The First Heroine
"Why did you dump every single one of them?"
My junior, who had been watching over my shoulder the entire time I played, asked the question. She was the one who had created this beautiful-girl dating sim in the first place—and the one who had strong-armed me into playing it.
She rocked back and forth in her chair, staring at me as if I were some rare specimen. She wore a black skirt and had perched herself in a precarious crouch on the seat. It almost hurt that she felt that little need to be self-conscious around me.
"You said the story was about the protagonist saving the world. If the world's ending, does dating really matter? What a weird game."
"Weird? That's just how these games are! It's a perfectly ordinary beautiful-girl dating simulation!"
So it was weird after all…
Normal people didn't think dating sims were ordinary in the first place…
Had she really titled the thing I'm a Commoner Who Got Into the Academy and Now the Beautiful Girls Like Me Way Too Much?! and still expected anyone to call it ordinary?
"I never saw the event CGs, so I'm just checking—this isn't an adult game, is it?"
"Who knows. Play it again and find out."
"I'm definitely not playing it again."
"Besides, we're both adults. Is there a problem?"
"Isn't there…? This is our club activity…?"
"Don't put it like that!"
"You said the same thing a minute ago."
Well, the truth was simpler: among the heroines I could have pursued, none of them were mature older-sister types, so I hadn't pursued anyone. Pure preference. I was far more interested in the Academy instructors than the young heroines. Any woman whose age didn't start with a three—sometimes even a four, in special cases—barely registered as a woman to me. Saying that out loud to my junior, though, would have tanked my social standing, so I blamed the game's story instead. We skipped past my slightly off-kilter tastes and moved on.
Because I felt no interest in the heroines, I tried abandoning the Academy entirely. Every time I did, Laward died in some ridiculous way—run over by a carriage crawling along at about ten kilometers an hour, or from an infected cut left by a falling apple, and so on. The game system went out of its way to kill Laward as uncooly as possible. He had to graduate from the Academy no matter what. Probably because no other characters or events had been implemented, so the game forced him to stay there. Game-like in the most game-like way possible.
"Honestly… you're supposed to romance the beautiful girls, not the final boss. I only told you to play so I could figure out your type…"
"Huh? What was that?"
"Nothing. Anyway, congratulations. The one ending where the protagonist actually saves the world. It's a hidden ending."
She pushed her glasses up with a dry little flick.
No. I hadn't exactly been aiming for the hidden ending.
"It only appears when every heroine's affection is at rock bottom. Getting the hidden ending on your first playthrough… if that's a talent, it's a talent."
"It's a happy ending either way. If you pick a heroine, you waste time fooling around with her, the mastermind gets ignored, and the world ends."
"But you get to die with the person you love most. Even if you become a hero, isn't that more romantic than dying alone and lonely? Spending your last moments with the one you chose, right before the end of the world!"
She clasped her hands together and spoke with bright enthusiasm.
Hmm. Her tastes weren't exactly normal either.
Back then I hadn't wanted to throw more wood on her already blazing fire, so I kept quiet. Now, though, I can say it with certainty.
Without a doubt.
"That would just be a bad ending."
The slums.
A slave trader's hideout.
A boy thrashed against the ropes binding him. The protagonist—Laward.
His black hair, grown wild and uncombed, seemed to speak for the rough life he had lived. Coarse, sun-darkened skin that looked as if the shadows of the slums themselves had settled into it. Golden eyes barely visible through the hair falling over them gleamed like gold nuggets pulled from the mud.
Knock, knock—
A sudden knock. The two slave traders watching Laward jerked their heads up. As if on cue, both men turned their eyes toward the door at the same time.
"Who is it at this hour?"
"…We haven't been found out, have we?"
They whispered as low as they could.
Knock. Knock.
The knocking continued.
"Tch."
"Just get rid of them already."
The traders had no choice but to approach the door, daggers hidden behind their backs, moving slowly.
Creeeak—
One trader cracked the door open a handspan and faced the unwelcome visitor.
"Hey. Wrong place. Get lost."
He snapped the words at the hooded man beyond the threshold.
"I've come to deliver good news."
The hooded figure answered in a bright tone and caught the edge of the door with one hand.
"Do you believe in the Goddess?"
"…A missionary?"
The traders let out private sighs of relief and eased their grips on the daggers. It happened from time to time—zealots who barged up and hammered on doors, demanding faith.
"Chapter of Blessings, verse five. The Goddess spoke thus—"
"She said something about your mother, right?"
The trader tried to slam the door shut in irritation.
Crunch—
The fingers holding the door through the gap stayed planted like iron.
"You really ought to believe."
The hooded man held the door the trader was hauling on with all his strength—using only one hand.
"What the—how is he this strong…"
Bang!
The door flew open and the hooded man strode into the hideout as if he owned it. In that same instant the traders understood: this was no ordinary missionary. They would have to stop him by force.
"I said you came to the wrong—"
They tightened their grips on the daggers again and charged.
"I told you it was the wrong place, you bastard!"
