Back to Routine. This World's Totally Screwed!
Clutching the spent Constellation Ticket like a gambler who'd blown his family's fortune at the casino, I wailed in despair. I'd never imagined sinking this low as a gambling addict. They say normal people get skills through effort... Doesn't this damn random skill system have some kind of pity timer?!
But my despair didn't last long. Thinking about it, there was a skill that acted like a pity timer—after 300 pulls, it guaranteed an ability. On the way back, maybe I should grab a Ouija board or something... I think I saw one at the magic tool shop.
"Radamu! What the hell is that arm?!"
"Big bro, what the heck did you fight?!"
Larirarion stomped her feet in fury at the sight of my bandaged arm, which looked like it'd been grafted from a shriveled, hideous mummy with peeled-back skin. It took Hyacinth charging in to calm her down after she bellowed that she'd personally lop off that monster's head.
After that, she alternated glances between the Levitfoot and the young Feridae kid who'd come with me, crossed her arms, and gave me an approving look—like, not bad at all.
"You've got some real talent, Radamu. Hmm, hmm... Yeah, big family communal childcare really is the way to go."
"What kind of misunderstanding is that?"
"Just in case you didn't know—I'm a guy☆?"
Riko-chan winked, lightly pinching the hem of her miniskirt to flash a glimpse of her pristine hips. Hyacinth averted his eyes with a lifeless stare. Larirarion, who apparently knew zilch about Riko-chan, froze solid.
But that only lasted a moment. She crossed her arms, took a calm, deep breath, and asked quietly, "That outfit... Is it traditional Levitfoot attire?"
"To be blunt? It's my hobby."
"Have you seen this crazy homo bastard?!"
"Kyaa, darling, you're scaring me~"
Riko-chan lunged into my arms with a hug, only for a shovel blade to come flying straight at her face. She stuck out her tongue with a bleh, hopped nimbly out of the way, and perched one-footed on the back of a chair, waving cheekily. Larirarion's eyes had fully rolled back by then; it took Hyacinth and me forcibly seating her and waiting a solid 15 minutes for her rage to finally subside.
"You talking about that Evil God subjugation? Yeah, I heard. Hero's return or whatever... Better if no heroes show up. Gods don't call them unless we really need one."
Larirarion grimaced, sharing her view that heroes were pretty much harbingers of disaster. She wasn't wrong—the goddess wouldn't have summoned me if the scales of fate weren't tipping, and I wouldn't be here. But at the same time, she unexpectedly praised heroes as miraculous symbols of value and hope, pointing busily at the bustling street.
"The Trust Union has the most abnormal structure on the entire Chronicle Continent. Sure, over time, the four heroes' reclaimed lands split for various reasons, but it still holds the biggest influence. Adventurers can retire, start villages with their party, live quietly back home, skip affiliations if they're tired of it—or join a guild and take desk jobs post-retirement. The union even recommends jobs."
The Trust Union was a massive, freakish city—a patchwork of what the four heroes built. You could found cities or villages if you wanted, and with enough recognition and cash from the union, even declare a kingdom and call yourself king. They checked each other in a web of kings, guild masters, and adventurer union heads helping, exchanging, debating ideas for progress, and issuing warnings. Linked to the Pansinjeon, it housed countless gods, fostering a world where helping each other selflessly was the norm.
That's what the Trust Union was right now. Not perfect, but paradise compared to the continent outside. Though the union's front lines were busy with territory grabs, petty squabbles, and wars against those asshole elves every damn day.
"It's a nation made by heroes. If there's a king here, it's the heroes and the gods. That's why heroes are like massive symbols."
Yeah, and one of them's your boyfriend right now. Better save that bombshell for when she's mentally prepped— she'd probably faint.
Hyacinth kept fretting over my injured arm, wondering if it was a Hands Collector run-in. Meanwhile, Riko-chan unpacked her stuff into our party's newly rebuilt base, thanks to insurance.
Larirarion shook her head furiously. "I can't accept a cross-dressing dude like that!"
"I'm begging you, please."
"No!"
"Sis..."
"...Well, he's a guy, so whatever... So, you the pitcher or the catcher?"
"...Larirarion sis. Where do you even learn stuff like that?"
"...Uh, well, Trust Union's full of all kinds of sights, so I got bored and saw some—ahem."
Her face beet-red, she yelled that she just knew a bit and shoved my chest with her palm. Pouting, she shoved her head in for pets. I scooped her up and plopped her on my lap. Her rabbit eyes spun like crazy; she cupped her face with both hands, let out a cute squeak through gritted teeth, buried her face in my chest—and promptly nosebled.
"...Seriously, how bad's your tolerance for guys?"
"Hyacinth, reflect on yourself looking at Riko-chan."
"..."
Not like you're one to talk, nose-flaring over a dude.
"And what's with calling him Riko-chan?!" Larirarion bellowed.
