"Holy Maiden Silphiel and Pope Gregory stood before the Hero, the latter stroking his snow-white beard with practiced calm. 'Your Grace,' the Pope began smoothly, 'though this is sudden, believe us—this is not your original world. You are this realm’s savior.'

The Hero jabbed at his phone screen. No signal. He eyed the Pope and Silphiel warily. 'This isn’t some scam den in northern Myanmar? You’re not here to harvest my kidneys?'

The Pope chuckled warmly. 'Scam dens? Kidney-snatching? Are those common where you’re from? We assure you, we’re no frauds.' He shot Silphiel a subtle glance. Her venomous glare vanished instantly, replaced by wide, wounded eyes and trembling lips.

She lowered her lashes just so. 'Forgive my impulsiveness, Your Grace. I should’ve considered your feelings first. Please… don’t be angry.'

*Perfect.* This one-two punch always worked. How could anyone stay furious when their victim apologized *for them*?

Sure enough, the Hero’s tone softened despite his skeptical frown. 'Even if that’s true… this "other world" business—'

The Pope’s beard twitched in a knowing smile. Silphiel’s eyes hardened for a fraction of a second before she masked it. She 'accidentally' brushed the Hero’s hand, guiding him toward the cathedral window. 'Just look outside, Your Grace. See for yourself.'

Sunlight gilded her smile as she glanced back—a masterpiece of calculated charm. Every gesture, every breath, every brush of skin had been rehearsed. *Easy prey*, she thought. *A virgin boy like him would melt instantly.*

She pointed beyond the stained glass. 'Behold our world. Is it not unlike yours?'

The Hero froze.

Below sprawled the Holy Capital—a city of gleaming white marble. Arcane runes flickered like fireflies in the sky. Knights astride griffins and wyverns patrolled between spires. Autumn maple leaves carpeted the slopes where the Holy See’s headquarters stood, painting the valley in crimson.

'Your world has no such sight, does it?' Silphiel murmured, watching his awestruck face.

His chest heaved before he finally turned to her. '…So it’s true. Then earlier, when I—'

'I don’t mind the slap,' she interrupted softly, eyes shimmering with carefully measured tears. 'For the world’s sake, I’d endure far worse. But please… don’t hate *this* place because you hate me.' Her sorrow was Oscar-worthy. *This* was why she was Holy Maiden—flawless, luminous, shadowless.

*Now for the final touch.* She gasped as if noticing their joined hands for the first time, snatching hers away with a blush. A coy glance. *Hook, line, and sinker.* His gaze locked onto her like a starving man.

*Fool. You’re already in the palm of my hand.*

He rubbed his neck, avoiding her eyes. Silphiel mistook his tension for shyness. She never saw the hatred smoldering beneath his pupils.

'Alright,' he sighed, glancing between the Pope’s benevolent face and Silphiel’s radiant one. 'I believe I’m… summoned. But let’s be real—I’m just an ordinary guy. Fighting monsters? Saving worlds? I’m not cut out for that.'

The Pope beamed. 'Fear not! The Goddess herself chose you. Simply speak the words: "Blessing of the Goddess."'

Every bishop in the hall held their breath. Silphiel’s nails dug into her palms. *If he’s weak, the Holy See’s reputation shatters. If he’s useless, I’ll dump him like last season’s handbag.*

'**Blessing of the Goddess!**'

Rainbow light erupted around the Hero. Silphiel’s jaw dropped. Tears spilled freely—like a non-Asian player finally pulling an SSR. *Seven-colored tier!* The rarest divine gift in a world where fate was sealed at birth by color-ranked talents. Even she, Holy Maiden, only had orange-tier.

*Stupidly strong. Perfect.* She’d milk him dry like her last catfish victim. Her eyes gleamed like a predator spotting prey.

For a heartbeat, the Hero’s gaze mirrored hers—sharp, hungry, utterly devoid of mercy.