The Incompetent Hero's Pursuit of Happiness
Pleiades' Haven was the most successful brothel in the entire Roman Kingdom.
Its most distinctive feature was the invitation system: only those who possessed an invitation could set foot inside. A single invitation cost a staggering five gold coins. Even for the wealthy, five gold for one night was no small sum. As a result, the clientele consisted almost exclusively of rich nobles—or the sons of rich nobles.
In other words, the expensive invitations simultaneously elevated the value of the women who worked there and kept the riffraff of the back alleys and two-bit mercenaries from barging in and spoiling the atmosphere. Because of this, every courtesan in the Roman Kingdom dreamed of belonging to Pleiades' Haven, and every man who frequented brothels prayed for even a single night spent within its walls.
And in one of the royal suites reserved exclusively for VIPs of that very establishment sat a handsome man leisurely sipping wine, facing a beautiful woman across from him.
The woman, however, was scowling deeply, her delicate brow furrowed in open displeasure as she glared at him. The man, by contrast, simply savored the aroma of his wine with unhurried ease. They sat opposite each other in silence for a time.
After that meaningless standoff, it was the woman who spoke first.
"What business do you have here?"
Instead of answering the question that had broken the silence, the man merely lifted one corner of his mouth.
Only after taking a slow swallow of wine did he reply.
"This place is still as vulgar as ever, Emula. Ah… right. Here you go by Flora, don't you?"
"…I asked what business the great Hero Ragna has in this vulgar place."
Flora—as she was called—made no effort to hide her irritation, snapping back at his mocking tone.
Ragna seemed to enjoy her displeasure. Rather than answer, he simply poured more wine into his empty glass and held it up to the light, admiring its color and fragrance.
"…Hero Ragna!!!"
Unable to endure his attitude any longer, Flora raised her voice.
Ragna shrugged, set the glass down, and finally met her eyes.
"Enough of these childish games. Come home, Emula."
"!"
His gaze had gone cold and heavy, the air around him suddenly oppressive. For a moment Flora's body trembled under a weight no ordinary courtesan could bear—yet her eyes refused to yield.
"You already know the story being told: Emula Roman has fallen seriously ill and is completely unable to appear in public, so she has withdrawn from social activities for treatment… That is the official version. No one except me knows you are living here selling your body. Not even Father or Mother. So come back, Emula Roman."
"…Come back and become your tool again?"
Flora bit her lip and glared at him.
"Do you know what I realized after coming here?"
"Hmm? Who knows… I doubt there's anything worth learning in a place like this."
Ragna shrugged as he answered. Watching him, Flora quietly closed her eyes.
"To me, the palace—the entire social world—was nothing but a filthy, ugly place. A stifling hell where you couldn't even breathe properly. A place where people smile and chatter for their own sake or their family's, deceive one another without a second thought, and casually drive knives into each other's backs."
Born in the palace, given the name Roman, raised as a princess who wanted for nothing… and then the despair of realizing that every one of those privileges was merely a card to be used and discarded for the prosperity of the great machine called the Roman Kingdom.
That despair had driven her to flee the palace the very same day.
"But this place is different. Just as the name 'Haven' suggests… it is a shelter for those exhausted by hell. A place where people set everything else aside and pursue pure desire. Only when I am here can I finally breathe—and finally be myself."
"Hmm… and so?"
"I will never go back to that hell, Ragna."
She said it. She had finally said it.
A faint thrill of exhilaration ran through her as she stared him down.
Yet Ragna seemed utterly unmoved by the declaration she had steeled herself to make. He simply drank again and turned his gaze toward the window.
"It's noisy outside."
"…"
Indeed, voices and the dull thud of footsteps drifted in from beyond the glass.
But in the middle of a conversation this serious, why would he care about the street—
"Heh heh heh…"
"What's so funny?"
"Forgive me. It's just… the way you attach such grand meaning to a single brothel is too ridiculous not to laugh."
"A mere bro—!"
She started to retort, but Ragna raised a hand and cut her off.
Then he spoke.
"Go grab any random whore from any of the brothels lining that street and ask her what a customer means to her."
