood guard outside...”

Sorry. I did sleep next to you. I swallow the thought and listen to her mutter.

She freezes. Covers her burning cheeks. Bolts.

I stand and shout from the inn window, voice cracking like a bell.

“Hey! Wait, Nivifar! We took down the Floating Sinbeast. Finals count as passed. We’re leaving soon. Want dinner tonight? Hey, wait!”

Her fleeing silhouette stutters. She heard me. That’s enough.

My piece is placed. Now I leave it to Mr. Devil to keep the show going.

That stage is one I won’t see.

I turn from the window and run into Stini, who’s just pushing her door open.

“Morning. Ha~ah. Morning, Andor. I got drunk. Why didn’t you do something that would force a wedding? Are you impotent?”

The Hero defines speaking without a filter.

She says it as a joke, but it lands like a spear. Cold sweat. If she’d truly found out last night, she’d have made a scene and married me by noon.

Thankfully, heroes trust their instincts, but they still doubt them sometimes.

I pretend I heard nothing outrageous and greet her.

“Morning, Stini. Our exam’s done. We can head back tomorrow.”

“I thought the whole thing took a month.”

“We cleared a special subjugation. We can graduate early.”

“I see.” She rakes her bedhead. “Then we’re saying goodbye to little Nivi.”

“All feasts end. Parting comes for everyone.”

“Mm... No. My gut says a darkness is closing on this city. We have to protect it.”

She waves and claws at the air, sketching a beast only she can see. If I didn’t know the Devil’s plan, I’d scoff.

“What are you—oh. You might be right. The monsters lately do seem stronger.”

Of course. Pay the Devil enough, and he can do almost anything.

Think how much I paid to invite an Archdevil. He’ll give me a full Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

“Right, right. The Floating Sinbeast was a herald. Bigger disaster’s waiting for you.”

“When did you turn into a fortune-teller... Breakfast. Princess Golia’s slow. Let’s not wait.”

“What about little Nivi? Didn’t she drink with us?”

“I lent her my room. She just left. But... her mood was odd.”

“Odd?”

“Strange. Like she was rushing toward something. Like she was on the verge of tears. Like she was relieved and disappointed at once. Maybe she forgot her pay. Probably nothing.”

I toss it out lightly, then head downstairs toward the dining hall.

Out of the corner of my eye, Stini rubs her chin, thinking.

I’ve said enough. With her instincts, the Hero will feel the thread I left hanging.