Love at first sight—this phrase felt utterly foreign to Bell.
At least in his grandfather's tales of heroes, no matter how many beautiful maidens appeared, there was never a story of instant infatuation. A hero's romance was always intertwined with adventure; to fall in love at first meeting would seem far too frivolous.
By any rational measure, this was a moment to keep his distance—to learn more about the other person before anything else.
But Bell Cranel was the kind of man who stepped forward when the moment called for it.
"At least right now," he said honestly, "I believe in love at first sight."
A hero must never retreat—especially not before a kind and lovely girl.
"So if someone confessed to you the moment you met, how would you respond?"
Heith stepped closer. The sweet scent around her carried a faint trace of warmth and shyness—a fragrance of herbs, honey, violets, and something that was uniquely her.
Bell could almost see her in a field of flowers, brewing potions, tending to the wounded.
He let himself be drawn into the hazy air between them, answering her question not with words, but with action.
He slowly reached out his hands, but before he could touch her pink hair, Heith shyly took a step back.
"That would depend on who it is."
"Then what if it were me..."
Before she could finish, Bell lightly flicked her forehead.
"Words like that shouldn't come from someone trembling and hiding sadness in their eyes. If something's bothering you, you can tell me."
After speaking with her face-to-face, Bell could tell she was forcing herself. There was no trace of genuine affection in her gaze.
Heith's heart skipped a beat.
The white-haired boy before her was nothing like the thoughtless adventurers she usually met. Though still a novice, his perceptiveness was unusually sharp.
"Was my joke that obvious?" she asked, brushing back the strands of hair the wind had scattered, pretending to stay calm.
"You're perfect in many ways," Bell said with a soft smile, "but your eyes don't lie."
He didn't press her further. He knew it hadn't been a casual remark—it was a test, carefully worded for a reason he couldn't yet understand.
"If the other person's eyes were flawless too, what would you do then?" Heith turned her gaze toward the towering Babel Tower.
"I don't think such a person exists."
In the city of Orario, filled with powerful adventurers, Bell was just another low-level rookie. If someone truly fell in love at first sight, it certainly wouldn't be with someone like him—the one everyone mocked.
"In this city, anything's possible," Heith said thoughtfully. "The person who confesses to you might be an ordinary tavern girl, or even a god high above. When that time comes, will you be able to give the right answer?"
It was her first time discussing such things with a man. Though a bit embarrassed, she didn't feel the usual awkwardness such conversations brought.
Compared to the reckless, empty-headed adventurers she usually dealt with, Bell's sincerity was oddly comforting.
"No matter what," Bell replied, locking eyes with her, "I won't give an answer that would make a girl cry."
Heith blinked, then smiled softly. "I was only joking. Why take it so seriously? But don't you think that ideal of yours is a bit hard to live up to?"
"Precisely because it's hard," Bell said, "it's worth striving for."
His goal was a thorn-covered path—the kind that every hero feared to tread.
"I'm going to be a hero—how could something so trivial bother me?"
"Eh~ But no hero ever collapses on the first floor of the Dungeon, right?" Heith hit Bell's sore spot.
"Laugh if you want. I don't care." Bell turned and strode toward the Dungeon entrance.
"I wouldn't laugh at you," Heith said softly. "Rather than just watching from the sidelines, falling again and again, and still getting back up each time—that's the kind of adventurer I admire."
"But there must be some who've never failed, right?"
Bell recalled the legend of the Sword Princess, who had reached Level 2 in just a year—one of Orario's living legends.
"That's impossible. The higher the adventurer's level, the more times they've fallen," Heith replied. Her words didn't sound like something said just to encourage him—they carried the weight of personal experience.
"You sure know a lot for just a Level 2."
"Well... I heard all that from my seniors." Heith answered in a rush, accidentally biting her tongue in the process.
Bell chuckled quietly. It seemed Heith wasn't very good at lying.
First she asked about love at first sight, and now she was hiding her own experiences. Her intentions were difficult to read.
A high-level adventurer disguising her identity just to meet a rookie like him on the Dungeon's first floor? That was nothing more than a daydream.
Regardless, since she'd been sent by the gods as support, there was probably nothing to worry about.
...
The Dungeon's scenery was as monotonous as ever, its dark green walls stretching endlessly like a curtain.
Bell was already used to the sight. "Just focus on protecting yourself. Leave the monsters to me."
Heith gave a quiet nod, clutching her staff as she followed close behind.
Drip.
A droplet of water fell from the ceiling. Goblins appeared ahead on the path—one, two, three of them—each gripping a club, their twisted faces contorted with hostility.
Heith watched Bell silently.
As a healer, she understood the human body well. Even through his clothes, she could tell Bell had been training hard. The boy's dream of becoming a hero clearly wasn't just empty talk.
If that was the case... why had he fallen so easily before?
As that thought flickered through her mind, Bell lowered his stance and dashed forward. His movements were fluid and precise.
He avoided the direct swing of a club, using his own body as bait to lure the Goblins into attacking one another. Then, in the instant they faltered, he drove his dagger forward, striking true.
In less than ten seconds, three small Magic Stones lay scattered across the ground.
Heith stared intently. She felt she'd just glimpsed what made Bell different from others.
This was far beyond the skill level of any beginner adventurer.
Bell weaved through the Goblins' furious assault with sharp, calculated movements. Each swing of his blade only deepened Heith's confusion.
His technique was refined—clearly the result of long, grueling practice.
If he had been defeated on the first floor, then it must have been because his ability scores were holding him back.
But that in itself made no sense.
Everyone knew that the Falna granted by the gods was perfectly fair—effort always equaled reward.
The only possible explanation was that Bell's abilities were somehow being restrained.
But could that even happen?
Heith stared at Bell in stunned silence. If her suspicion was true, it was far too cruel for someone chasing the path of a hero.
Perhaps she was too caught up in thought—so much so that the Dungeon took it as an opening.
A Goblin appeared silently behind her. Bell spun around, throwing his dagger as he lunged toward her.
"Watch out!"
The Goblin dissolved into black mist. Its spiked club clattered to the ground, striking Bell squarely on the back.
"Are you okay?" Bell shielded Heith with his body, completely ignoring the sharp pain spreading across his back.
"I'm fine."
Their faces were only inches apart. Heith's cheeks flushed crimson, her voice unsteady and tinged with shy panic.
"C-could you get up first?"