Romance Fantasy Protagonist Appears?
The airship hijacking by the Red Dawn Society ended up fizzling out rather anticlimactically.
It was only natural, considering the insurmountable gap in strength between them and me from the start.
Upon safely arriving in the Imperial Capital, the sight that greeted me was a frenzy of reporters swarming the airport.
"...Landing from the front entrance would waste a ton of time, huh?"
"Yes. Even conservatively, it'd take over two hours."
Mist's firm confirmation had me racking my brains.
Stepping out the front now would inevitably drag me into a hassle, plain as day.
The guy who thwarted the airship terrorist attack?
Snagging that title felt like it would invite a avalanche of annoyances.
"If it's troublesome, how about my suggestion?"
As I pondered how to extricate myself from this mess, Mist's voice chimed in.
Turning to look at her, she silently pointed at the captain, who had just disembarked and was sighing in relief at the airport.
"Using him should let you slip away quite smoothly."
Use the captain?
In response to my reaction, she slowly explained how to make use of him.
"Hire him."
Listening quietly, I nodded at her surprisingly credible plan and approached the captain.
⋯
Hiss—
With the distinctive hiss of steam, the airship's door slowly creaked open.
As the door parted, the magic circle embedded in it activated, forming a set of makeshift stairs.
The captain swallowed dryly, descended the steps, and walked toward the reporters crowding the airship.
'Why the hell did I agree to this?'
Eyes bloodshot, the reporters charged at him the moment he appeared. Sighing in regret, the captain began fielding their questions.
"Dale News! How's the situation unfolding, and how did you manage to land safely..."
"Out of the way! What's the casualty count? I heard crew members were killed!"
"Hey, come on! Let me ask something too!!"
It was pandemonium—a pack of journalists turned feral by the scent of a scoop.
The captain floundered, trying to calm them, but they weren't the type to heed a mere airship captain, noble or not.
Just then, amid the sea of reporters...
Swish.
"Huh?"
"What?"
"No, senior. Looks like two people just hurried out from the back—over there by the crew entrance."
A reporter spotted figures emerging not from the main front hatch, but the staff-only side door.
His senior colleague shrugged it off casually.
"Terror attack, duh. Probably calling in extra hands."
Doctors or priests, that sort of thing.
"Ah..."
The junior nodded in understanding.
'But they moved too fast for just crew.'
***
The plan was dead simple.
The captain draws all the reporters' aggro from the front.
Mist and I slip out the staff exit in crew uniforms.
That was it.
While the captain held their attention as planned, Mist and I made our escape. We moved to a deserted spot and stopped.
Everything had gone perfectly.
Or it had.
The snag? They had a men's crew uniform that fit me fine, but nothing for her build in stewardess attire.
"You okay?"
I eyed her up and down in the stewardess outfit.
I'd had a bad feeling when she first changed, but after rushing around, it was a disaster.
Her chest strained against the fabric like it might burst any second.
Every breath revealed a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage between the buttons—highly provocative.
Glancing lower, her lower half was even riskier.
No skirt sized for her sturdy thighs; it looked ready to split at the seams.
"...No."
To my question, Mist pressed down instinctively on the skirt that seemed one wrong move from shredding.
Riiip—
The fabric screamed in protest at her motion.
Hearing that, she froze like a statue.
Even someone as extraordinary as her in every way couldn't handle clothes on the verge of exploding.
I pointed at the bag she held—stuffed with our original clothes.
"Wanna change first?"
"...Yes..."
Swish.
I turned my back, shielding her with my body.
My smoke was invisible to normals, but cloaking her fully in it wasn't feasible here. Body block it was.
Swish, rustle.
I ignored the imagination-stirring sounds of fabric against skin, scanning the surroundings to distract myself.
'Priests?'
A odd sense of dissonance hit me at the sight of numerous figures in pristine white priest robes sprinting toward the airship's landing zone.
Priests in the capital? Sure, made sense.
In this world, priests often doubled as doctors, so mobilizing for a terror incident was par for the course.
'But... way too many.'
Yet the numbers exceeded my expectations—easily over a hundred.
Did the capital have that many priests? Sure, possible—but enough to strip patients and temples bare in an emergency?
"Hmm..."
"Master Abel?"
As I watched the priests swarm, Mist's voice came from behind.
Turning, I saw her back in her usual maid outfit.
"Hmm?"
"...Is something wrong?"
Did my silent inspection of her maid attire weird her out? She tilted her head slightly and asked.
Grinning mischievously, I replied.
"Nah, just a bit disappointed."
"Pardon...?"
"The stewardess getup suited you. I liked it."
A petty revenge for her usual lingering stares.
She looked momentarily baffled, as if I'd spoken in tongues.
Amused, I loosened the tight crew necktie and stepped forward.
"Let's move. Breck's waiting."
"Yes... One question before we go."