Nothing ever went quietly. Riko-chan descended from upstairs in a loose hoodie that made it look like she wasn't wearing pants, flashing a V-sign and calling it a nickname—which just poured oil on the fire.
"Call me one too! Call me Larirarion-chan!" She stomped and shrieked, then got embarrassed and screeched, "No, don't call me that—call me sis!"
"......"
Leona plugged her ears, face twisted. I asked Larirarion to mind the 9-year-old girl—especially since I hadn't brought her as a wife prospect.
"Call her mommy."
Hyacinth pistol-whipped the back of her head with his pistol-sword.
"Why?! Kids need a mother's love! If I'm wrong, say it!"
"Doesn't the hit hurt?"
"That gun's busted now—buy a new one."
Hyacinth wailed over his brand-new dented pistol-sword, flopping face-down on the table. Larirarion thumped her chest, insisting mommies mattered most, hugged Leona tight, nuzzled her, and beamed that she'd take good care of her from now on.
"You reek of booze..."
Two seconds later, Leona's quip floored her into sobs. "What's wrong with a dwarf smelling like booze?! Radamu's gone, so this old auntie dwarf's been boozing daily and slacking—waaaah!"
Sniffling that women get more teary with age, I spotted Riko—now lounging at the table with legs crossed, sipping wine from a glass she'd poured from the bottle I'd bought on the way—shaking her head with a chuckle. "Women, am I right?"
I headed upstairs to show Leona her room. Our shared third-floor spot had been split into empties—probably Larirarion's doing with the party growing. Not a ton of rooms, so I suggested bunking with me for a bit; she didn't object. I'd buy clothes and books, but anything else she wanted, just say the word. Cradling her, I descended to the lobby mess.
"Mentor! Radamu, long time! Mmm~ Humans are so warm~"
Po'runga must've heard and dashed over, squeezing me tight. Leona gasped she was suffocating; Po'runga backed off with apologies.
Behind her: Noksu the receptionist with frameless glasses and woolly hair, and Nex carrying her own head tucked under her arm.
Seemed spacious for two, but with everyone, it cramped quick.
"Seriously, don't push yourself... Is the arm treatment that tough?"
Worried Noksu called Nex to heal it. An expensive potion grew some fresh flesh, but even her holy skills struggled. The two fretted it might never work again. Po'runga quipped if we just chopped it, would it regrow?—earning a kick from Larirarion.
"Your party's really filling up the base. From today, I'm Radamu's assigned receptionist. We'll start with a party name and plan step by step."
"What about Rokuka?"
"She's Po'runga's dedicated. Now, this isn't your party—out you go~ C-grade can't enter per regs."
"Wait! That priestess is B-grade! And I'm the mentor?!"
"Tch."
"She clicked her tongue, that demon?!"
Noksu smoothly booted them; once settled, she tsked and yielded her chair, saying do as they please. Party assigned receptionists? Larirarion explained they existed but were a hassle—counted as party members, so revenue shares, and low-grades skipped 'em. So mine were still Rokuka and mentor Po'runga.
"Considering your Magic Palace feats, you're E-grade~"
Nex even popped champagne for real. She advised registering Leona as F-grade adventurer exploited a loophole—no kid-rearing in union, but bases were fine. Rattling grew fast; at 9, she'd pass as adult. Audits were risky without family proofs and proper care docs, but doable. She wrapped the shady loophole nicely.
How's she know exploit deets and audit risks?
"And Hyacinth can challenge full C-grade. Good luck! Oh, Larirarion too."
Same F-grade start, but Larirarion leaped grades to D despite wiped achievements—sweeping every quest while I was gone, banking huge for base, insurance, even wedding/kid funds. Flashing her adventurer ID's fat savings, she bragged she could live buried in big sis's skirts, oozing confidence.
"I earned more than him."
Po'runga shoved her wealth in, unwilling to lose. Larirarion jabbed Po'runga's wallet had holes from booze; Po'runga eyed my hand like a snake on prey, chomping passionately. Noksu cleared her throat, flashing an ID with 20x their combined fortunes.
"So, welcome back to Trust Union... E-grade quests?"
"Hold up! I got a good one! There's a mountain with healing hot springs. Go recover max? Whole party's going, right?"
"You're not party."
Thud-crash— Larirarion flipped out, vowing never if Po'runga tagged along. They tangled, yanking hair, punching, brawling ugly. Noksu, unfazed, explained the E-quest Po'runga brought: simple survey, arm-friendly, listed essentials.
"P.S. Already submitted Larirarion and Hyacinth's C-grade exam apps—they can't go. Guard the base?"
"Huh?"
Hyacinth studied quietly, knowing. Larirarion panicked; Noksu silenced her with a throat-slash mime. Reading Po'runga too, bags packed, she grinned: "Ready to head out?"
"...Glad you look unscathed, Radamu."
Nex finally greeted me after her silence.
Is our party really okay?