The Unwanted Hero
Should I quit? After that, it was all too predictable. At the hero selection ceremony held by the imperial palace, I would become the hero. The ceremony took place in the imperial capital, and anyone who drew the holy sword bestowed by the Sun Goddess would naturally become the hero. It was a ritual that had been performed for generations, practically a continental custom. Draw the sword, and you became the hero instantly—no questions asked about rank, character, or image. A fortunate setup, really.
I had entered the imperial capital with those thoughts in mind.
"Step right up! Anyone who draws the sword becomes a hero! Those seeking a reversal of fortune! Those who believe they've been chosen by the goddess! Come forward and try your hand at the holy sword!"
"You'll need stamina to pull it! Buy some food first!"
"Ugh! Failed again! That was my third try."
The selection ceremony was already in full swing at the center of the capital. The host shouted himself hoarse while merchants, drawn by the scent of money, lined the streets hawking food. Would-be heroes kept failing to draw the sword. On a makeshift throne set up for the imperial family, the king watched the proceedings with a bored expression. After all, this was already the fourteenth day of the ceremony. It was understandable that he'd grown weary.
Since only one hero could be chosen from the entire continent, the selection often stretched beyond a single day. Even when I had failed at the game, the ceremony had still been underway. Fourteen days was unusually long, though. Normally, a hero appeared within a week. Perhaps that explained why the plaza felt so empty—the event had lost most of its appeal. Instead of hopeful anticipation about who the hero might be, a heavy unease hung in the air: what if no hero appeared at all?
The king was probably thinking the same thing. That was why he was considering that insane plan to march into the Demon Realm without a hero, and he would likely carry it out soon. He must have been eager to end this tedious ceremony.
In that charged atmosphere—where expectation, anxiety, self-interest, and boredom all mingled—I stepped forward.
"Next challenger—oh? Huh?"
I walked past the crowd, past the flustered host, and finally stood before the holy sword. I ignored the host's bewildered stare from behind me. He had probably sensed fear. After all, I carried curses related to fear as well.
"...Hmm."
I also ignored the king's displeased gaze. Instead, I focused on the sacred sword before me. It was embedded in solid rock, straight out of the Excalibur myth. Tens of thousands had tried and failed to draw it. Among the challengers had been the empire's greatest knights and even the masters of the great magic towers.
"Hurry up and try. You'll fail anyway."
As the king muttered from his seat, I grasped the holy sword.
Shhhk!
There was no resistance. I felt neither the sword's weight nor any catch from the stone. It slid into my hand as if it had always belonged there. The blade gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight—the blessing of the Sun God—revealing its double-edged splendor.
"!!"
"!!!"
Gasps of shock rippled through the crowd. The unlikable newcomer had drawn the sword that no one else had managed to pull in two weeks. Their disbelief must have gone beyond mere astonishment to something deeper, as if their very souls had been shaken.
Voices erupted around me.
"Wh-what!"
The loud host's cry of surprise.
"This can't be!"
The royal guard's exclamation.
"Good heavens, has the end times truly come? Are there truly no worthy souls left on the continent?"
Even an elderly citizen nearby muttered in disbelief. People who had never met me before were already cursing my existence. The situation was so absurd that I couldn't help but chuckle.
Everyone seemed repulsed by the unexpected turn of events, but what could they do? I had already drawn the sword, and this was no feat that could be faked or replicated. Fourteen days of failure from countless challengers proved that. Invalidating the result was equally impossible. No one could overturn centuries of imperial tradition simply because they disliked the outcome. Even if it were possible, the current king lacked the stature to attempt it.
"I... hereby appoint you as the hero..."
Thanks to that, I endured the commotion and was smoothly appointed. Watching the king grant me the title with a face like he'd bitten into something foul was quite the sight. The hero party's members convulsing at the sight of me had been painful, though...
*
What!? That thing is the hero? Don't make me laugh!! The empire is finished... So this is how it falls. Oh, Enen... If this is your will, I'll follow it for now... No. I can see the evil overflowing from his very soul. Is this man truly the hero? Or a spy sent by the Demon King's army?
Those were the words I heard from the women the first time we met after I became the hero. They had held such high expectations for the hero, so their disappointment must have been immense. My body was covered in curses that made me thoroughly unlikable, after all. I didn't know exactly how I appeared to others, but it certainly wasn't a good impression. Because of that, I felt like I was sitting on a bed of thorns from our very first meeting.
"But thinking about it now, that time was probably better."
Of course, from my current perspective, those early days had been preferable. At least back then, everyone had been too awkward to openly mock me. Now that we'd grown closer, I was simply subjected to daily ridicule. Being mocked as a sign of closeness—what kind of relationship was that?
"What are you thinking about all by yourself?"
While I was lost in bitter thoughts, the knight ahead of me asked. I gave a vague smile and replied.
"Ah, just random thoughts."
"Tsk. Keep your eyes forward. Does the hero not even know how to do basic scouting?"
She snapped at me for getting distracted. Well, that wrapped up the story of how I became the hero. What remained were the events of the past six months—but those were predictable and dull, so I'll skip over them. I fought monsters and got unfairly blamed. I cooked and got scolded. While standing watch, I was suspected of being part of the Demon King's army, leading to a sleepless night for everyone. We argued over directions, I endured personal insults, and when I stepped up, I was called incompetent. Even when monsters tore my skin, they deliberately delayed healing me. At some point, dismantling work became entirely my responsibility. Things like that.
...Those were the only kinds of stories. The curse related to relationships was far more vicious than I'd imagined. Curses of distrust, unlikability, and malice grew stronger the longer we spent together, not just at first meeting. Half a year was more than enough time for the hero party's members—who should have trusted and relied on each other—to begin doubting and hating me. I had become what people called a nuisance. The curse slowly nurtured their suspicions until they bloomed into certainty. That was the true power of the curses placed upon me. No wonder I couldn't build any real bonds.
Do you know what they think of me in this party right now?
"No matter how I look at it, he's suspicious... Isn't he actually the Demon King or one of his subordinates?"
"Indeed, it's possible. When I saw his soul, it was pitch black, like darkness itself."
They saw me as the mastermind. Being both unlikable and suspicious made me the perfect candidate for suspicion. Lily and Adel were currently discussing whether I was part of the Demon King's army.
Cliché. Such a cliché.
Turns out there was a traitor in the hero party. A predictable trope. So predictable that anyone could come up with it. And because it was so easy to imagine, it was just as easy to fall into believing it. If you wove a scenario together, it became simple to convince yourself of its truth.
"Let's keep pressuring him. If we corner him psychologically, he'll reveal something."
That was probably why they kept hounding me. Since they couldn't directly expel me—I was still the hero—they wanted me to leave of my own accord. Like company employees being pushed toward voluntary resignation.
A sigh escaped me involuntarily.
"Haa..."
Human hearts were fluid by nature. They weren't fixed; they flowed like water. Depending on the situation, they could change dramatically. The resolve to live diligently that one made late at night easily scattered with the drowsiness of early morning. Even the fierce determination sworn on a special day would naturally wear away over time, like rocks on a beach. Following that same logic, my own initial resolve was wearing thin. In short, I was exhausted.
The bleak half-year I'd endured had been more than enough to wear me down and fill me with regret. The flawed sides of the heroines that the game had never shown. The contempt and irritation etched on their faces in reality. Surrounded by endless scorn, suspicion, and persecution, I could only repeat the same words today.
Should I quit?
That phrase I'd muttered hundreds of times before.