"Sir, we've arrived."

The black carriage halted before the central mansion of Yethania. The impeccably dressed coachman stepped down, opened the door, and bowed deeply with a respectful gesture.

Rean alighted with a faint smile, offering his hand toward the carriage interior. After shooting him a glare that paled her face with irritation, Olga reluctantly placed her hand in his and descended slowly.

Honestly, the Adventurers' Guild really covered everything—even carriage rentals. Had Rean not planned ahead, he might’ve just carried Olga leaping straight here. But picturing himself dramatically dropping into the middle of the guests? Way too awkward. He liked showing off, sure, but not *that* cringey.

Gazing at the brilliantly lit mansion, a subtle smile touched Rean’s lips.

Beyond the gate, the courtyard blazed with light. Elegantly dressed guests mingled with wine glasses in hand. Long tables laden with drinks and delicacies lined the perimeter. Laughter and chatter spilled outward, all buzzing about today’s grand magic that single-handedly obliterated Mammon’s army—a topic that drew a wry chuckle from Rean.

No wonder everyone was fascinated. A long-standing threat wiped out effortlessly by one person? Anyone would be curious. He still remembered being interrogated by other Demon Kings after taking down Behemoth.

Still… from outside, every guest seemed like someone important.

Rean frowned slightly, then relaxed. Of course—the lord’s mansion couldn’t possibly host every warrior. Those inside were likely distinguished commanders, standout adventurers, and nobles from neighboring cities who’d aided Yethania.

But that didn’t matter.

"Good evening. I am Rien Schumel, invited to this banquet. This is my companion, Olga Anjelo."

Rean calmly presented the invitation to the gatekeeper. Even he was attending a human nobles’ banquet for the first time—and like Olga, he was brimming with curiosity.

"Rien Schumel… My apologies, but please wait a moment. Lord Tyler instructed us to notify him upon your arrival."

The gatekeeper examined the invitation carefully, bowed respectfully, and hurried inside after Rean gave a slight nod.

Seizing the pause, Rean turned to Olga.

"Don’t embarrass me in there, okay?"

"In what way?" Olga lifted her chin with displeasure, glancing sideways at him.

"Just mind your attitude once we’re inside. Don’t talk back constantly—it looks ill-mannered."

"I talk back because *you* provoke me, okay?"

"See? There you go again," Rean chided with a frown, leaving her momentarily speechless.

"Fine. I’ll try not to interrupt when you speak," Olga conceded with a guilty nod. "Anything else? Spit it out."

"Nothing… Wait. One last thing—higher priority."

Rean’s gaze locked onto the drink-laden table. Recalling Olga’s rampage last night sent a flare of irritation through him. Worst part? She remembered *nothing*. No grounds to confront her.

"You are *not* to touch a single drop of alcohol. If I catch you even near it, I’ll knock you out and carry you back—and I won’t guarantee what happens next."

"Lay a finger on me, and I’ll take you down with me!" Olga hissed fiercely. Rean simply withdrew his gaze, unfazed.

"My lord, thank you for the honor. I’m truly surprised someone of my standing was invited to such a grand banquet."

Rean bowed politely to Lord Tyler, who hurried over with the gatekeeper—while subtly pinching Olga’s waist behind his back.

"Please, no formality, Master Rean! You’re Yethania’s savior—your deeds are the city’s talk. How could an old man like me deserve such courtesy?" Tyler’s aged face beamed, his laughter hearty and unrestrained compared to their morning meeting.

*This old earl’s even more unpretentious than I imagined… Definitely a battle-hardened veteran.*

Rean smiled inwardly. Aside from the constant "hero" titles, he genuinely liked Tyler.

"Hmm… Is this your companion?" Tyler stroked his chin, studying Olga earnestly before turning back. "Such a radiant lady—truly a perfect match for you, Master Rean."

*Tch…*

While Olga’s cheeks flushed, a vein throbbed on Rean’s temple. *Why does everyone say we’re a match? Forget we’re archenemies—the Angel and the Demon King! Our hostile aura alone screams we don’t get along.*

Though honestly… the closest answer was probably "nothing."

"You misunderstand, my lord. Her name is Olga. We’re merely traveling companions. She’s the one who dismantled the South Gate outpost with me yesterday."

Rean offered an awkward yet polite smile, smoothly redirecting attention.

Tyler’s eyes lit up. He’d heard three individuals cleared the Guild’s top three bounty quests yesterday—in near-travel-time speed. To have two standing before him!

"Hah! Then I truly misspoke. But… is Miss Olga also a remarkably skilled mage?"

"I believe her abilities rival mine—"

"You flatter me, my lord," Olga smoothly cut in, her gentle tone and poised smile making Rean doubt he’d brought the right person. A split second later, she shot him a sly, mocking glance: *See? I can be proper too.*

Rean pursed his lips in resignation.

Truth was, his praise held no exaggeration. With her holy magic doubling damage against demons, her power to dismantle spells at the source, and her swordsmanship… Rean knew he wouldn’t have the upper hand in a real fight. But against Mammon next time? She might make victory even easier.

"I understand perfectly! As long as you remain in Yethania, you are my most honored guests!" Tyler boomed with satisfaction, his laughter echoing into the courtyard.

"Enough chatter! Please, enter. Let us drink to victory—I shall formally introduce the hero who saved Yethania in its darkest hour!"

*Formal introduction… Please, spare me.*

A headache throbbed behind Rean’s eyes. This wasn’t a Demon King’s coronation—no royal ring to accept before witnesses. Just a banquet. Did he *really* need the spotlight…? Oh. Right. He *was* the main contributor.

Still, he had no intention of basking in gratitude. He remembered his true identity clearly: a borrowed name, zero disguise. Drawing attention risked exposure—and if recognized, not only Yethania but Christine would face danger. If both places dear to him were threatened, even he’d be stretched too thin.

"My lord, regarding introducing someone as insignificant as myself… please set it aside for now." Rean halted just inside the gate, murmuring lowly, "The time isn’t right."

Tyler froze, sensing the resolve in Rean’s eyes. Boisterous yet perceptive—a man who’d nurtured this city thirty years knew when to read between the lines.

"Then… might Master Rean wait in the garden behind the main mansion? I’ll join you once current matters are settled."

"As you wish. I’m in no hurry."

Rean nodded toward the central mansion. *Seems every noble estate here loves a backyard garden.*

Tyler bowed and hurried off—merchants who supplied the army, commanders who fought while ill, rising adventurers, allied nobles… Beyond celebration, navigating interests was the real work.

*Politics really are the same everywhere.* Rean’s curiosity had faded. He and Olga stepped slowly into the courtyard.

"That’s it—we’ll part ways briefly." Rean plucked a glass from the table, casually observing the ruby-red liquid.

"Alright… It *is* important business," Olga murmured, her expression oddly reluctant. The girl who’d bickered with him moments ago now resembled her pouty, coquettish self from earlier—leaving Rean baffled.

"Won’t take long. Find a spot. Don’t chat with other men. I’ll be right back." He shrugged with a sigh.

"How about I take your place for a bit instead?"

A familiar voice cut in from the side. Rean and Olga turned to see Cang Lin approaching with a warm, knowing smile.