chapter 1
Chapter 1:
"Sorry, Leon. I have other plans today…."
Oh ho.
"Huh? Why would I have to walk around the market with you? You can handle that much on your own!"
Ah.
"Mmm~ Sorry! I have somewhere to be for a bit today, so I don't think I can hang out with you!"
Now I understood clearly.
This wasn't a romance fantasy genre—it was Netorare.
***
I had lived an entirely ordinary life, then suddenly found myself born into another world.
I became aware of it around the time I turned 8.
At first I was completely baffled by the whole thing, but as I dug through my memories, I recalled a conversation I'd had with a friend just before my previous life ended.
'They say if you take 10 billion, a murder snail will follow you around forever—would you take it?'
I said of course I would. A snail's a snail, after all.
—That was my mistake.
But this world was, astonishingly, one where the Demon King of snails was leading the Demon Race in an invasion.
'I never imagined the murder snail would turn out to be the Demon King.'
I quickly made my peace with it and took stock of the circumstances I'd been born into. If the murder snail was real, then the 10 billion ought to be real too.
But when I was born, there was no billionaire family—I was a complete orphan. The most I had was the villagers taking pity on me, giving me food and lending me an empty hut.
By fantasy genre standards, that could be considered lucky, but by the standards of someone who'd lived in the modern world, it was unmistakably close to miserable.
'So the snail follows me and I get nothing in return? Isn't that a terrible way to implement a balance game?'
Harboring those grievances and muddling through life, at age 12—
"Oh! A blessing from the gods!"
"The birth of a Hero! A Hero is born!"
"Goodness!"
As if to silence my complaints, a brilliant light shot down from above the clouds and struck my home. Every small wound I'd gotten running errands healed, and I could feel vitality coursing through my entire body.
Then my black hair turned to lustrous white, and my brown irises shifted to a radiant gold.
In other words, I had been chosen by the Goddess—the sole deity of the one true faith—and become a Hero. At that point, I was thrilled, thinking: finally, an exciting development!
And so began my delusion, starting with Serin, who was from the same village as me.
"Leon! Even if you're the Hero, you need to pace yourself in training!"
She had short red hair, a reasonably slender figure, and an energetic personality that made her charming. I remembered her coming to visit me now and then even before I was chosen as Hero, sharing bread with me and keeping me company.
A year before I was chosen as Hero, she had woven a ring from wildflowers and we each wore one, even promising to get married together someday.
Honestly, I don't think there's a man alive who wouldn't feel a flutter of excitement at a promise like that with a fantasy childhood friend.
Finding some happiness despite my difficult life, when I became the Hero, she volunteered to join as my companion, setting off with me on the road to the Capital City.
As the child of a hunter, she had a fair amount of talent with the bow, and thanks to my strong advocacy, she was recognized by the Emperor's knights in the role of Hero's assistant.
And so began the life of a chosen Hero. The second person to deepen my delusion was Airen, the Saint of the Holy Kingdom.
Airen was the same age as me and Serin. She was famously born with radiant and vast Divine Power.
Signs had appeared since childhood, and by the time she was in her late teens, she had developed quite a sensual figure.
Her brilliant platinum hair worn in a braid behind her, and her deep blue irises that seemed to carry real depth—these had the power to make any boy her age's heart race.
"Your palm is torn open again…? Honestly…."
Blessed with God's Eye from birth as the Goddess's Saint, she always walked with her eyes closed. Even so, as if she could see everything, she never failed to come to me whenever I was hurt and cast Healing Holy Arts.
She said she could feel endless death and suffering from the direction where the Demon King dwelt. On nights when the dark moon rose, she would sometimes sneak into my room saying she was scared of the dark without any light, and sleep there with me.
She always spoke formally, which gave her a more mature air than others her age, while Serin was always the spoiled, tomboyish contrast to that.
And finally, the one who completed my delusion was Tei, the prodigy mage of the Magic Tower.
She wore her purple hair in long braids on both sides and looked at me with attractive violet eyes. Joining us at the Imperial Palace around age 15 during the formation of the Hero's party, she was known for her perpetually grumbling way of speaking.
"If you're weak, it's me who suffers! Train properly!"
Later, when we set off on our adventure, she always packed snacks for me—adding that it was for her own convenience—and it was actually quite endearing.
Born a half-elf with pointed ears, she had smooth, fair skin and a petite frame.
She herself seemed dissatisfied with how her body had developed. But since I didn't particularly fixate on that sort of thing, I actually found her all the more cute for it.
Since she, like me, was an orphan, I felt we shared a similar pain. Sometimes she would secretly call me aside, act annoyed, then pull me into a tight embrace.
