This world held many beautiful girls. Take the Holy Maiden of humanity, for instance—or the Demon King’s daughter. To Arnold, these two were the most stunning he’d ever seen. Bluntly put, their beauty would stir admiration in nearly any man. Yet their charm wasn’t just looks—their distinct personalities made them wildly popular. And even setting them aside, every girl in the Demonhunt Squad was undeniably gorgeous.

Logically, as the squad’s sole male member surrounded by such beauty, developing feelings for someone would be natural. But Arnold hadn’t. Across twenty-six years of human life, he’d felt many emotions—some he’d mistaken for love or infatuation, only to realize later they weren’t.

But now… he recognized this surging feeling. Maybe this was—

Caro was unlike anyone he’d ever met.

No other girl would be so uninhibited—drinking alongside him without a care, matching him drink for drink until she vomited.

He’d seen drunken maidens before. Once, a princess disguised as a commoner, flushed with wine, whispering if he’d stay in her kingdom. Was she truly drunk then? Probably not. In fact, she’d been wearing makeup—Arnold noticed instantly. But he said nothing. She pretended to be drunk; he pretended to sleep through her question.

But Caro?

Arnold had a hazy memory of last night. His robust physique could resist drunkenness if he willed it—but he *had* gotten drunk. Because Caro genuinely was.

Crying, shouting, stumbling—like two mad fools. Yet in that moment, his heart felt lighter than ever. Years of melancholy seemed washed away. Now, hearing Caro’s words, past regrets faded. Her slightly disheveled figure filled his entire vision.

*"I’ve just been fragile lately because of everything,"* he mused inwardly. The Dragon Slayer Arnold felt shame for his cowardice. *So I developed feelings… just because this girl comforted me? Does that make me a fickle man?*

Caro missed his shifting gaze. Hands on hips, she flashed a confident grin. “Hah! Your eyes changed! Looks like you’ve realized what you need to do. Good. I’m relieved!”

Arnold felt less like a legendary hero and more like a street punk—with Caro as his big sis.

“Say… you got food?” Caro suddenly asked. “I’ve emptied my stomach. Going out to find anything now is…” She glanced at the sky. No late-night shops in a town like this. “I’m so hungry my stomach’s sticking to my back.”

*Even if she wasn’t hungry… she’d still look that way. Developmentally speaking…* Arnold gave her an admittedly rude once-over. “Food… should be in the kitchen.”

Oblivious, Caro blinked. “Wait—you called me Lucy when I arrived? So the ghost Lucy *does* exist?”

“Yeah.” Arnold didn’t deny it. He scanned the room, then waved toward a corner. “Lucy! Come out. She’s not a threat.”

“Hm?”

Caro turned. A cute little ghost floated into view—semi-transparent, looking eight or nine, timidly peeking from behind Arnold.

“This is Lucy,” Arnold explained. “We… I share history with her. With nowhere to stay, I’m temporarily lodging here. She’s the host.”

“N-nice to meet you… I’m Lucy,” the ghost stammered, shyly hiding further.

Caro’s eyes lit up. *A cute ghost girl?! Awesome!* Her intense gaze made Lucy shrink back. “Hi, Lucy~ I’m Caro! Can you show me the kitchen?” Hunger demanded action. *Hangovers really are the worst.*

“Oh… this way.”

*Can a ghost even handle ingredients?* Caro followed, pondering. Honestly, this delicate spirit seemed incapable of real combat—even if summoned, she’d only spook people. Lucy’s story was best left as curiosity fodder.

The kitchen was surprisingly spacious, stocked generously—even with meat. Given the orphanage’s tight budget, meat was a rare luxury. Meals were usually simple. Caro had tried adding flair with knowledge from her past life… but it was just flair.

“These are ingredients I traded with townsfolk,” Lucy said softly, shyly covering her face. *As a ghost, you can’t blush…* Caro almost said. Blushing required blood flow—but Lucy clearly had… feelings for Arnold.

“You like Arnold?” Caro blurted.

“Eh?!” Lucy jolted, frantically shushing Caro while glancing toward the hall. “I-I don’t!”

“Haha~” *Give me a hundred ghosts like this.*

Fantasy aside… “Anyway—do you plan to let him stay long-term?” Caro schemed shamelessly: *If Arnold’s meals are covered, why not mine? Empty rooms, ghost host… no scary spirits lurking. Perfect spot until I leave town.* She started cooking.

“Lord Arnold was very sad before,” Lucy murmured, hovering as Caro worked. “I’d never seen him so dejected. He always smiled with confidence… I could do little, so I traded for supplies, hoping he’d recover. But he only drank.”

Caro struck flint to kindle the fire. “Everyone has those days~ Heroes, commoners—we all feel betrayed by the world sometimes. Resting isn’t wrong.”

“But Lord Arnold… he should be… stronger…”

“I don’t know your history or your ideal of him,” Caro said, checking surprisingly well-stocked spices. *Time to shine.* Her two years of cooking practice wouldn’t go to waste. She glanced at Lucy’s conflicted face. “Imposing expectations on others is cruel. Feeling disappointed privately is one thing—but demanding it of them? That’s worse.”

Lucy froze.

“As a Demonhunt Squad member, as the Dragon Slayer, Arnold earned that title’s benefits—and its weight. Back then, he *had* to be strong, confident. That was your idealized version.” Knives thumped rhythmically on the board. “But he was expelled. Blacklisted by the Adventurers’ Guild. Stripped of rank. Now he’s a wanted criminal—hunted on sight. For *this* man… would you still demand Dragon Slayer standards?” She met Lucy’s eyes. “I find that harsh. Technically, as a law-abiding citizen, I *should* report him. But as a weak Bard… fearing retaliation from a ‘criminal’… keeping quiet feels… permissible? Don’t you think?”

Lucy looked confused.

“Point is: give him time. Listen to his heart. His choice. *Then* decide if you’ll hope for him—or blame him.”

Plainly? She was defending Arnold.

Last night was hazy, but Arnold’s tears had been raw. Maybe she’d cried too, drunk and wild. But his sorrow ran deep. Even the man who slew dragons had fragile moments. Right now, he was vulnerable.

So Caro reached out.