Frankly, the meal Caro prepared wasn’t exactly lavish. Though plenty of ingredients were available, she hadn’t planned to use them all at once. After all, there were only three people here at most—and one was an undead who might not even eat.

A potato stew with meat, shredded potatoes, and pan-fried meat.

Honestly, it was already quite luxurious. Caro hadn’t eaten this well since arriving in this world. She went all out only because Arnold was strong. Even if he couldn’t take Adventurers’ Guild quests, as long as he was willing, he could disguise himself, take out a couple of creatures like those Flame Demonkin, and exchange the crystals for a decent fortune—*if* he chose to.

But these ingredients belonged to undead Lucy… Was Caro just freeloading?

Would writing a story or composing a song for Lucy count as payment?

Lost in thought, she carried the dishes to the main hall. The aroma instantly lured Arnold over.

“Th-this was made by you?”

Caro nodded proudly. “Hehe~ This level? A piece of cake. If I weren’t starving myself, given enough time, I could whip up an imperial banquet—no problem!”

(Of course, she was bluffing. Thanks to her privileged upbringing, she’d tasted countless dishes—but only knew *what* they were, not *how* to make them. Actual cooking would take serious trial and error.)

“Anyway, let’s eat! I’m starving!” Caro declared, already digging in.

Arnold didn’t hold back either.

Lucy simply floated midair, showing no intention of sitting down.

“By the way,” Caro asked between bites, “why did you come to Lucy’s place? I thought you’d accepted the demons’ invitation to find the Demon King’s daughter.”

Arnold shot her a deadpan look, chewed a bite of meat with visible satisfaction. “Yeah, I’m in a rough spot now. So what if I joined the demons?”

(Truth be told, people here didn’t discuss matters during meals—Caro had been scolded for it at the orphanage. But Arnold clearly had no energy for etiquette.)

“The Flame Demonkin who invited you seemed sincere… even gifted you a body.”

Arnold glanced at her. “If he hadn’t given it, I’d have taken it. No real difference. And… I was scared.”

The Dragon Slayer seemed to feel closer to Caro now, openly admitting fear.

“Betrayed and abandoned by humans… I feared the same would happen among demons.” He spoke candidly.

Caro nodded. “Makes sense. I’ve heard demon politics are fiercer. Frankly, betrayal’s practically normal there.”

Arnold clearly carried scars from this. He’d never share this soberly without last night’s drinking session—pride mattered, even for someone this strong.

*Does this mean he sees me as a brother?*

Their drunken oath of brotherhood hadn’t been for nothing!

(She remembered everything—she never blacked out when drunk.)

Caro steered the topic gently. “How did you and Lucy meet? As a Bard, I’m curious. Mind sharing?”

She glanced at Lucy—*she* was the story’s true protagonist. Consent mattered.

Lucy looked slightly surprised, then descended gracefully onto a chair, sitting primly despite her petite frame.

“Before meeting Lord Arnold, I’d lived two hundred years.”

Caro nearly reached for a quill—but refrained; they were eating.

Arnold kept eating, already familiar with the tale.

Lucy continued softly, “My family once ruled this land as nobles. The war… took everyone. I didn’t know why I became undead. Only that since waking, I drifted alone in this manor—until Lord Arnold arrived.”

“I’m deeply grateful to Lord Arnold.”

Caro glanced at Arnold. He set his bowl down. “No need to dwell on it.”

Lucy covered her mouth with a polite smile. “Miss Helen was about to exorcise me. But Lord Arnold protected me—said, ‘If she acts wrongly, I’ll bear full responsibility.’ He was… so handsome and dazzling then.”

Arnold lifted his bowl to hide his face.

Clearly embarrassed.

Lucy’s expression dimmed. “Lord Arnold’s expulsion from the Adventurers’ Guild… is partly my fault. To keep others from disturbing me, his team reported the quest complete—after coordinating with villagers. Yet ‘submitting a false report’ became grounds for expulsion.”

“Lucy. Not your fault.” Arnold met her eyes, earnest. “That decision was mine alone.”

*Damn. He really is dashing like this.*

*No wonder he’s the Dragon Slayer,* Caro mused—*if only he didn’t have crumbs on his lip…*

“You’re missing the point!” Caro cut in. “This isn’t about quest completion. Even if you perfectly cleared every quest, they’d *still* pin ‘false report’ on you now.”

Arnold and Lucy stared, puzzled.

Caro blinked. “Wait—Lord Dragon Slayer, have you *really* been isolated from this for twenty-six years? And Miss Lucy, over two centuries old?”

They exchanged confused glances.

“Sigh~ Simple question: Arnold, ever taken a quest to exterminate specific monsters in a designated zone?”

“Naturally.”

“Exactly! Say you cleared orc marauders from Area X. Later, someone dumps two more orcs there and claims you failed. What then?”

“…?”

Caro spread her hands. “Final say rests with *them*. They decide your fate. The Guild *knew* Lucy’s situation—they expelled you anyway. This isn’t about fault. It’s about stance. Even if you’re blameless… in their eyes, you’re guilty.”

Both widened their eyes.

Lucy seemed to grasp it; Arnold looked shaken. “But… Nastia she…”

“Who’s Nastia?”

“Guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild.”

*Ah. Close ties. Classic kind-hearted hero—meets beautiful girls everywhere, gets tangled in drama. Harem tropes? Never plausible.*

Caro stayed neutral. “Did she make a promise to you?”

“…Yes.”

“Any binding contract? Magical oath?”

“No.”

“Then there you go.” She shrugged. “Think: compared to Dragon Slayer Arnold, the entire Demonhunt Squad held greater value. What if someone said, ‘Him or them’? Choosing to expel you… isn’t that logical?”

Arnold fell silent.

“I get it—you spent years slaying monsters, training, adventuring. Reaching your level took grit. But understand this: placing unspoken expectations on others is unfair. If you expected them to keep promises… you’d only hurt yourself.”

Caro finished eating, saw Arnold set down his utensils, and started clearing plates. *Freeloading means extra chores.*

“So~ as your sworn brother from last night: think carefully what you’ll do. Want to be boring? Totally fine. Giving up *is* comfy. If I lacked dreams, I’d quit too. Life’s your choice. Whether it shines? That’s another story.”

She carried dishes to the kitchen, leaving Lucy and Arnold in the hall. *Truth is, we’re not close. Sworn brothers or not…*

*Sleep early. Tomorrow: check if the tavern fired me.*

Ugh. Rough.