* * *

The Hero was standing between us.

Everyone becomes surprisingly good at controlling their anger in front of the Hero.

Probably because they know that even if they punched me, I’d barely feel a tap, whereas the Hero’s counterattack could utterly destroy them.

It’s just a difference in class.

When I opened my eyes, the Hero really was standing in front of me.

Why? Why?

Was it because he didn’t want me to pass out before I could take him to that amazing roast restaurant?

As I stood there, dumbfounded, Vasco glared at me and shot me a look.

‘You insane playboy, did you seduce even that monster?!’

‘No, I didn’t! I have no idea what’s happening!’

‘Then what the hell is going on?!’

‘I told you, I don’t know! And I’m not a playboy…!’

Oh. Even though we are not talking, I know this was going to be our conversation.

Maybe the Hero thought this was my “trouble.”

That I’d taken on a job beyond my capabilities because I needed money, couldn’t complete it, and ended up in debt.

So now he’s trying to save me from this mess, probably planning to toss me some spare change from his overflowing coffers and then ditch me.

I can’t let that happen!

I quickly stepped in front of the Hero.

“Zerbin? Thank you—really, thank you so much—but this is my problem. Please let me handle it. I’ll even draw you a map to the roast restaurant. Go enjoy your meal.”

I pulled out a notebook and sketched a rough map.

The notebook was actually meant for jotting down ways to get closer to the Hero, but now I was using it to send him away.

My chest ached.

Still, he’d probably be there if I stopped by the restaurant later, right?

After handing him the note, I noticed he was looking at me with a strangely betrayed expression.

“W-why?”

“So it was true.”

“Huh?”

Wait. Could it be?

Did the Hero actually believe in me?

Did he think I’d gotten tangled up in some nasty trouble and stepped in because he thought I’d get hurt?

How could such an absurdly touching scenario be real?

And here I was, metaphorically stabbing the trusting Hero in the back.

I could only watch as the Hero walked away without looking back, his broad shoulders retreating steadily.

I wanted to punch myself in the head.

‘We were actually getting along just a moment ago. I even thought I could reel him in with my charm! This is all my damn karma.’

When the Hero was finally out of sight, Vasco grabbed me by the collar.

“You’re gonna fix this! Sell your body if you have to, but make it right!”

The sheer absurdity of Vasco still trying to gauge the Hero’s reaction was hilarious, but I suppressed a grin and tried to muster the same despairing look I’d worn while cooped up in my room.

“I’m sorry. I really was so shocked about something that I forgot. I’m not lying—ask Aimone if you don’t believe me.”

“‘Sorry’? ‘Sorry’ fixes everything? What about my breach of contract penalty?! I’m one step away from being dismembered and sold as alchemy ingredients!”

What a grim future plan.

The wealthier someone is, the more brutal they get.

“I’ll pay all the penalties. And you can say the hit to your reputation was my fault, too.”

“What?”

I’ve been saving money in the adventurers’ guild vault since I first started this job.

Sure, I’ve skipped a few months blowing cash on drinks and indulgences, but I’ve mostly been diligent.

It’s a shame.

Honestly, I could cry.

But humanity’s extinction is three years away, while Vasco’s limbs seem likely to be dismantled much sooner. Priorities.

Money won’t matter once the war breaks out in six months anyway… right?

This is the right choice, even the Hero would agree.

Then why am I tearing up?

“Are you crying, you idiot? Are you seriously crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

I wiped my face furiously.

“You’re literally bawling—wait, hold on. Are you seriously paying everything? Your entire fortune?”

I nodded. What else could I say?

My voice would probably crack if I tried to talk through the lump in my throat.

Vasco gawked at me.

Why’s he looking at me like that?

Does he think this is the first time someone’s cried over money?

Even the head of the Hessler family would be sobbing in my shoes.

“Don’t tell me… you’re sick?”

What kind of nonsense is that?

“Is it a terminal illness? Did the healer say you’ll die in a few months?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Then say something now, you bastard!”

If it wasn’t true, why would I say it? Just listen for once…

Though, come to think of it, it might not be entirely wrong.

I mean, a terminal illness is something that can’t be cured, and the person inevitably dies from it, right?

Well, humanity is doomed to die in three years unless the Hero discovers true love.

In that sense, all of humanity is currently living on borrowed time.

‘Knowing that already was unsettling, but saying it out loud is even more terrifying.’

The only silver lining is that this is conditional.

If the Hero discovers true love, they’ll be able to wield the holy sword, giving humanity a fighting chance.

But the fact that it’s up to me?

I’ve never experienced “true love” myself, yet I’m supposed to help someone else find it?

In all my time as an adventurer, I’ve never faced a task so ill-suited to my abilities.

It’s utterly overwhelming.

I can’t help but sigh.

Still, I have to try.

What else can I do?

“…Damn it!”

Suddenly, Vasco grabbed me by the collar and shoved me.

What the—?

The force made me cough a bit as my throat tightened.

“If you’re in pain, just say so! Do you want to make me a murderer?!”

“I never said I was in pain, though?”

“You’re not in pain, but you’re organizing your assets? You’re perfectly fine, yet you’re looking at me with those resigned eyes?!”

Now that he’s put it that way, it does sound suspicious.

But calling something that isn’t a terminal illness a terminal illness?

I can’t do that.

“You’re misunderstanding—”

“Get lost, you bastard!”

But before I could explain, Vasco stormed off in a fury, leaving me with no chance to clarify.

I shouted after him, insisting it was a misunderstanding, but he didn’t even look back—just like the Hero.

At the very least, he should take the money, shouldn’t he?

He said he was on the verge of falling apart.

‘…Well, if it’s urgent, he’ll come back.’

If he doesn’t need to strip me bare right now, my priority is dealing with the Hero.

Is he eating now?

I turned to head to the restaurant, but the Hero was already behind me.

“Ah!”

Why is there no sound when he approaches?

And wasn’t he supposed to have left earlier?

My heart pounded furiously, and I pressed a hand against my chest to calm its frantic beating.

“Oh, you’re still here?”

“Are you unwell?”

Did he hear something and come back?

“No.”

I told the truth.

It’s the absolute truth.

I’m not unwell.

If anything’s hurting, it’s my conscience.

Every time I see the Hero, it prickles just a little.

“Do you need medicine?”

He doesn’t believe me either…

Was it such an absurd decision for an adventurer to use his entire fortune to pay off a penalty fee?

Maybe deciding to shoulder it all myself was too much.

I wanted to settle it quietly since it was my mistake.

Normally, I’d argue that he could just find another party member, but adventurers often make promises one day and die to an ogre’s axe the next.

It’s not an unusual profession.

If he doesn’t come back, I’ll give up when the time feels right and go on with the quest.

“No, really. Anyway, you must be hungry. Were you waiting for me? You should’ve just left. What if you faint again?”

“I won’t collapse just because my meal is a bit late.”

So, he was waiting for me? Or am I reading too much into it?

Either way, my chest tingled slightly.

Even though he seemed to constantly look for a way to cancel the deal, he’d still kept his promise to stay with me for a week.

At least my efforts weren’t in vain.

My tear ducts, already weakened, felt like they might overflow again.

I blinked hard to hold them back.

“Thanks for waiting.”

The Hero said nothing.

The silence stretched on, making me feel a bit awkward.

Was he too hungry to respond?

* * *