The moment they threw themselves forward at full speed, the hooded man somehow clapped his hands in delight.
"Ah, excellent! So you want to meet the Goddess right away! In that case…"
Hummm—
Both of his hands blazed with hot light.
"I'll send you there in one clean blow."
BOOM!
His fist drove into a trader's face and the man's head burst like overripe fruit. One instant. Literally one punch.
"U-uaaaaah!"
The remaining man screamed and thrust his dagger at the hooded man's side—a blind-side ambush.
But—
Whip!
Without even turning, the hooded man stretched out a hand. Even with the element of surprise, his hand was faster than the dagger.
Ssshk—!
A blade of light swept across the trader's neck, and the head dropped as cleanly as if severed by a sword.
Thud.
In the space of a breath both headless bodies collapsed. Only the soft trickle of blood filled the hideout.
Step. Step.
And so the hooded man—Daywin—walked across the blood-slick floor toward Laward.
"Do you believe in the Goddess?"
Laward, face drained white, nodded so hard and so fast his head threatened to fall off.
Good.
After watching Daywin kill the men who had insulted the Goddess, Laward might have taken the question as a threat—believe or die—but the result was what mattered. Daywin had scoured every slum in the country before finally finding Laward. He had reached the protagonist at last and stepped onto the game's scenario rails.
This time, unlike before. Unlike the harem route.
Now I just need to plant the faith.
The protagonist becomes a Holy Knight.
"…Thank you for saving me."
Bound hand and foot, Laward bowed his head with difficulty.
"I'm not the one you should be thanking."
Daywin looked down at him and spoke with all the solemnity he could muster.
"If you wish to give thanks, pray to the Goddess. She was the one who led me here."
He lied with a perfectly earnest face.
"The Goddess sent me a revelation that a boy in need was in this place."
In truth there had been no revelation; the location simply appeared in the game's opening, so it had been findable. According to Act One, Laward would have escaped on his own, and a passing Academy instructor would have noticed his talent and enrolled him. Daywin had cut that flow short and inserted himself instead. Lies didn't matter. Fabricated results didn't matter. What mattered now was giving Laward an experience that transcended common sense and logic—driving faith deep into his bones.
"The Goddess… knows even things like that?"
"Insolent words. The Goddess knows all things."
Speaking lines he had never used in his previous life made his tongue feel as if it had sprouted thorns, but he endured it. The finishing blow was coming next.
"That's right, Laward."
Daywin spoke the boy's name. Saying it before any introductions made Laward flinch exactly as expected.
Now you'll ask how I know your name.
"How do you know my name…?"
Just as I thought.
Daywin let the corner of his mouth curl upward in the shadow of the hood.
"I already told you. The Goddess knows all things."
Laward looked up at him with a face full of rapture. He was sinking into an otherworldly cult before their eyes.
"The Goddess commanded me to save you."
The expression alone said he had already been won over.
"How can I ever repay this grace…?"
"Pray. Repent and worship."
And then—
"Become a Holy Knight."
Something like lightning flashed through Laward's mind. His eyes flew wide.
"Become the sword of the Goddess."
With every word Daywin spoke, Laward's gaze shook violently. An inescapable destiny seemed to be boring into his life. More than that, in Laward's eyes Daywin looked like a true apostle of the divine. He had lived far from faith, yet he had heard the myths about the Goddess in fragments—especially the stories of angels. Tales of a faceless angel who descended to the human world to save the poor and the suffering. He had always thought them nonsense. Until now. Laward was witnessing it. He could testify.
The deep-drawn hood cast darkness across Daywin's face. And behind his head floated the symbol of a Holy Knight who had manifested divine power—a halo. The ring of light backlit Daywin, and between the hood and that reverse glow his face was completely hidden. It was more than enough to make him look like the faceless angel of myth.
So those stories… were real.
Scribble—
Just as Laward's misunderstanding took root, Daywin pulled a scrap of paper from his coat and jotted something down.
"Take this."
He handed over a scripture together with the scrap.
"Engrave the scripture in your heart, then send a letter to this address. I will show you the path of a Holy Knight."
Daywin barely managed to hold back the laugh trying to escape and drew the sign of the cross over Laward's forehead.
"Young Master, a letter has arrived. Another one from Laward."
Just as the steward said, a single letter lay on the study desk. I slit the envelope and drew out the pages. Laward's carefully pressed handwriting filled them.
To my esteemed Eunsanim,
I hope this letter finds you well.
Laward greets you with respect.
As spring brings new life to all things, I sincerely pray that health and happiness may always abide in your household.
Thanks to the material and spiritual support you have so generously given, I took first place in the Academy entrance examination.
Upon graduating from the Academy with excellent marks, one is granted the privilege of joining the royal knight order. Even so, I will volunteer for the Holy Knight order exactly as you instructed. I wish to become an apostle of the Goddess like you, Eunsanim, and help those in need. The grace you showed me that day when you saved me is something I will never forget until the day I die. I will study and train all the harder.
