* * *

The hero still hadn’t said anything, so I asked as I trailed behind him.

I tried to sound alert to hide my sleepiness, but in doing so, my voice ended up trembling instead.

How ridiculous.

This is why they say natural is best.

Fortunately, the hero didn’t point out my awkward tone.

Thank goodness.

Well, it’s to be expected.

Unless he plans to find fault with everything, he probably doesn’t care what state I’m in.

Still, I felt a bit let down by his silence.

Lately, he’d at least given a simple answer to questions about where we were headed.

Maybe he still hadn’t forgiven me.

Should I suggest grabbing some dessert to smooth things over?

Perhaps what the hero needs isn’t a random introduction to someone new but a way to lower his guard toward others…

Damn it.

I’m so sleepy.

The world momentarily darkened before my eyes just now.

But it was just my eyes briefly closing, right?

I didn’t stagger or anything, did I?

That would be unacceptable.

The Hero is watching me.

“What’s wrong?”

“You.”

I flinched, startled. The Hero had grabbed my shoulder.

It was just a simple touch, but the spot he held tingled sharply.

He wasn’t gripping hard—this reaction was purely because I respect him so much.

The Hero, with his large build, naturally has equally large hands.

I knew this, but now that I could feel them, his long, prominent fingers seemed even more striking.

His calloused palms felt rough against me.

Ah.

Damn it, I need to get a grip.

If the Hero is holding me, I should be hyper-alert.

But instead, all I feel is overwhelming drowsiness.

It’s always like this—his presence has this strange effect on me.

Wherever the Hero is, there is hope.

Wherever the Hero is, miracles happen.

It feels like I won’t simply disappear without a trace.

When I camp out with the Hero… I’ve never had trouble staying awake like this before.

So why now, in these peaceful times?

“Hey.”

Why now…

Why, after a restless night…

“Are you alright?”

My eyes fluttered shut.

I think I hear something, but I can’t make it out.

It’s distant, muffled, like a sound coming from underwater.

Is the Hero speaking to me?

No, that can’t be.

He’s too angry for that.

“Raul.”

I’m tired.

I just want to sleep.

Wherever I was, it felt warm.

Resting against something soft brought me comfort, and my body slackened, melting into the sensation.

I vaguely felt someone lift me, but it didn’t matter.

The touch was so feather-light and careful, I drifted off again.

In that moment, all I wanted was to let go and sleep, free from any thought.

And I did, completely.

When I woke up, I felt refreshed.

But we all know this—when you wake up feeling too refreshed and light as air, it usually means something bad has happened…

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Someone, please tell me this is just a dream.

This has got to be the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.

And if it’s not a nightmare… that’s even worse.

Oh, God!

Raul Florenti woke up in the Hero’s embrace.

I tried to objectively describe the situation to lessen the shock, but it didn’t help.

…I’m doomed.

The moment I processed this horrifying situation, all I wanted to do was run away.

I mean, I wanted to say that. But I couldn’t.

The Hero was sleeping peacefully, his eyes closed, right in front of me.

If I made any loud noises or abrupt movements, I’d wake him.

That couldn’t happen.

To make matters worse, I was in his arms.

I had no idea how this happened, but apparently, the Hero had been holding me while I slept.

This couldn’t be real.

Am I dreaming?

Could this all be an illusion cast by some demon?

The Hero, who keeps everyone at arm’s length and drives away anyone who approaches him, is holding me while he sleeps?

The whole situation was so absurd that assuming it was a dream felt like the most rational explanation.

Even his face, serene in slumber, seemed too ethereal to belong to reality.

Good Lord, he’s handsome.

The slight sharpness in his features softened while he slept, making him look even more breathtaking.

It felt unfair that someone chosen by the gods, so strong and unyielding, could also be this perfect in appearance.

How could someone like him, who seems destined to be loved by all, have never experienced love?

Maybe it’s because he draws clear boundaries with people.

It’s hard to imagine how someone develops such a rigid personality without a reason behind it.

I was curious, but the Hero had never shared anything about his past.

It wasn’t just because we didn’t have time to indulge in personal stories during the chaos—it seemed more like he was simply not the type to open up.

And I doubted he’d start now.

If I ever asked how he ended up growing into someone entirely disinterested in love, I’d probably be saving that for a last resort.

Because he’s terrifying.

Actually, no—this was me avoiding the situation entirely.

What scared me most was being held by him right now.

I mean, think about it—this shouldn’t be happening.

It makes more sense to assume I’ve been ensnared by some illusion magic rather than accept the idea that the Hero decided to hold me.

What could he possibly find appealing about me to do this?

“…Mmh.”

A quiet murmur escaped his lips, and I flinched, trembling in shock.

I don’t think even an ambush would startle me this much.

My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest.

Thankfully, my movement didn’t wake him.

But still, what would I even say if he opened his eyes and looked at me?

No, damn it.

Let’s try to think positively.

If the Hero hated me, he wouldn’t have brought me into an inn while I was sleeping.

And he certainly wouldn’t have shared a bed with me.

If he were simply being kind, he could’ve left me in some cheap inn and called it a day.

But instead, he chose a soft, luxurious bed and went as far as to hold me.

This had to be a sign of goodwill, didn’t it?

Objectively, yes.

But why would the Hero do this?

When I think back on my behavior around him, all I can recall are the countless stupid things I’ve done.

Forgetting our party schedule and getting into a fight with Vasco.

Trying to figure out the Hero’s type, only to blurt out that I liked men’s chests.

Then accidentally groping him while checking his wounds, and even making him come looking for me when I overslept.

Honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t given up on me already.

If I were him, I wouldn’t bother with me, either.

Sure, I tried to flatter him with compliments, but the Hero isn’t the kind of person who’s swayed by cheap words.

If he were, he wouldn’t have remained so untouched by love all this time.

I don’t understand him, and that’s what scares me the most.

Nothing unsettles a person like an incomprehensible situation.

I clearly saw how angry he was after I introduced him to Carmen.

Sure, he accepted my apology, but an apology alone doesn’t rebuild trust.

You have to show you’re better than before to change someone’s impression of you—and I haven’t done anything to deserve that.

So why is he treating me so well…?

It’s terrifying.

That’s what I thought.

I don’t deserve this.

I’m just a selfish coward who stole someone else’s chance at life to save myself.

Receiving such kindness…

This is insane.

* * *