The elven maiden swayed unsteadily.

No, that’s not it…

Isabella isn’t a perverted elf…

She’d never use Holy Light magic to sneak into her master’s room and fawn over his sleeping face.

She wouldn’t clutch his laundry and sniff it again and again.

She wouldn’t drink from his cup.

No… no, she wouldn’t. Sob.

“It’s okay, Isabella.”

“Honestly, most elves probably think that way anyway.”

The boy’s voice was bright and clear.

It pulled the Elven Maid from her spiral of despair.

He smiled slightly.

“As a Succubus, being seen as someone aiming to rule the world through lust? Totally normal.”

“If I could pull it off, sure, I’d take the easy route.”

“But sadly, among the Heroes, there are monstrous existences.”

“Her resistance to abnormal statuses… rivals a legendary ancient dragon clad in anti-magic scales.”

Roy’s mind flashed with a clear, aloof figure.

He quickly shut it down.

And it wasn’t just her.

Even Elsa had protective magic to cleanse abnormal statuses.

“So trying to conquer them with charm…”

The boy shrugged.

“Better not bother.”

“O-oh! So you’ve thought it through, Master—I was rash!”

Isabella seized the lifeline Roy offered, stepping down with the Elvenfolk’s elegant, slender grace.

“May I rashly ask one more thing?”

“Master’s plan… what exactly is it?”

Isabella looked up eagerly, her golden eyes reflecting the boy’s confident, sly smile.

“That?”

His voice flowed like sweet spring water.

“I’ll still need your help, Isabella, to make it work~”

“Eh…”

......

Roy rushed back to town.

Late afternoon sun hung low.

Hardworking townsfolk watched the boy sprint into the grand gates of the Adventurer’s Guild.

Shocked voices erupted inside.

“What?!”

“Is that even true?!”

“Roy, don’t be a liar! Or only big sisters will want you!”

“Me too!”

“I want cute little Roy~”

“You idiot women—now’s not the time for this!”

A gruff, unromantic adventurer barked, his voice rough.

Female adventurers and receptionists glared.

Ignoring them, he turned to Roy.

“Roy, take us to the Hero’s location—now!”

His rugged eyes gleamed, suddenly ten years younger.

Women? Not worth a single hair on the Hero!

A man’s true romance was the Hero!

Roy took tissues from a receptionist, wiping sweat from his fair brow.

He accepted juice from a female adventurer, quenching his thirst.

Then he smiled shyly at the speechless man.

“Alright. Willing adventurers, follow me!”

The hall surged upright—a sea of bodies, weapons flashing dizzily.

Even President Enlil descended from his second-floor office, face stern.

“I’ll join you.”

Only a few uninterested receptionists stayed seated.

Roy turned to them.

“Sisters, could you notify the Radiant Church?”

The girls—who hadn’t budged at the Hero’s news—leapt up, beaming.

“Okay!”

“Got it, Roy!”

President Enlil watched, emotions tangled.

The bearded, weary-eyed man patted Roy’s shoulder.

“In a few years, I won’t command this Guild. They all listen to you.”

“Nonsense~ Uncle Enlil is the backbone.”

“Hmph. You kid.”

Thus, the Adventurer’s Guild mob—fresh from the Demon Beast Forest—marched out again.

They followed Roy en masse toward the Demonfolk sighting, where the Hero stood.

Receptionists volunteered to run messages for Roy.

They carried news of the Goddess of Light’s blessing to the church.

Meanwhile, townsfolk buzzed with the Hero’s arrival.

“Heard it? The Goddess of Light blessed us!”

“Really? Last ‘Hero’ was a fake!”

“I believe it! The Hero brings clear skies—Eoliel will be safe!”

“The Hero? What’s that to us commoners?”

“Truth is, a Hero means a terrifying Demon King. His army burns homes, kills, plunders!”

“Hero? More like a jinx…”

“Damn you! The Hero protects us—your words would break their heart!”

Endless debates swirled around the Hero.

But one truth united them:

No matter the Hero’s nature…

The Demon King was pure evil.

......

Inner Eoliel. Radiant Church cathedral.

Bishop Dud scowled deeply at the news.

Hero?

Why now, of all times?

The jowly man stroked his beard, muttering.

“Another fake, like last time.”

Centuries had passed since the last true Hero.

Races and nations had forgotten their deeds.

Frauds had shattered the title’s credibility.

Now, every nation heard “Hero” and thought “scam!”

Yet Bishop Dud’s tone hinted he hoped it was false.

Why?

“Pastor Kaela. Lead a team. Bring that fake Hero to me.”

The burly, hammer-wielding man knelt—handle clacking on marble.

Dud’s eye twitched. His pristine white floor!

These demon-hunting pastors were brainless brutes!

“Yes, Bishop.”

Kaela accepted but hesitated.

“But… what if this Hero is real?”

“Real or fake—the Church judges!”

“Bring them!”