— Laward
For an uneducated brat from the slums, the greeting was as polished as a principal's morning assembly speech. Had he practiced just to write this letter? Ever since that day I had exchanged letters with Laward, teaching him the process and fundamentals of becoming a Holy Knight. I had only passed along a single bottom-tier, F-Rank spell, yet he had already started using the burdensome title "Eunsanim."
"First place, huh."
No matter how the story twisted, the protagonist was still the protagonist. If I had never sent him to the Academy at all, he would never have formed ties with the heroines… but then this world would simply find some other way to kill him. Kill him in some absurd fashion. So I had no choice but to shove him into the Academy.
"Heh… heh."
I covered my mouth to smother the vulgar laughter.
"Finally. I finally did it."
I had searched the entire country for Laward, sponsored him without fail, and poured faith into him. The result: the protagonist was walking the Holy Knight route. Holy Knights regarded marriage—and even the passions of the heart—as terrible sins. A Holy Knight who failed to keep his purity committed a great sin by that fact alone. Only by going against human instinct could one be recognized. That I myself had once walked that path… the more I thought about it, the more self-pity welled up. I'd suffered enough holding back all this time.
That garbage of a kid who had married five beautiful girls was now, in my place, about to become a Holy Knight. About to shoulder the duty of saving the world. Alone, on a noble and lonely road. With this, Laward's romance routes were as good as completely sealed. Everything according to plan.
"I heard the Goddess called Laward behind the old classroom?"
"The old classroom? That's the… famous confession spot, right?"
"Goddess."
That was the nickname of Ester, first-year in the Academy's Magic Department. It suited her perfectly—her beauty was so overwhelming that the word "beautiful" alone fell short.
"Are you sure you didn't hear it wrong? Laward didn't call Ester—it was the other way around?"
"Don't you know anything? You're close with Laward. Didn't you spar with him last time?"
"What are you talking about? I don't know that bastard. That worst life-form in human history…"
Rumors rolled fast, and Laward lost what few friends he had in the blink of an eye.
"It might not even be a confession. The idea that the Goddess has a guy she likes is ridiculous."
Unable to stand it any longer, the male students raced to the old classroom. When they arrived, Ester truly was standing in the secluded spot behind it.
Ester. Eye-catching silver hair. Eyes that held a subtle orange glow, like the first light of dawn. Red lips that stood out even more against skin that seemed to shine white; even a faint smile made the air around her feel different. Whenever her alluring gaze brushed past from beneath long lashes, every male student was convinced she had looked only at him. Even if it was a delusion, that was fine. Because of that, the moment she enrolled, every boy on campus had tried to call her out to the old classroom—only to have their hearts half-destroyed by her ironclad defenses.
But now—
"Yes. I'm telling you that I'm interested in you."
She declared it to Laward with a confident face. The girl who had always received confessions was now the one giving them.
"You took first place in the entrance exam, didn't you? I've been interested since then. I felt there was a great deal I could learn from you. And you're the only man who doesn't call me 'Goddess.' So… what's your answer? How long do you plan to keep me standing here?"
She tried to hide it, but embarrassment showed on her face. Laward, by contrast, remained utterly impassive. It was strange. Normally he should have looked surprised or delighted, yet his expression was dry and stiff—perhaps even displeased. The unexpected reaction flustered Ester, but she refused to show it.
"Well, I suppose that makes sense. A woman of my caliber just said she was drawn to you. I understand being shaken."
She swept her hair back and put on a self-assured look. At that moment Laward stepped right up to her.
"W-what is it?"
The sudden closeness made her flush and take a half-step back.
Other students are watching… if we're going to date, w-we should start by holding hands…
She had naturally assumed the confession would succeed, but this abrupt progress was outside her calculations. A flutter of excitement rose at Laward's unexpectedly bold attitude—
"You certainly have been called 'Goddess,' haven't you."
Laward opened his mouth.
"That's right. It wasn't something I asked for, but I can't deny I've received a lot of attention. So you should consider it an honor—"
"How dare you."
In an instant his eyes turned sharp.
"Knowing your place."
"…What?"
"A lowly lump of flesh daring to be called by His holy epithet. That is blasphemy. I find you repulsive."
Laward's eyes looked down on her. He stared as if she were beneath contempt.
"It would be best if you never appear before me again. My forbearance ends here."
With those cold words he turned and walked away.
If things had followed the game scenario, two choices would have appeared during the old-classroom event: accept Ester's confession, or refuse it. Choosing the first began Ester's main-wife route; choosing the second forked into the harem route and Ester's defeat route. Laward, however, had picked a third option. He crushed Ester's heart. He stepped outside the choices entirely.
After meeting Daywin and gaining deep faith, Laward saw only impiety in Ester. A woman who harbored lust on the grounds of learning looked vulgar to him.
Meanwhile Ester covered her lips with a trembling hand. She stood blankly for about three seconds, then her large eyes filled with moisture. Her facial muscles still hadn't caught up to reality, yet, spitefully, her tear ducts reacted on their own.
"Eh…?"
The first heroine, Ester. For the first time in her life, she tasted the humiliation of being rejected by a man.