* * *

“What if he’s just planning to kill me in some private, agonizing way? Maybe he’s sparing me for now because killing me would inconvenience his companions, Vasco and Naike.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? If the Grim Reaper swung his sword once, he wouldn’t stop at three people—he’d wipe out three hundred!”

Her logic, unfortunately, was flawless.

“So… touching my head wasn’t a threat to rip it off but…”

Aimone’s face suddenly grew serious.

“Now that I think about it, maybe you’re not entirely wrong. What if he placed a curse that’ll make your head explode when the time comes? You’d better stay out of the inn for now.”

“‘Stay out of the inn’ doesn’t mean survive, does it? You’re saying I should die somewhere else, aren’t you!”

“If you quietly die without dragging me into it, I’ll remember you fondly. Not as a disgraceful pervert who sexually harassed the King of Adventurers and got killed, but as a good friend…”

“Don’t give up on me yet! Help me find a way to survive!”

“Ah, back off! If your head explodes, I don’t want to die too.”

For a while, Aimone and I indulged in an utterly pointless roleplay—me as the doomed adventurer about to die, her as my unconcerned friend.

By the end, it somehow turned into a session of him bragging about him “bunny-like” boyfriend, Hugo, which made it more annoying than entertaining.

“Feeling better now?” Aimone asked.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good. You’re so pitiful when you’re moping, it’s unbearable.”

“Brace yourself, because I’ll be doing more moping in the future.”

“What now?”

Because someone thoughtlessly traveled back in time, saddling me with an incredibly troublesome burden.

“I still can’t figure out why Zerbin didn’t kill me but brought me back instead.”

Of course, I didn’t say that out loud.

“Oh, about that.”

Just before heading into the bathroom, Aimone turned and casually tossed out a remark.

“Maybe he just likes you.”

---

By now, sunlight was pouring through the windows.

It was the season when the sun rose early, and morning arrived in the blink of an eye.

After a restless night of insomnia, the warm sunlight made my body feel sluggish, almost laughably so.

Maybe… just a little nap?

Even with my eyes closed, it felt like some foreign substance was stuck under my eyelids, making them sore.

I’d been running on fumes from sleep deprivation.

Now, I was so tired that I’d do anything—anything—just to rest a bit.

Anything…

The comforting fatigue and the soft darkness engulfed me.

“Raul!”

Until someone barged into my room, breaking the peace.

“Raul Florenti! Get up right now!”

No. I’m going to sleep more.

Ignoring Aimone’s yelling, I stubbornly kept my eyes shut.

Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had a proper nap?

During the entire trip to Cheps, I’d been sleeping rough every night.

Sleeping in an actual bed was sacred.

“Hey! I said get up! You have a guest!”

“If it’s not the Hero, just send them away…”

“Hero? What, are you dreaming? I said get up!”

Ugh, of course I know who the Hero is. You mean Batista Zerbin.

Wait, no.

Right now, I’m the only one who knows he’s the Hero.

I came back in time, after all.

That means I’ll have to reintroduce him as such.

If it’s not Zerbin, send them away.

That’s what I wanted to say, but my body, half-asleep, refused to cooperate.

My lips moved, then stopped.

My adventurer’s instincts screamed at me: ‘Sleep now, or suffer.’

Sleep deprivation is its own form of torture.

“You idiot!”

Argh.

That doesn’t mean you have to kick me.

Who on earth came to visit?

It couldn’t be Vasco or Naike; Aimone wouldn’t get worked up over them.

Aimone was supposed to leave today for a trip with her boyfriend, Hugo.

By now, she should’ve been too busy doing her makeup to bother with me.

Wait a second…

There’s only one person who could stir her into action.

My eyes shot open.

“It’s Zerbin!”

Oh no.

The moment I heard that, my drowsiness evaporated.

I threw off the blanket and scrambled to my feet.

My eyes stung, and I rubbed them furiously while pulling on clothes.

