Far, far from Maelzu Town, deep inside the lavishly decorated innermost chamber of the Adventurers’ Guild headquarters, two women sat facing each other.

One stood out instantly: long black hair, a slender frame, a massive bow slung across her back, a resolute gaze, and a faint aura of lethality clinging to her. The other, golden-haired, was her opposite—draped in heavy, elegant robes, a gentle smile always gracing her lips, radiating approachable warmth.

“Haven’t we recruited a new member for the squad yet?”

The black-haired woman was Cassipero, the Demon Hunter archer, captain of the Heroic Rank Adventurer squad *Demonhunt*. Few things in this world escaped her aim.

Across from her sat Nastia, president of the Adventurers’ Guild. Stirring her tea with one hand while propping her chin on the other, she explained with a hint of helplessness: “First, they need Heroic Rank strength—but nearly all adventurers at that level already lead their own squads. You expect someone to abandon their team just to join *your* Demonhunt Squad? And take the front line, no less?”

“Even so, our squad’s reputation should attract talent.”

“Come on,” Nastia said, slight irritation in her voice. “Do you think others are fools? Everyone knows your formation was once considered perfectly balanced. The missing piece? A Dragon Slayer swordsman for the front line. Frankly, many Heroic Rank swordsmen can barely survive a dragon encounter—let alone slay one. There’s a world of difference between escaping alive and actually killing it.”

She continued casually: “Face it—your squad was once the prime candidate to be chosen by the Chosen Hero, possibly tasked with vanquishing the Demon King. Are you willing to lower your targets? Frontliners face extreme risk against over-leveled foes. Death probability soars. Maybe wait a little longer. Someone’s strength might leap soon… and they just happen to admire your all-female squad of beauties. Stranger things have happened.”

Seeing Cassipero silent, Nastia added: “And that test you set? I doubt any Heroic Rank adventurer would pass it. Pride matters in this circle. Without *him*, your squad isn’t revered enough to make others risk humiliation. Failing your test? That’s just losing face. No one’s that desperate. Besides… with a member missing, the Chosen Hero might pick another squad. Just saying~ Though, of course, the Chosen Hero hasn’t even appeared yet.”

Cassipero’s brow furrowed. “And *you* agreed to expel him. You blacklisted Arnold yourself.”

Nastia chuckled softly. “I wanted to see his limit.”

“Limit?”

“Innocent smiles, gentle eyes—I’ve never seen him push himself to the brink,” Nastia murmured, a trace of infatuation flickering in her expression. “But he *can* be stronger. If he gave everything… maybe he *is* the Chosen Hero. The thought won’t leave me.”

“What do you mean?”

Nastia slid a document forward. “Official notice from Cro Kingdom: revoking the wanted poster against the former Dragon Slayer, now labeled False Hero. Includes an apology letter citing ‘misunderstanding.’ He acted. He fought back.”

Her smile twisted into something sinister, eyes gleaming with distorted obsession. “He’s angry. If I push harder… will he rage through the Guild’s Heroic Rank ranks, stand before me—and kill me?”

“You’re insane.”

Nastia’s expression instantly smoothed. “Maa~ Seventy percent joking. Don’t tense up. Still… I *want* to push him. Even if he comes to hate me. And let’s be fair—his past methods *did* harm the Guild’s reputation. Blacklisting him was justified. I owe others that much.”

Cassipero held her gaze. Nastia met it without flinching.

“Keep searching,” Cassipero said flatly before leaving. “The situation isn’t good.”

Watching her go, Nastia let out a low, shadowy chuckle.

“How can he blame *me*?” She tilted her head toward the ceiling. “*Demonhunt Squad* expelled the Dragon Slayer and submitted falsified evidence. I merely yielded to Guild and squad pressure… labeling Arnold a False Hero. I *wanted* to help him~ How could he possibly dislike me?”

…

Lucy’s matter had settled. Caro still worked at the tavern but negotiated fewer hours—less pay, yes, but time to chat with village elders, piecing together fragments of Lucy’s past.

After that performance, her skill list now showed *Performance Lv. 1*. A small joy. She’d heard Bards’ music held power. No clue how to use it yet—but having the skill felt good.

Though… thanks to drinking with Arnold, she’d also gained *Heavy Drinking Lv. 1*. What kind of skill was that? Sounded like a drunkard’s badge. Tarnishing her reputation.

Still, she’d begun compiling Lucy’s story.

*A spectral maiden from two centuries ago.*

A horror tale would spread fastest—urban legends like the Slit-Mouthed Woman or Sadako: unsettling but not terrifying. Perfect for virality. And virality meant strength.

But that felt disrespectful.

Caro wasn’t *that* shameless. Lucy was gentle, kind, beloved by the town. Twisting her into a horror story? Unforgivable.

This had to be a warm tale. Full of love. Full of parting.

She’d stayed in Lucy’s manor these past days—but only these days. Talks with elders found her cheaper lodging. Time to move.

Staying longer felt too bold. The manor wasn’t hers. It belonged to Maelzu Town. To Lucy’s memory. Children might still sneak in to explore. Even now that Lucy was gone.

So yes—time to leave.

Arnold had vanished after that day. Caro saw the kingdom’s apology, the revoked warrant. He’d stepped into a new chapter. She felt a flicker of envy.

*Strength lets you do anything.* Power that makes a kingdom bow—what *can’t* you do? Instead of getting drunk with her?

But men hit lows too. Like she once did. After her parents died, she spent half a year drowning sorrows in bars. Lucky no one took advantage. Until one day, flipping channels like childhood memories, she saw bungee jumping…

*If the cord snapped… would that be a “reasonable” death?*

She tried every extreme sport. Oddly, they pulled her back to life. She traveled the world, chasing unseen sights… until the end.

No one had reached out then. No one understood.

So… Arnold owed her one? They’d sworn siblinghood. Meaning… if trouble came? *Ahem.* You know how it is. Leverage his name. Pull rank.

*Now I’ve got connections. Backing.*

She shamelessly grinned to herself.

She’d leave Maelzu soon. Once Lucy’s story was woven into a long poem—sung as prologue and gift to the town—she’d depart.

Hard work. She’d never done this before. Lately, staying up late left her sleep-deprived.

Just then, a man clad head-to-toe in black, a massive greatsword on his back, stepped into the tavern.

“Arno—"

“Welcome, sir. What can I get you?” *Golden hair. Different face. An Arnold admirer?*

The man smiled. “Caro. Don’t recognize me?”

“…You!”

*It’s him.* But he was disguised—he didn’t want exposure. She swallowed his name.

“What’ll it be? Here’s the menu.” She offered a perfectly professional smile.

Arnold scanned it. “Hmm… How about fruit wine and potato beef stew—*personally prepared with love* by the waitress?”

*Is this a maid café?! I’m in men’s clothes!* The town knew she was a girl, but she *worked* in boy’s attire.

*Should I cast a “make-it-taste-better” spell too?*

The jerk was flirting.

“Coming right up~” she chirped sweetly.

Arnold shuddered.