The stench of the damp, dark dungeon where the class had first arrived had finally faded, replaced by the scent of fresh air.
Everyone, Logan included, was desperate for a change, especially regarding their attire. Logan longed to strip off his sticky, sweat-soaked hoodie. The fabric clung uncomfortably to his skin, making every step feel heavier than the last. He suspected the shirt underneath was in an even worse state, and the urge to peel it all off was becoming unbearable.
He forced himself to ignore the sensory discomfort. Dwelling on it wouldn't scrub the grime away.
Instead, he focused on the hallway the three otherworlders were leading them through, grounding himself in the details of this new reality.
The ceiling soared four or five meters high, adorned with elegant crystal chandeliers hanging at measured intervals. They bathed the corridor in a brilliant, steady light, adding radiance to the sunlit path as if the castle never had to concern itself with energy costs.
The corridor itself was grand in scale. Its generous width and towering height allowed the group to spread out, transforming their procession from a forced march into something resembling a royal tour. Benches and tables rested every few meters, each decorated with fresh flowers and rich tablecloths of scarlet and gold, clearly a deliberate display of the kingdom's immense wealth.
To the left, tall windows offered breathtaking views of the castle grounds. Beyond the glass, the students caught glimpses of sprawling medieval gardens and the rising spires of nearby architecture. On the right, majestic doors lined what seemed to be a wall that stretched into infinity.
It took ten minutes to walk from the isolated tower into the main keep. Eventually, they ascended a short flight of stairs. No one spoke. They moved in silence, absorbing the opulence that now held them prisoner.
The quiet trudge ended only when the princess's voice rang out. With graceful authority, Vianell called for the maids to divide the group and lead them into separate changing rooms.
Logan, having no say in the matter, followed the maid assigned to him. She was a cute, petite girl around his age with light brown hair and a determined expression. Without ceremony, she gripped his hand firmly and pulled him along at a brisk pace, as if every second wasted was a crime.
She ushered him into a modest room and offered him a towel.
"Do… do you need assistance bathing, Hero?"
Logan noticed a slight quiver in her face; her voice was thick with embarrassment. Naturally, he declined. He didn't know her, and he certainly didn't trust her.
"No," he said simply.
"Hero? Umm… we need to leave soon. Please take your shower."
Logan didn't respond immediately. He moved slowly, his suspicion still running high. He inspected the room, still half-convinced this was an elaborate hoax or a reality TV prank with hidden cameras waiting to catch him in a vulnerable moment.
But nothing happened. The room was simple, almost rustic, featuring wooden shelves and a large tub, or perhaps "bucket" was a better term, filled with steaming water.
Curious about how hygiene worked in this world, Logan briefly considered asking the maid who waited just outside the door. He decided against it. Trusting his instincts, he scanned the room one last time for observers, then cautiously undressed.
He dipped a toe into the tub. It was perfect, hot enough to relax the muscles without scalding the skin. Smaller buckets of clean water sat nearby for rinsing. After scrubbing down and splashing himself with the clean water, he stepped fully into the bath.
Five minutes passed. The warmth slowly melted his tension. Feeling safer, Logan sank deeper into the suds and began to wash his hair. Running his fingers through the wet strands, he realized just how long his chocolate-brown hair had grown; it now trailed well past his shoulders.
He was just beginning to work through the knots when a sharp, rapid knock shattered the silence.
"I am sorry to rush you again, Hero… but the Princess asked me to hurry… you…"
"Fine, I will be out in a few!"
Logan sighed, rinsing the remaining soap from his body. He rose, doused himself with the clean water from the buckets, and grabbed a towel.
He groaned when he saw the clothing laid out for him: a simple shirt and what looked suspiciously like tights instead of proper underwear. Figuring the outer garments would be custom-fitted later, he dressed quickly and called out to the maid.
The brunette entered promptly, carrying a string to take measurements. She worked with efficient speed, then asked him to wait while his attire was prepared.
She returned shortly with three items. First, smooth white pants and a fresh white shirt. Finally, a white tunic trimmed with gold to complete the look.
Logan could tell by the texture that the material was fine silk or a magical equivalent. It was incredibly light and soft against his skin, far more comfortable than his Earth clothes. However, the outfit was a bit too loose for his taste and definitely too flashy. Even the laceless shoes felt oddly snug and supportive; a few test steps gave him the sensation that he could leap higher than normal.
The attire was classy, but one issue remained: his beanie.
Logan tried to slide his old hat on discreetly, but the maid intercepted him. She reached out, explaining it needed to be washed.
"Hero, if you don't mind," she began, her tone polite but firm. "I asked around for hats to be brought, since you were wearing one when summoned. Please decide if you want to wear one of these three. If none are suitable, I can look for others."
She presented the options: a donut-shaped cloth catastrophe, a stifling white hood that obscured everything but the eyes, and a slanted hat with a feather, leaning more toward flair than function.
Logan looked at the options, then at the maid's unreadable expression. He nearly laughed. Rather than trouble her further, he chose the feathered hat that probably made him look like Robin Hood. He adjusted it into his usual style, pulling it down so his hair obscured part of his face.
It wasn't perfect, but it was better than having his face exposed.
With no mirror in the room, he had to rely on the maid's compliments, not that he could fully rely on them for the truth. He thanked her and stepped out into the hallway to regroup.
Logan was the fourth boy to finish. The other three were already seated, dressed in nearly identical white outfits, except for one detail. Logan was the only one wearing a hat.
He couldn't avoid their stares. Their eyes lingered on the absurdity of the feather. Logan kept a composed demeanor, walked past them, and took a seat on a nearby bench. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and feigned sleep.