Damn it, my hair’s a mess.

Do I look okay?

Since my skills and personality are garbage, I need to at least look presentable!

“How do I look?”

“Does that even matter? You’re not going to leave Death himself standing at the door, are you? Go offer him tea or something!”

“It matters!”

I snapped, panic making my voice sharper than I intended.

This was my last chance.

If Zerbin told me, “You look terrible, go back to sleep,” I’d be utterly devastated.

But this wasn’t the way to thank Aimone, who’d gone out of her way to wake me up.

“Sorry. I’m just flustered. You wouldn’t want to look pathetic in front of someone you admire, right?”

“…Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“Of course not!”

Aimone stared at me intently.

His gaze lingered on my face, and I couldn’t help but feel burdened by the weight of it.

Since I was the one who asked for his opinion, I forced myself to endure it.

“Your messy hair can be fixed with a comb, and the lifeless look in your eyes? Just call it ‘seductive decadence,’ and you’ll be fine.”

Aimone’s finger lightly traced under my eye—a surprisingly gentle touch for someone with hands accustomed to the rough life of an adventurer.

I flinched at the sudden kindness, the stark contrast to his earlier brusqueness when he’d kicked me awake.

“The shadows under your eyes are too severe. Are you even getting proper sleep?”

“Does anyone sleep well while camping outdoors? I’ve slept as much as I could. More importantly, does it look that bad?”

Aimone still seemed like he had more to say, but in reality, now wasn’t the time to discuss my eye bags.

We had an important guest to meet.

Finally, after pulling a disgruntled face for a moment, Aimone sighed in defeat.

“Forget it. Yeah, you look a little dull, but as long as they don’t know you when you’re at your best, you’ll pass. After all, you’re handsome.”

“Handsome, huh?”

“You already know that, so why ask? You’ve got that rakish, sexy look going for you. Even looking a bit gaunt suits you somehow. Anyway, enough chatter—get ready already.”

Oh, thank goodness.

Lately, I’ve found myself feeling more and more grateful to my parents.

I might wish they had made me just a little tougher, but that’d be greedy of me.

I’m an adventurer, but my parents?

Just simple shopkeepers by the harbor.

Using the comb Aimone handed me, I tidied my hair just enough to look presentable.

Then, I gathered my black hair and secured it with a gold ornament.

“I love you, Aimone!”

“I prefer Hugo.”

“Safe travels!”

Aimone opened his mouth as if to say more, but I couldn’t afford to linger.

Throwing on my coat, I dashed out the door.

“Sorry! I’m really sorry for keeping you waiting!”

I dreaded what expression the hero would have on his face.

But avoiding him after making him wait was out of the question, so I mustered my courage and met his eyes.

As always, his cool gray gaze gave nothing away, leaving me unable to decipher what he was thinking.

Because of his towering height, most people had no choice but to look up at him.

That height, combined with his aloof demeanor, often made others accuse him of being arrogant and condescending.

But I’ve always liked the hero’s steady gaze.

It’s an eye I can trust.

…Though now’s not the time to be thinking about that.

Come to think of it, why did the hero come to my house in the first place?

And how does he even know where I live?

I guess, being so sociable, there aren’t many adventurers who don’t know my address.

But I’ve never told the hero.

Did he ask around?

But why?

“You’re late.”

The hero spoke.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…”

“…”

Great. I’ll interpret that myself.

I already apologized for making him wait.

Did he mention it again because he wants me to apologize more?

It’d make sense if he was really mad, but his face lacked any strong negative emotions—it was just stoic as always.

Having spent some time traveling with him, I’ve gotten a bit better at sensing his moods.

People express their feelings through actions, even when their faces don’t change.

Honestly, if he were truly upset about waiting, he would’ve left long before now.

He’s not the type to stick around unnecessarily.

So why did he wait?

And if it wasn’t about the wait, then…

* * *