Gao Ying was certain—he hated Silphia. He wanted to see her utterly ruined.

Yet that burning hatred didn’t last.

Returning to this familiar place, seeing her clear, bright smile now—even if it was fake—Gao Ying felt his heart stir.

How could five years of feelings vanish just like that?

Was there even a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his own lips?

The thought made him slap himself hard. *You pathetic fool. Still hung up on this woman?*

*Have you forgotten how she treated you?*

For five years, she barely let him touch her. Their most intimate moment? When she fed him the final dose of poison.

Silphia was level 76. He was only level 1. To take revenge, he’d need to reach at least level 40. A Hero’s growth stats surpassed her orange-tier talent—but not enough to crush her outright.

For now, Gao Ying had to endure. Pretend to be deceived. Only then could he strike when she least expected it and bury that woman for good.

*Right. Silphia’s own words: even the strongest can’t dodge a knife in the back.*

As Gao Ying plotted how to taste vengeance soonest—

A lavish carriage halted before him. The creak of its wheels cut through his thoughts.

He lifted his gaze.

The carriage curtain parted slightly. Concerned eyes met his.

“I… saw you talking to yourself. Are you in trouble?”

The sight of that sky-blue hair froze Gao Ying’s expression.

One reason he’d accepted Silphia’s invitation was to find those he meant to repay here. Among them, this woman was the easiest target—closer than the scattered “companions” from his past life.

Lelia Lindbergh. A female martial artist.

Heiress of the Holy Capital’s noble Lindbergh house. And a Heretic spy embedded within the Holy See.

Now she stepped down from the carriage, her crimson eyes filled with worry as they fixed on him.

—

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and crimson.

Lelia approached Gao Ying, tucking a stray strand of cerulean hair behind her ear. Her red eyes held genuine concern.

She wore a black lace-trimmed gown, its off-shoulder cut revealing smooth skin and the full swell of her cleavage.

Her beauty fell slightly short of Silphia’s, but her figure was flawless—curves where they belonged, not an ounce of excess.

In his past life, Lelia ranked among those he could never forgive.

This woman was poison. As an assassin, she’d nearly killed him when he first arrived in this world. Cornered by Silphia later, she’d instantly betrayed her Heretic comrades, slaughtering them as a token of loyalty.

*He should have seen her true nature then.* But he’d believed her tears, granted her redemption—and even made her his companion for her combat skills.

No second chances this time.

Repaying Silphia required patience. But using her hand to eliminate Lelia? That would be effortless.

“Are you alright? I heard you muttering to yourself. Troubles?”

Lelia’s crimson eyes held no guile—clear as spring water.

When Gao Ying only stared silently, she pressed on: “Language barrier? Lost? It’s getting late. Your clothes mark you as an outsider. Worried about lodging? My home is spacious—if you don’t mind—”

“I appreciate your kindness, Miss,” Gao Ying cut in smoothly. “But I’m merely waiting for my companion.”

Lelia blinked, visibly relieved. As she exhaled, the rise and fall of her chest drew Gao Ying’s gaze—scenery so vivid his cheeks warmed.

*This was how she lured hopeful youths to the Holy Capital. How she broke their trust before torturing them to death.*

*Foolish past-me actually believed her tears.*

Lelia smiled—a gentle curve of lips that made Gao Ying’s stomach churn. “I’m glad to hear it. I thought you might be an adventurer who came for the Knighthood trials but ran out of travel funds. Many end up sleeping on streets lately.”

Gao Ying knew why: to fight the Demon Race invasion, the Holy Capital and allied nations plastered recruitment posters everywhere, even remote villages.

“If you need nothing else, then—”

“Miss Lindbergh? Gao Ying? What are you two discussing?”

Silphia returned, her smile radiant. Juice dripped from the orange clutched in her hand.

Lelia stiffened. Silphia’s warm, beaming expression sent an inexplicable chill down her spine.

Recovering, Lelia covered her mouth in surprise. “Ah! Your ‘companion’… is the Holy Maiden?”

Gao Ying nodded. Lelia’s eyes widened as she scrutinized him, brows furrowing. She knew every noble in the Holy Capital—yet this stranger traveled with the Holy Maiden herself.

His unusual attire… *Could he be a prince from the Allied Nations?*

*If so, my earlier offer was terribly improper.*

*To mistake such a person for a penniless adventurer—and even fantasize about luring this naive boy home for… fun—*

Flustered, Lelia bowed deeply in apology. From Gao Ying’s angle, the deep dip of her gown revealed everything.

The orange in Silphia’s hand burst open.

*Now I understand why the Hero isn’t charmed by me.*

*He judges women by the width of their… assets.*

His gaze on that Lindbergh bitch burned hotter than on her. Beauty-wise, that woman couldn’t compare—but in *generosity* of form? Silphia had to concede defeat.

She wasn’t small. Just not… unnaturally large.

For the first time, the Holy Maiden tasted humiliation. As the Holy See’s radiant face, she’d always basked in adoration.

Who ever dared approach *her*?

Countless suitors chased her shadow, never grasping her sleeve.

Yet this Hero remained unmoved despite her clear hints.

The sting of failure soured her mood. But as the Church’s voice, she couldn’t show fury in public.

She wouldn’t accept defeat. She’d prove to the Hero that size meant nothing—that perfection lay in what one hand could perfectly hold.

*She held no interest in him. But he absolutely must desire her.*