The illusion of solitude didn't last, though.
The sound of footsteps approaching disrupted his stillness as more of the male students entered the hallway, their casual conversations filling the space. Thankfully, none of them chose to sit near him or try to engage.
Logan remained in his resting position for about thirty minutes, trying to block out the noise around him.
Still, he couldn't help becoming absorbed in bits of a conversation that caught his attention.
As expected from teenage boys, some were whispering about how beautiful the maids looked and the fun they had while with them, while others were discussing his hat; apparently, he was the only one who had bothered to wear one in the end.
Suddenly, the chatter on the boys' side died down.
Logan opened one eye. Across the hallway, the girls had begun to arrive.
They were dressed in colorful gowns, adorned with accessories and makeup. Even shy, petite Silvia looked charming. Logan tried to look uninterested, but his gaze drifted to Lisa.
She stood at the center, easily spotted in a gleaming silver gown. Her ash-brown hair cascaded to her waist, pinned back by a delicate silver floral ornament. It was obvious the stylists had favored her; she wore noticeably more jewelry than anyone else.
Logan observed her beet-red face and downcast eyes as she stammered a polite thanks for the compliments raining down on her. He felt a strange sense of relief. This nervous, overwhelmed Lisa felt more familiar, more human, than the perfect, untouchable girl from school.
His gaze shifted. Alma stood nearby in a scarlet gown, her golden hair in a tidy bun with a fan-shaped ornament. She exuded her own natural, everyday confidence.
Then there was Ms. Claire. She wore a majestic brown gown layered with black silk, a thin gold tiara resting on her head. The dress accentuated her mature figure in a way her teaching clothes never had. But it wasn't her appearance that held Logan's attention; it was her expression.
She was staring at Princess Vianell with confusion and suspicion. Whatever words they had exchanged earlier regarding the summoning had clearly left the teacher unsettled, waiting for answers that were being deliberately delayed.
[Side Story – Ruri Holze]
One month before the summoning ritual, in a small rural town a few kilometers from the capital of Elris, a teenage girl squinted at a poster she'd bought at the market.
"Work… maid in the castle. Hero summoning."
Ruri Holze read the words slowly. Her father was a shoemaker, and her mother, a retired castle maid, had taught her basic literacy. Ruri understood the gist immediately: the castle was hiring staff to serve the coming hero.
With two older brothers already sent to the war, Ruri needed this. She wasn't a fighter. She had no mana to speak of. Her options were limited to finding a husband or finding a job that could support her aging parents.
She chose the job.
Realizing the interview date was today, Ruri bolted toward the town center, lifting her worn dress to keep it from the muddy road. She bypassed neighbors and navigated the narrow streets until she reached the bailiff's house.
After a nerve-wracking interview where she competed against the daughters of wealthy merchants, Ruri's practical skills, drilled into her by her mother, won out. She passed the background check and the medical sigil scan. She was at the end given a royal emblem and a handful of silver coins.
She left all but ten coins with her parents. With a tearful goodbye and a promise to return if things got dangerous, Ruri boarded a carriage for the capital, Midar.
For a month, she trained rigorously. She was selected as one of the top twenty maids, an honor that terrified and thrilled her.
Then came the day of the summoning.
Chaos ensued. Instead of one hero, a confused crowd of children appeared. Ruri was assigned to a boy with long, messy chocolate-colored hair.
Her first impression was poor. He was soaked in sweat, his clothes were strange and grime-ridden, and his hair hid his face like a curtain. He looked sunken, sickly, and suspicious.
Yet, as she led him to the bath, a protective instinct surged within her. She offered to help him bathe, secretly praying he would refuse; she had no idea what she'd actually do if he said yes.
To her relief, he declined.
She then rushed to the guest storage to find him clothes. When he emerged from the bath, clean and with his hair tied back, Ruri nearly dropped the tunic she was holding.
He was… stunning.
Gone was the swamp creature. In its place stood a handsome young man with unblemished skin, so unlike the scarred, weathered skin of her brothers and the village men and boys.
She flushed as she took his measurements, her pride stinging slightly when he flinched at her touch. Determined to make him look his best, she scoured the storage room until she found a white and gold tunic fit for a prince.
When he put it on, he looked radiant. But there was one problem: he wanted his old, dirty hat back.
Ruri couldn't allow this; she ran swiftly back to storage and found three hats.
She quickly devised a master plan. She deliberately chose two hideous options, a doughy cloth cap and a suffocating hood, to ensure he would pick the third option: a stylish, feathered hat with a dashing slant that reminded her of the heroes in plays.
"Hero, please choose," she had said, feigning neutrality.
He picked the feathered hat, just as she planned.
As he adjusted it, Ruri fought the urge to squeal. With the tunic, the flowing hair, and the slanted feather, he didn't look like a "loner" hiding his face. He looked like a rogue hero from the old legends, the kind who stole from the corrupt to give to the poor.
"You look perfect, Hero," she whispered, her heart hammering.
"It's very comfortable. Thanks," he muttered, completely oblivious to the image he now projected.
As he walked away, Ruri sank onto a bench, exhausted but giddy.
She entertained the idea of being more than that. Maybe, just maybe, she could become someone important to him.
Of course, she knew it was unlikely, but her imagination often went against reality.
She loved the old tales where a humble maid caught the heart of a hero or prince and became a princess.
Roland, the first hero ever summoned, had introduced such stories to this world.
Her mother, once a maid to the princess, had heard them firsthand and retold them to Ruri as bedtime tales.
Smiling at the memory, Ruri got up and returned to the bathing chamber, eager to clean up before she would need to meet the hero again later that day.