Early the next morning, Luke was formally summoned by the King of Messiah Kingdom.

Though the king appeared warm and deeply respectful toward Luke, Luke couldn’t muster even a trace of fondness for him—even without using his mind-reading ability.

As the nation boasting the richest resources and vastest lands in the Southern Realm, Messiah Kingdom’s strength remained merely mediocre, its people’s living standards downright abysmal… The royal nobility’s corruption and callousness were infamous far and wide.

Well, that was one thing—Luke knew little of statecraft. But today’s audience marked his very first meeting with the king.

Yesterday’s welcoming party had included only a duke and the Saintess; not a single direct-line prince showed up. Not from busyness—but fear.

Even the Hero they’d personally invited, they feared might harbor hidden motives or collude with rebel factions. Precedents existed elsewhere.

In truth, Luke’s luggage had been magically scanned repeatedly the prior day. Guards monitored his every move before and after the ball—even inside the inn. After today, he’d move into the palace. The “specially prepared” quarters were surely laced with surveillance magic.

Ironically, despite such paranoia, they still strained to impress him—and forge a closer bond.

“Hero Luke,” the king said, gripping Luke’s hand with grandfatherly warmth, “may your stay in our kingdom be joyful.”

The motive was simple: should Luke’s Heroic Party defeat the Demon King or achieve glory, Messiah Kingdom—their recommender—would reap rich rewards. If Luke ever proudly declared, “I am the Hero from Messiah Kingdom,” all the better.

Thus, they *wished* he’d stay months longer… No. Not wished. *Demanded*. They never intended to ask his opinion.

Fortunately, staying held one perk.

“I wish to visit Lady Aelia. Please announce me,” Luke said to a guard after exiting the council hall.

He held little regard for the pink-haired Saintess—her title far outweighed her merit. Yet knowing future events made teaming up worthwhile. If unbearable later? Abandon her after extracting enough intel.

“At once, sir!”

As the kingdom’s current celebrity, Luke commanded deference. But before the guard took three steps, a red-haired man blocked his path.

“Lord Charles?” The guard flinched, panic flooding his mind with rumors—gift-wrapping intel for Luke.

“What business do you have with Lady Aelia?” Charles snapped.

After freezing the guard with a glare, Charles strode to Luke, eyes sharp as an interrogator’s.

“I seek to understand Lady Aelia better for future cooperation,” Luke said with an open smile, extending a hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Luke. You must be the renowned General Charles?”

Charles coldly swatted his hand away. “Cut the act! What are your true intentions?”

*Sigh.* An unreasonable type.

Luke’s “act” was refined through mind-reading—undetectable to most. But like a scholar facing a deaf-eared soldier, Charles dismissed facts outright, branding Luke guilty. *This* was Luke’s least favorite person.

Nearby nobles who’d stepped forward to help instantly retreated at the sight of Charles’s fiery red spiky hair, waiting for a hero to emerge. Clearly, Charles was a fearsome beast none dared challenge.

“I believe there’s a misunderstanding…” Luke spoke calmly—not from fear, but to avoid harm. Yet if Charles drew steel publicly? He’d hold back no longer.

Charles ignored him. “Enough talk! Face me—”

Just as his hand touched his knightly sword’s hilt, a crisp voice rang out:

“Please, stop!”

All turned. The ethereally beautiful pink-haired girl hurried over with urgent yet graceful steps, eyes brimming with worry. “No more arguing, please.”

Relief washed over the crowd. Even Charles—seething moments prior—went blank at her sight. When clarity returned, guilt drowned his rage.

Luke finally grasped the staggering weight of Aelia’s popularity in Messiah Kingdom.

Yet tragically, her inner thoughts utterly betrayed that trust.

*(Charles, you fool! This courtyard’s too cramped—take it to the training grounds! And that flimsy dress sword won’t kill anyone. Bring out your massive flaming greatsword already!)*

“Lady Aelia, my deepest apologies for the disturbance,” Charles knelt swiftly. Before Aelia could speak (she had no intention to), he rose, glaring at Luke. “But do not stop me… Hero Luke, I formally challenge you!”

“Brother Charles, please!” The pink-haired Saintess—secretly delighted—leapt before Luke, shielding him fiercely. “Lord Luke is no villain! There must be a misunderstanding!”

“Lady Aelia, truth reveals itself in combat!” Seeing her selfless stance, Charles’s faith in Elise’s warning deepened.

*(Good… but not enough. Fan the flames.)*

The pink imp in her mind cackled. Aelia’s expression softened into tender concern. Stepping forward, voice trembling with gratitude and worry:

“Brother Charles… I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”

“Lady Aelia…” Charles wavered, knowing her gentle heart.

But the timeless tactic of suppression before elevation never failed.

“I know you worry for me. But I’m safe. Lord Luke is truly trustworthy… Please believe me?”

Then—the final move. Aelia’s face shifted: resolute, sacrificial, as if offering herself for the realm.

Charles understood.

No crude mind magic or deception could touch this strong, wise Saintess. Her compassion ran so deep she *chose* to pretend enchantment—to risk herself redeeming even this “despicable” Hero.

Clarity solidified his resolve. Gently ushering Aelia behind him, he locked eyes with the black-haired youth.

“Hero Luke,” Charles declared, voice unwavering. “I will fight you to the death!”