Boom! The golden summoning circle exploded violently.

The bishops cried out, "Ouch!" as they were flung backward.

Amid the blinding golden light, a pitch-black shadow flickered. His eyes glowed scarlet, like a vengeful demon risen from hell.

The radiance was too intense.

Silphiel couldn't make out the Hero's face clearly—only a hazy silhouette emerged.

Judging by that burly frame, it was definitely not a girl's!

She sighed inwardly.

Yet, as the flawless Holy Maiden in the world's eyes, she couldn't show a trace of displeasure, no matter how dissatisfied she felt.

The Hero was the world's only hope. He had to be firmly tied to the Holy See's cause—and she'd handle it herself.

Hmph, this Hero was getting quite the bargain. Next, she'd have to play his doting girlfriend.

Silphiel glanced at the Pope. The old man nodded at her.

The Holy Maiden closed her eyes slightly, took a deep breath, and slipped instantly into acting mode.

The golden light dimmed. The figure in the magic circle sharpened before her eyes.

Utterly ordinary looks—not ugly, not handsome. In a crowd, he'd vanish without a trace.

Short hair. His clothes suggested he, like her, was a transmigrator from Blue Star.

His attire was plain, matching his unremarkable appearance.

He looked about seventeen or eighteen—still a student, no doubt.

Silphiel's rosy lips curved slightly. She already had his profile sketched in her mind.

Such a student would be easy to fool. Likely a virgin with little experience around girls.

How could he resist her charm?

Her smile deepened.

Silphiel stepped forward, locking eyes with the Hero. His face was clouded with confusion, as if he hadn't processed anything yet.

She reached out, suppressing her discomfort, and took his hand. Tears welled in her eyes as she pleaded, "Hero-sama, please save this world!"

Silphiel was pleased with her performance. First impressions mattered for transmigrators. As the Hero's first contact—and a stunning beauty—she was certain he'd be smitten.

A little physical touch would cement that initial bond.

Confident, she waited. But the Hero snatched his hand back as if electrocuted.

In her daze, she glimpsed raw hatred in his eyes.

Huh? What was this? What did that look mean?

Had the script gone off track?

Amid her confusion—*slap!*—a crisp sound echoed.

Silphiel froze, clutching her stinging cheek, eyes wide with disbelief.

Simultaneously, the Hero's furious voice cut through: "Save the world? Save your damn ass!"

His reaction stunned not just Silphiel but the celebrating bishops too.

The grand cathedral fell deathly silent.

After the initial shock, white-hot rage surged from her core.

*Slapped? Me—the Holy See's pride, the adored Holy Maiden, a beauty beyond compare—slapped by the Hero?!*

What was he thinking? How dare he?!

Even my dad never hit me!

Silphiel's rage meter maxed out. She wanted to crush him underfoot, grind him to dust!

But such thoughts were pure fantasy. Summoning this Hero had drained the Holy See's resources.

He was the continent's last hope. Until the world was saved, she couldn't act on her fury.

Silphiel covered her face.

*Holy Maiden, endure!*

Revenge could wait ten years.

Now, uphold the persona: Silphiel, you're gentle and kind, bathed in holy light—no shadows, no vengeance.

*Just you wait, Hero. Once I've squeezed you dry, I'll make you suffer.*

She forced tears to her eyes, adopting a pitiful, wronged-heroine expression.

That heart-wrenching look shifted the bishops' expressions.

Yet Silphiel noticed—the Hero's eyes still burned with hatred she couldn't decipher.

Why did he stare like she'd killed his father?

His expression shifted—confusion flickered, then vanished, suppressed.

His voice rang out: "Save the world? I'm warning you! Dressed like cultists, I won't fall for your scam! The country's cracking down hard on fraud!"

Silphiel's eyes narrowed. Oh—he thought they were scammers?

That made sense. Maybe he'd been in his bedroom gaming when the scene suddenly changed.

Then a "cult" demanded he save the world.

In his shoes, she'd suspect a scam too. Slapping her in self-defense was... understandable?

But that hatred earlier—

She felt she'd missed something crucial.

The old Pope chuckled, helping her up. "Hero-dono, you're mistaken. We're no frauds. You're not in your world anymore. This is the continent of Tewatti..."

The Pope had absolute faith in Silphiel's beauty. At sixteen, she already had looks to bewitch nations.

Her tearful, pitiful act could sway even seasoned veterans like him—let alone hot-blooded youths.

Who could refuse a lovely maiden gently holding your hand, pleading with tear-filled eyes?

His Holiness was certain.

Yet—what was that slap about?

He'd prepared for shyness, confusion, even lust—but never an instant, ruthless slap to Silphiel's face.

Huh, the Hero had quite the temper.

"What Tewatti? You think I've read too many manga? Send me back now, or I'll call the police!"

The Hero pulled out his phone—no signal bars. He froze, stunned.

*Idiot,* Silphiel thought. *Finally noticing? Who'd build sets and cosplay just to scam a broke student?*

This Hero was hotheaded and slow. A perfect fool!

Inwardly, she rejoiced. He'd be so easy to manipulate.

Scheming, she already pictured him wearing the collar of a devoted lapdog.