Caro was furious.

The moment she heard Arnold’s words, she flew into a rage—no hesitation at all. Arnold was strong. At their level, hearing another’s heartbeat let you gauge truthfulness to some extent. Skilled people usually controlled their physical reactions to hide their true feelings.

But Arnold rarely masked his sincerity. That simply wasn’t his style. The others in the squad probably…

Caro, though, was weak.

A girl who’d been a Bard for less than a month—too weak to lie. Her racing heartbeat, the involuntary rise in her voice—they proved it: she genuinely felt insulted. Her pride was wounded.

*What have I done?*

Arnold felt a pang of remorse. He liked this girl, yet without truly knowing her, he’d rashly spoken and hurt her.

Worse—he felt a flicker of joy. Maybe from seeing a new side of her; he’d never seen her angry before. Or because even furious, she was adorably earnest. Or simply… how could anyone get angry over *this*?

Honestly, would anyone?

As Caro herself said, it was practically free money. Anyone would call it a windfall. Who’d refuse? Unless they sensed danger.

Deception.

But Arnold meant well. If pressed—he *did* want her to fall for him. From that angle, yeah, you could say he wanted her body. But he genuinely wished her well. He never meant to hurt her.

Yet he had.

Caro’s eyes burned. “So, Arnold—if you see me as a friend, as a *bro*, don’t say stuff like that. Even if I starve—well, scratch that. I’ll ask *you* when I need help. I can ask. But you can’t just *give* it like… pity. You get me?”

Wasn’t it usually the opposite?

Arnold wasn’t naive. Twenty-six years without romance, but surrounded by girls his whole life—he knew the drill. Holidays meant gifts. Not lavish, but *given*. Team camaraderie. Girls’ unspoken rule: *I won’t ask, but you’d better offer.*

Caro flipped the script. Her outlook felt boyish—casually dropping “bro,” “buddy.”

Surprisingly easy to be around.

“I was wrong. I apologize.” Arnold offered a straightforward apology. One of his strengths: honesty defused tension. Hard-earned wisdom from years with girls.

Usually, they’d huff, “Hmph~ You’d better!” A stereotype, maybe—but the girls in the Demonhunt Squad did that.

Caro, though, scratched her head, flustered. “Ah… You apologized *so* fast. Now *I’m* awkward.”

*What’s she thinking?*

“—Well… I messed up too, getting angry like that. I know you meant well, Arnold. But friendship built on money? That’s not pure. I just… hate owing favors.”

She locked eyes with him. “If I took your ‘kindness,’ how would I repay you? With my body? How’s that different from being kept? And honestly—it wouldn’t even cover it. You’re Heroic Rank. With your income, you could buy *dozens* of slaves like me.”

*I’d say it’s more than enough…* But using such means to claim the girl he liked? Unthinkable. Scumbag behavior.

Her words revealed how little she valued herself. No one should see themselves as… cheap.

“But if you *are* apologizing…” Caro tilted her head. “Show sincerity!”

Her mood flipped to a playful grin. “Take me somewhere fancy to eat! That *other* idea’s a no-go, but I won’t say no to upscale food~”

Her shifts were swift as sea weather—yet felt utterly natural.

Arnold understood. Arnold knew… And in that moment, he felt redeemed.

…

“This is Maelzu Town’s top-tier restaurant~” Caro chirped, scanning the menu and circling dishes. “Haven’t tried most upscale stuff… though honestly? Taste is usually just *meh*.”

Arnold barely glanced at the menu, smiling at her enthusiasm. “Caro… you’ve got zero ulterior motives toward me?”

“Motives? Huh?” She glanced up, sizing him up. “Your muscles *are* pretty ripped.”

“That’s not what I meant…” He flushed slightly. “But I *am* Heroic Rank. Most people would try to leverage that.”

“Aren’t I?” Caro blinked, genuinely puzzled. “Like earlier—asking you to take me to a brothel or whatever…” She said it with zero filter.

…*Did that count?*

Arnold sighed. “I mean—wouldn’t most try to profit? I’m truly grateful, Caro. Without you… I don’t know when I’d have pulled myself together.”

A proud little smile bloomed on her face. She waved dismissively. “Pfft—no big deal! For me? Total piece of cake.”

*So cute when she’s like this.*

Arnold almost wished he had a magic charm to capture every expression. *If I win her heart… I’ll see even more.*

Then her face turned serious. “Anyone seeing a broken man in a place like that… wouldn’t you comfort him? I *had* to reach out.”

“What if it wasn’t me? Could’ve been dangerous.”

“…Yeah, risks exist. Choke on food? Suffocate. Stop eating? Everything’s risky. Sounds like sophistry, but—redo it tomorrow with someone else? I’d still reach out~”

Arnold’s chest tightened. Not because of himself. *At that time, in that place… even if it wasn’t me, she’d have comforted anyone.*

So… he wasn’t special?

A quiet dejection settled in.

Caro noticed. She studied him. “You’re down. Still stuck on earlier?”

“Earlier? Ah… The Demonhunt Squad—Cassipero and I built it over years. Poured my soul into it. Sometimes I wonder… if *I’d* been captain, would I still be there?”

Smooth subject change.

“Or maybe *you’d* be the lone captain of an empty squad.”

“…” Arnold winced. “You really don’t hold back.”

While waiting, Caro counted on her fingers. “I don’t know your exact role. But if the Demon Hunter captain dismissed you against others’ wishes? They’d protest. Your squad’s famous. *You’re* the Dragon Slayer—dismissing you alone causes an uproar. Setting that aside…”

“Your role matters. Three backline, one frontline, one assassin. You hold the front—*that’s* why they have space to deal damage. Even kids know that.”

“And you’re a warrior, not just a tank. Critical difference. You’re strong enough to slay a dragon solo—not a punching bag. Replacing you? Nearly impossible.”

“Hm?”

“Enemies *must* account for you—that’s what creates openings. Swap you for a pure tank? They’d ignore it. Tanks have crowd control, sure—but enemies bring priests with dispels, right?”

Her terms were messy, but the point landed.

“Without you, the Demonhunt Squad drops a tier. So… the others agreed to kick you out? Are they idiots? I’m *very* curious about their reason.”

Exactly—

Arnold stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. If only I did.”