Was it my imagination? A faint heat edged her emotionless tone.
"Yeah?"
"Was that outfit to your taste, Master Abel?"
Turning at her words, her eyes held a subtle intensity.
She'd hiked up the hem of her maid skirt slightly, gripping her chest—irresistibly alluring, even to me.
"..."
"Just kidding."
Caught off guard, I stared blankly as she reverted to her stoic mask.
"A mere maid's jest—forgive me."
"Hah!"
Still insisting she was just a normal maid.
I snorted lightly and headed out of the airport.
***
Breaking! Airship Hijackers Kill Multiple Crew?!
The Noble Who Captured the Airship Terrorists: Heir to the Underworld Kings, Nebla Duke Family?
Nebula Duke Family Breaks Silence and Resumes Activity—Rumors of No Heir Were Just That?
The Dale News—a utterly mundane mid-tier paper, one of countless in the capital.
But its true face? A front for the underworld info brokers, the Nostra family capital branch.
"So, how's it feel to go from zero to hero in a heartbeat?"
Breck smirked, one corner of his mouth curling as he teased me.
Obvious attempt to rile me up.
Before him lay a fresh-off-the-press extra edition, packed with the incident coverage.
A parade of sensational, headache-inducing headlines from my perspective.
Already annoyed from the flight's complications...
"Dunno. Right now, I just wanna gouge out the eye of the cyclops grinning in front of me."
I'd normally brush it off, but I bit back this time.
To show I meant it, I exhaled stored smoke from my body, threatening him.
The mood sank.
Smoke poised to strike his throat any second—yet Breck calmly sipped the coffee he'd brewed himself.
"Haha. Kidding, kidding."
A true Nostra top brass.
Composed even on the brink of decapitation.
"Hah..."
Sighing at his nonchalance, I reined in the smoke.
Banter like this was everyday chatter in the underworld anyway.
"Gimme some coffee too."
"Sure thing."
As the tension eased, I sipped the coffee he handed over. With it came a bundle of papers.
"Here. Condensed intel on the incident."
"Right..."
Leaning back on the sofa, I scanned Breck's handout.
Risks and traits of the drug Miraz.
Its first sighting, slums teeming with addicts, dosage for awakening abilities.
The report was loaded with such details.
Flip.
"Huh?"
Some time later, nearing the end, a final line made me frown involuntarily.
Signs of the Church of Light from the Holy Kingdom mobilizing over this Miraz drug incident detected.
"The Church of Light's moving in?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Fresh intel today."
"Unexpected..."
Churches had dipped into drug crackdowns before.
But never this fast.
"Yeah, even I'm scratching my head over that."
Breck nodded in agreement at my mutter.
As I mulled over the church, I recalled the horde of priests rushing the airship earlier and voiced my doubts.
"Oh, that? Bunch of Holy Kingdom priests arrived today for group volunteer work."
"Volunteer work?"
Priests gathering en masse for imperial charity—today of all days, this hour?
On the day of the hijacking?
Too coincidental.
"...Who proposed this volunteer gig?"
Suspicious. Way too suspicious.
Like they knew the attack was coming.
Maybe a leap on my part.
"Why do you ask?"
But Breck's casual pour of fuel on my suspicions—zero doubt in his demeanor.
The Breck I knew would've sniffed this out ages ago.
"Just curious."
Still just a hunch.
Time to gather facts—no jumping to conclusions on vibes alone.
"The one who proposed it: Ariel, the Pure White Saintess of the Church of Light."
'Again?'
Church of Light jumping quick on Miraz.
And summoning priests to the empire under "volunteer" cover?
"Hmm..."
Yet the motive felt off.
Even if they moved fast, it boiled down to cracking down on a drug turning normals into Awakened.
The hijacking? Without me, mass casualties.
Preemptively mustering doctors and priests—hardly villainous.
"Ariel, Ariel..."
So, file the name away for now.
'Wait—Saintess?'
Muttering her name triggered a vague deja vu.
Ariel was new, so not the name itself.
Then... saintess.
Saintess, saintess... saintess?
Digging through my hazy recall...
Neurons fired, scattered thoughts snapping into alignment.
Back when I realized this was a rofan-academy mashup via Crocus Academy.
What was the rofan's title?
Saintess, But @@@ and @@@ Are Obsessed With Me.
Not exact, but close enough—ignore the fluffy backend; front half mattered.
Saintess.
"No way..."
Rofan meant a protagonist, obviously.
Church of Light's odd moves.
Center: Saintess Ariel.
Was she the rofan heroine?
***
The Holy Kingdom.
A nation forged by countless churches.
Deeming it blasphemous to name it otherwise, they simply called it the Holy Kingdom.
"Say that again. What did you say?"
Saintess Ariel of the Church of Light couldn't believe the holy knight's report from the grand cathedral. She demanded he repeat it.