When her eyes welled with tears and I asked if something was wrong, she'd yell "Just stay still!" at me—that was just a bonus.
"Hero of the Divine, Leon—raise your head."
"…Yes."
"From this day forth, Leon, now 20 and now of age, I hereby officially appoint you to the position of Hero and command that you be treated with the same standing as a Viscount of the Empire!"
"Yes!"
Time passed quickly. Until I turned 20, I trained under the care of the Imperial Palace. The training under Sword Master Kelliban, in particular, was a grueling memory I had no desire to relive.
Life outside of training wasn't exactly smooth either. To be honest, this world was going off the rails in quite a few ways.
The Levanheart Empire, the first to move the moment I was chosen as Hero, was visibly overrun with corrupt officials.
The Emperor, who had originally promised me treatment equal to a Duke, caved to pressure from the officials and lowered that to Viscount.
'Honestly, if they weren't going to treat me properly anyway, they could've at least kept calling it Duke-level.'
And through Airen, I could see that the Holy Kingdom wasn't a proper organization either. The Holy Kingdom, which should have gone into debt with the Empire if need be just to directly support the Goddess's Hero, had done nothing of the sort—sending only Airen was the extent of it.
And the reason they sent Airen wasn't even out of genuine consideration for me. The Bishops, feeling their positions threatened by her innate sainthood, had banded together to drive her out of the Holy Kingdom.
Still, I endured.
Why?
Because through Serin, Airen, and Tei, I had harbored one enormous delusion.
'This place… it's the world of that famous romance fantasy!'
The day the Hero's party was formed. I had no doubt this world was the romance fantasy genre.
And the moment that certainty began to crack was when I entered my 5th year as Hero.
***
The Battlefront against the Demon Race. The reason the nations of the continent—which had waged countless wars over territory—had entered into a massive ceasefire.
One day, the Demon King of snails, Lu Karcol, appeared without warning and began invading the world with slow but immense force.
Once we came of age and were bound together as the Hero's party, we set off on our adventure immediately. At first it started simply, relieving frontier villages where Magic Beasts had appeared.
There were no major difficulties.
"Ha!"
The Sword Master had said I possessed once-in-a-generation talent. Thanks to that, even though I hadn't yet reached the Sword Master's level by the time we set out, I had the strength to subjugate most Magic Beasts on my own.
"Volcano!"
"O Gods, bless us all!"
"Twin Shot!"
And since my companions were each exceptional in their own fields, the adventure was smooth sailing—except for the occasional mistake.
Then came year 3.
"…Ugh."
"Sorry, I'm feeling a little under the weather today."
As we joined the main Battlefront in earnest, the attitudes of the girls gradually began to change. At first, they had trembled at the harrowing sights while trying not to lose their sense of justice.
Only at first, though.
From around this point I began to wonder whether romance fantasy had always been such a grueling genre. Of course, since I was still blinded by the title of Hero at the time, I couldn't hold onto that doubt for long.
"Waaaah…! Hero, my mom…!"
A young girl clutched the hem of my trousers and pointed toward where her mother lay dead, crushed beneath a collapsed house.
Not official party members, but the many people who had pitched in saying they wanted to help with the Hero's work—they fell one after another at the hands of the Demon Race.
I took on a sense of mission. And I carried guilt with me.
I changed the mindset I'd had of simply trying to enjoy it all, thinking of this as some romance fantasy world.
"I'm sorry… Hero, may we rest for today?"
Right.
"I told you I'm not feeling well!"
Yeah, I know.
"I… just want to rest for a bit."
I understand you're exhausted.
And so I understood them. Living on this Battlefront was hard, and perhaps I had grown to care for them.
So I didn't blame them even when the days they stood and fought became fewer than the days they rested.
I would push harder. If I, the Hero, pushed myself harder, it was something I could manage.
Then came year 5.
The Battlefront, which had been nothing but chaos and ruin, had settled to some degree. The Demon Race's momentum had been broken, and an unexpected order had arrived.
'What's this?'
Why are Vincent—who had joined as a cart porter—and Serin browsing a flower shop together?
Why is Airen's cheek flushed while the Archbishop who had cast her out is groping her backside?
What's going on that has Tei trembling in a back-alley brothel, wrapping her cloak around herself as she moves about?
From a tall spire in the Capital City, I let the chipped and faded Holy Sword slip from my grip as I understood.
This—
This wasn't the romance fantasy genre. It was Netorare.
"Bwahahaha…!!"
I laughed.
Which meant—
'There's no need to hold back anymore.'
All of you are dead now.