The Hero Party
His mood was foul. Really foul.
Kick!
Luin booted an innocent pebble and scowled fiercely.
"Damn, this is way shittier than I thought."
He couldn't pinpoint exactly where things had gone off the rails.
A medieval fantasy world where swords and magic were commonplace. No status screen, no tutorial, no one shoving a worldbuilding summary in his face—and yet he'd jumped to calling it a "cliché setup." That was the problem.
Luin scratched his forehead vigorously.
"Screw the hobbit hole for now."
If it was baked into the title, it might be a key element, but with zero leads, he shelved it.
The real issue was that someone had casually declared he was meant to be the cornerstone for saving the world.
"Which means there is a big bad out there."
In other words, his original plan—scouting heroic talent or building connections with them—wasn't wrong.
Even if reality made it clear that squeezing into a B-rank party wouldn't be easy.
What good was whining about it?
On the road to the capital, he'd struggled against mere goblins—the fantasy equivalent of slimes for small fry. And he'd burned through an entire sword doing it?
"Ugh, what an idiot…."
Of course a backwater kid playing gang leader in alleys couldn't just rub shoulders with heroes. The standard route was a non-starter.
As Luin racked his brain, a voice cut in out of nowhere.
"Hey, how long are you gonna keep treating me like I'm invisible?"
"…."
Luin didn't reply.
To be precise, he'd been deliberately ignoring the elf woman who'd been tailing him like a leech for days.
She wasn't content with chattering at his side all day—she'd even followed him to his inn and snagged the room next door, full stalker mode.
If only she had hero-level talent… I'd welcome her with open arms.
But this elf had long since proven herself a dud.
Her firepower against those goblins? Pathetic. Utterly useless.
Keeping her around would be pointless.
Best to ignore her. That was the smart play.
"What, am I some bug now?"
"B-bug?! You just called me that to my face?!"
Luin ignored her protests as usual and headed for the adventurers' guild.
The capital's prime hub, swarming with adventurers from all over. Luin had been popping in and out, banking on its reputation.
Nothing concrete yet, but leaving a good impression couldn't hurt.
Plus, the receptionists—mature beyond their years—doted on him for handling their odd jobs.
"Oh, Luin! You're here?"
"Yep. Got any annoying chores? I'll knock 'em out quick. Oh, and I know it's not free."
Luin flashed a bright grin, and laughter bubbled from the counter.
"I swear, I can't handle you. What did we do without you?"
"Margaret, you sure you don't have ulterior motives? You've been waiting for him all day. Don't drag down a kid with a bright future."
"What?! And Catherine, you asked him for a personal favor!"
"P-personal? What're you—"
"Think I wouldn't notice? You specifically asked him to pick you up late at night from some tavern district."
"Ahem… where'd you hear that?"
Luin slipped away from their bickering.
A while back, Catherine had asked—with a shady grin—to fetch her from a tavern district because of her drinking habits.
He'd agreed without complaint, figuring he'd eavesdrop on drunken gossip for intel.
Somehow, it had gotten twisted into something else.
Let 'em sort it out.
Butting into a catfight just meant getting caught in the crossfire.
As he edged away from the counter, something soft pressed against the back of his head.
Squish.
That pillowy warmth made his head turn instinctively.
The girl facing him moved with casual poise.
"You're here again today, Luin."
Her hair in a simple ponytail gave her an old-fashioned girl vibe, but up close, the illusion shattered.
Luin recognized her quickly and waved nonchalantly.
"Ah, Dorothy. Good morning?"
"…Luin, like I told you from day one—this isn't a place for kids your age."
"One more year, and I'll have my official license. Cut me some slack till then."
"Where does that confidence even come from…?"
"It's not confidence. It's certainty."
Luin was no prodigy, but he was dead sure he could make adventurer wages just fine.
As long as the whole continent doesn't go belly-up.
Dorothy, oblivious, tilted her head at his bravado.
"You know license exams start at fifteen by capital law. So why start now?"
"Chores build experience."
He shrugged it off casually.
"Get the guild vibe, make connections. Preheating, y'know?"
Dorothy let out a sigh—or maybe a chuckle.
"You always sound so convincing…."
"Watch me. I'll be the guild's youngest big shot."
He scoffed at his own bombast—right as low voices drifted from adventurers clustered by the request board.
Luin's ears perked up.
"Heard? Silver Moon's Oath cut someone loose."
"The baggage handler, right? Everyone's scrambling now that the spot's open."
"Duh. It's the Hero's party. One line on your resume there, and you're set."
"Even hauling gear's a steal. Get recognized, and your whole career flips."
The talk shifted, but Luin had heard enough.
The Hero Party's baggage handler.
Land that, and doors opened wide.
No official license meant no shot for him, of course.
Still, showing his face for future prospects? Smart.
Plus, in this world's Hero Party? Worth the risk to make connections.
Luin's lips curved faintly.
No downside.
He exhaled slowly, plotting his next move.
The Hero Party "Silver Moon's Oath" was in a meeting.
Just one baggage handler gone, but they needed to fill the headcount for "task division."
To an outsider, it looked perfectly rational.
But anyone in the know saw through the excuse.
The clueless members just viewed "Chris's" spot as replaceable.
No one would say it aloud, but one couldn't swallow the decision easily.
Saintess Veronica brushed her golden hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze.
"Maybe it's too late to say this, but… I've been wondering if expelling Chris was really the right call."
Her eyes flicked to Hero Edelic.
Edelic frowned briefly, then steadied his voice.
"Veronica, Chris's incompetence was unanimous."
His tone was cool and measured.
"This was judgment, not emotion. For our progress, it was necessary."
"…I-I know, but…."
Veronica's voice trailed off.
Catgirl archer Kate flicked her ears and clicked her tongue.
"Spit it out, Veronica. Don't hem and haw like a dog with stage fright."
Irritation glinted in her eyes.
"What's eating you?"
"No! It's not dissatisfaction."
Veronica shook her head hastily.
"It's just… this past week, something's felt off in a different way."
"Off?"
Even Rosemary, idly filing her nails with feigned disinterest, arched a brow.
"Something with that baggage handler?"
"I… sorry. I can't pinpoint it…."
"Lame."
The meeting stalled, adrift.
Veronica's unease wasn't imagined.
But these fools were light-years from realizing it.
The truth was simple.
"Chris's" jobs weren't mere chores.
Party finances.
Selecting fitting quests.
Dungeon intel gathering and prep.
Potion crafting, item management.
From pre-battle setup to post-fight cleanup—she handled every unglamorous cog keeping the party running.
Those tasks stayed invisible.
Glory went to battles and feats, claimed by others.
So they never noticed.
Never cared to.
But after "Chris" changed—
Precisely, after Jin Hamin possessed her body.
The "incompetence" spotlighted how much the old "Chris" had propped them up.
The new Jin Hamin couldn't match it.
Not effort, but experience gap.
Time would fix it.
But Jin Hamin-as-Chris had sandbagged on purpose till expulsion.
So their "Chris" remained a do-nothing deadweight in memory.
No one questioned it. The story rolled on.
Even Chris herself oblivious.