"I just got a royal dispatch to Ettal! Fate's screaming we're meant to party up!"
"Fate can shut it. I'm not joining. We're strangers—stop acting like we're buddies."
Letty's grin didn't flicker. "Best joke ever! Nobody else has eyes that *permanently* foggy. Sign here—boom, party time!"
She shoved the contract under my nose, pink hair bouncing like a sugar-rushed puppy. The parchment smelled like victory to her, doom to me.
Tear it. Burn it. Frame it as modern art—anything but *sign* it.
This was rock-bottom. Twelve days of hero-stalking had cost me three kilos, endless pinky-stubbing karma, and the creeping feeling I was being watched from every shadow. My life was a cosmic prank.
Letty's garnet eyes sparkled with weaponized hope. The other guards—hardened vets—whispered:
"That the [Attack] Hero?"
"D-rank copper plate? Why's *she* slumming it?"
A voice cut through: "Letty, *that's* your mystery powerhouse?"
The speaker was an elf—long scarlet hair pinned with silver clips, ears sharp enough to slice bread. Fiery eyes sized me up like a butcher eyeing steak.
"Yes! He's *insanely* strong!"
"Doesn't look it," she snorted. "Zero aura, zero dignity, motivation in the negatives."
"You're roasting me alive."
"Complimenting," she corrected. "Strength hides in the laziest shells."
The second girl—pale aqua hair, white robes, hood shadowing a porcelain face—muttered, "Doesn't look strong."
Eve. Voice flat as week-old ale. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Healing specialist. Blank stare, zero enthusiasm. *Soul sister.*
"Names?" the elf prompted.
Letty blinked. "Wait—I never caught his!"
"Why am I not surprised…"
I sighed. Fake names were pointless; guild records would rat me out.
"Jirei Laro. D-rank. Special skill: instant nap anywhere. Hobby: sleep. Here for the escort coin—nothing more."
Letty bounced. "Letinoa Innocent! [Attack] Hero! Loves sweets, hates veggies!"
Eve: "Eve Dulquis." Turned away. *Mic drop.*
Elf last: "Lina Untetman. A-rank mage. Letty's current leash-holder."
Seventeen by looks—elf years were a scam. A-rank at that age screamed prodigy.
Then it hit me.
I leaned in, whisper-soft: "Untetman… *Crimson Lotus* lineage?"
Lina's eyes flashed—surprise, then predatory glee. "Someone's done homework."
Poker face: on. "Heard rumors from a Holy Seal nerd."
Her excitement fizzled. "Boring."
*Close call.*
**Shar Untetman**—fifth-gen hero, Demon-King-slayer at seventeen. Erased from history. Why? Her family: royal assassins. Shadows don't get statues.
I met Shar centuries ago—mid-nap, knife at my throat. Woke up, flipped her, pummeled a 500-year-old elf into a crying mess. She spilled *everything* between sobs:
- "I wanted to bake cakes, not bodies!"
- "Brothers scare me!"
- "Let me marry a nice guy and eat sugar forever!"
Gave her a candy. First sweet she'd ever tasted.
Shar rolled the candy between her cheeks like a squirrel, happily enjoying her first taste of sweetness. I can still remember the look of despair on her face when it melted away.
After that, I hid Shar for a while after she had failed in her assassination attempt and had nowhere to return to, and taught her how to live together. Shar had grown into a full-fledged adult, and she was made an apprentice to a confectioner, but when he tried to leave, she didn't want him to... and well, a lot happened.
Anyway, what I found out was that the red-haired girl with elf ears in front of me was a member of the Antetman family.
According to what Shar heard, the Antetman family has a strong fighting spirit and enjoys fighting strong people. It would be terrible to get involved with such troublesome people.
--I decided to avoid getting involved with Lina Untetman as much as possible. If I don't get involved, I'll probably be fine.