Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Secular Return - 7
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"H-Hey, the Hero? Wasn't the Hero supposed to be the Princess?!"
"I-I'd heard some rumors, but..."
The confused crowd began murmuring one by one. The noblewoman before me, Christina, gave a slight smile and extended her hand to me.
"It seems the rumors haven't reached these foolish folks yet."
She elegantly brushed the dust from her clothes, then bowed her head politely once more.
"For the true Hero to be scraping by in a place like this, hunting mere orcs just to survive... It's utterly deplorable."
What does she want?
I didn't memorize the names of every noble, but judging by her confidence, she wasn't from some minor house.
"You've got the wrong person."
I had no desire to hide the fact that I'd been chosen as the Hero, but unnecessary attention was another matter.
"Was playing adventurer fun? Watching that fool get his comeuppance was quite amusing, even for me."
I glanced back, but the old man had vanished without a trace.
"Let's talk outside first."
There was no reason to let useless information spread. I had no intention of stopping—or even the ability to stop—the truth that the real Hero existed, but becoming that Hero myself? No thanks.
Unfounded expectations only wear a person down.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Muttering nothing but useless nonsense... How long do you plan to keep this up?"
Nerwen's words drew the focused attention of those who'd been bickering.
"Choose your words carefully, elf. No matter what you think of me, I'm on Enel's side."
Pashier shot to her feet, glaring at her. Her small frame meant she still had to look up at the elf, but the fire in her eyes was anything but small.
"I feel the same way—dying to curse you all out myself."
"Hah, you filthy racist."
"I won't deny that I believe humans are inferior, elves superior, and that I've said so openly."
"If it weren't for you! If you'd only told him to wash up ten fewer times—no, if you'd just asked politely even once, this never would've happened!"
"That's pointless. 'If only you'd been a little kinder' applies to anyone here. Me, Elenor, Celia, you."
"...You're right."
Pashier let out a deep sigh and lowered her head.
"It's weird. I don't know why, but my hostility definitely feels off."
The elf elder had mentioned love and lust, but those were utterly alien sensations to an elf.
Generally speaking, lust was a base desire. Elves had no need to couple bodies like lesser beings to create new life—their children were born through the World Tree.
To engage in relations that led nowhere, purely for desire, and with lesser races at that? It felt awkward to call it love, grotesque to call it lust. It was an emotion unfit for Nerwen, born as a noble being.
This wasn't her first time meeting a human man. His looks weren't ugly, but they paled in comparison to elven beauty.
"You treated humans like bugs, so of course you treated Enel like one too, right?"
"No. I can't see elves and humans as equals, but I don't irrationally hate humans of value."
Elves judged others by their scent. She'd despised him because his scent spoke of his lowly character.
She'd assumed every action hid vile, vulgar intent. Even the brush of skin repulsed her; his shifting gaze sent chills down her spine.
But if someone could manipulate that scent? If it were possible to imprint it onto his soul? All her judgments would crumble.
Of course, it was practically impossible. No race could interpret the scents elves perceived.
A mage of Pashier's caliber might crudely replicate something similar, but elves could instantly distinguish artificial scents.
Still, Nerwen couldn't shake her doubts.
"There's something there."
"So, what do you plan to do?"
"It's in the past. Do you think debating blame or his reasons for anger is meaningful? Even if you and Pashier could move on, Emperor—you don't have much time left either..."
"Then?"
"You lot do what you can! It's the honor and glory he rightfully deserves, isn't it? I only learned he was the Hero after returning here!"
Elenor ground her teeth. No excuse changed the fact that she'd hidden his identity as the Hero.
But the others wore strange expressions, pondering Nerwen's proposal without agreeing.
"Do you think he wants honor and glory? It would've been easier if he did."
"What?"
"If so, there could've been a solution: cede the throne in exchange for marrying my daughter. Those who crave power are willing to give up something for it."
Pashier let out a hollow laugh.
"You? Elenor? You expect us to buy that, kid?"
"I could've accepted that much. But from the start, that's not what he wanted... Negotiating with someone who wants nothing? It's absurd."
Elenor bit her lip.
"Maybe... I could've accepted it too. I didn't hate him."
"I remember your words being pretty harsh too, fake Hero?"
"Urgh..."
Elenor clamped her mouth shut, speechless. The venom in her words matched Nerwen's, but she had no way to deflect the blame.
"Then, money and women?"
Within her understanding, the elf listed off potential compensations one by one.
"Miss Nerwen, you really know nothing about Enel. I knew you weren't interested, but..."
"Whether he likes it or not, it has to be done. You think a few apologies now will sway him? There's no alternative anyway. At least show some sincerity."
"...What he wants is to go home."
"Then send him."
Elves wielded supernatural powers too, but they differed from a sorceress's magic. She didn't grasp how arduous and complex the spell was.
"Gathering the materials right now would be tough. We'd have to raid the imperial vault again, and shipping would take time."
The Emperor explained the difficulties with a reluctant face.
If the Emperor could "stretch" to obtain it, it meant squeezing blood and sweat from the empire's people.
Adventurers ultimately moved for coin; you couldn't force them. Risky, tedious tasks required mobilizing the army.
Without conscripting labor and extorting merchants, magic reagents were impossible to procure.
"Still, it's nothing compared to unobtainable materials. Where do you find phoenix remains? A magic dragon's heart?"
Even Pashier, unconcerned with such things, couldn't easily provide what he wanted. Nerwen's face twitched slightly.
"Fine, do as you please then. I'll apologize to him my way."
Nerwen left the room without looking back. Those left behind sank into even deeper worry.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Nice to see you! I told you I'd follow no matter what, right?"
The silver-haired maid popped out from somewhere in the manor, greeting me with a bright smile. Her sudden approach and firm grip on my hand left me momentarily flustered.
"An acquaintance? How fortunate."
Christina, walking ahead, gave a faint smile.
"It's been a while... huh."
Having practically lived in the imperial palace, the opulent beauty of her home wasn't all that shocking.
But neither the maid I'd reunited with nor the exquisite decorations and artwork could hold my gaze.
"Forgive me for not greeting you personally."
He was slightly gaunt, his beard neatly trimmed. Not large in build, yet his presence loomed immense. He didn't seem like someone I'd lose a fight to, but crossing him felt dangerous.
His appearance was complex—dignity mixed with passion, cruelty with charisma.
"Creon Altdoor. I hope my daughter wasn't too much trouble?"
"...Thank you. You helped me avoid a fuss."
Still, I couldn't let my guard down.
He wasn't approaching out of pure goodwill; like the rest, he wanted something from me.
But he didn't seem like someone I couldn't coexist with.
"Since learning the Hero we knew was a fake, the nobles are in chaos. Disappointment in His Majesty... is considerable."
His cool, sinking voice began to grate on my nerves bit by bit.
"What are your thoughts, Hero?"
He hadn't said much, yet revealed more information than expected—like a merchant labeling his wares, openly stating terms.
For a noble of his stature, it wouldn't be odd to dance around the point, plying me with fine liquor and delicacies to lower my defenses while gauging my reaction.
I'd expected as much when invited to dine, but he straightforwardly asked my intentions.
His face showed no haste. I had to think deeply with a clear head.
"Christina, pour the wine."
"Yes, Father."
She wore a gown with a deeper neckline than before, filling glasses with red wine.
"No matter how I look at it, the premise seems off."
But I couldn't offer what wasn't mine. Even if he wanted it, I had nothing to give.
"I'm not the Hero."