"…What are you—"
"A wallet that pays. Nothing more. I can guarantee it. Pure desire? No. Those men are losers. Men who couldn't even get a woman of their own, so they buy one with money. Idiots clutching a few coins so they can spit out their pathetic lust. And you managed to reach that lofty conclusion while dealing with trash like that? What are you, some sage seeking ultimate truth?"
He chuckled as though genuinely amused, then fixed her with eyes that had gone ice-cold.
"They pay a pittance to scratch their base urges, and some of them go beyond sex into pure destruction. Can you look a nameless whore who's been beaten bloody by one of those 'pure' men and left in some alley and still say the same words to her face?"
"…!"
His words stabbed with surgical precision. And as if driving the blade deeper, he continued.
"The ones you looked down on are the truly pure ones. All they need is their own profit and security. Give them those, and they will never bare their fangs at me."
With a sneer he slipped one hand beneath the table.
The faint wet sounds that had been barely audible until now—slurp… slurp…—the unmistakable sound of a cock being sucked—grew suddenly clearer.
"You—!!"
She knew exactly what that sound was.
How could she not?
And so Flora's rage burned hotter than it had at any of his earlier claims that her beliefs were empty nonsense.
"This vulgar—!"
"Vulgar? I don't follow. Emula, according to you this place is filled with nothing but people pursuing pure desire. I came here, so I decided to enjoy myself a little… Is there a problem?"
"That and this are—!!"
He cut her off again, eyes locking on hers.
"Different? No. They are the same. There's no need to make excuses. This is identical to the sophistry—no, the worthless nonsense not even worthy of being called sophistry—that you've been spouting."
"Ugh…!"
"Once you inherit royal blood, living for the royal house is the natural order of things. You refuse to pay the price for the life of privilege you've enjoyed, throwing a tantrum not even a child would throw, locking yourself away in a place like this, and then congratulating yourself that you're 'awakened,' that you're an 'intellectual.' You're nothing more than a madwoman."
Ragna's merciless tirade left Flora speechless. She slammed out of the room without another word.
"…Tsk."
Ragna clicked his tongue and looked down.
Slurp… slurp♥
Beneath the table, a girl with short brown hair—Marie, one of Leon's former party members—gazed up at him with coquettish eyes as she diligently sucked his cock.
"Honestly. She's my little sister, but she's far too foolish, don't you think?"
"Slooorrp…♥… Pwah…♥… You're right!"
"Give benefit, receive benefit. Just as I promised support to your family."
He stroked Marie's head gently, as one might pet a dog—then suddenly changed, seizing her hair and shoving his cock deep into her throat.
"Mmph!… Uuum… Chuuup!…"
"Here. Swallow it."
Ragna leisurely savored the pleasure of climax while gazing out the window.
At some point the restless atmosphere outside had settled, returning the night streets to their usual quiet.
Guided by Syr, I stepped into the brothel.
"If anything makes you uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to tell me."
"Uncomfortable? Well… aside from the little incident at the entrance, nothing really."
"Regarding that… even if I had ten mouths, I wouldn't have enough to apologize."
I left the bowing Syr behind and took a look around.
When most people think of a brothel they picture something dark and decadent, but this place felt different—brighter, cleaner, more like an actual haven meant for rest, just as the name suggested.
Of course the atmosphere was only atmosphere. It was still a brothel, so the sultry voices of the women and the excited voices of their clients drifted through the air. Courtesans who hadn't yet found a customer wandered the halls as well. But it was true what they said—this was the finest establishment in the area. Every single woman who passed by was on another level of beauty.
Is it because this world started as an eroge?
"The overall level here is ridiculously high."
"Most of our girls never received the Goddess's blessing, you know."
"…That's not the kind of level I meant…"
I trailed off and glanced at Syr. She was watching me with a faint smile.
She knows exactly what I meant.
"Did you enjoy my little joke?"
"Not really."
"Oh my… I thought it was rather witty."
In this world the system of levels is called the Goddess's blessing.
People usually receive it either by paying a priest at a temple, or by being chosen by the Goddess herself and awakening. The former isn't free—it requires a sizable donation—while the latter is reserved for a tiny handful: Heroes and Saintesses.
So almost everyone who has a level paid the temple for it. Ordinary farmers who don't make a living by fighting never bother. Courtesans are no different.
"This way, please."
"Where are we going?"
"My office. There isn't much entertainment, but it's a quiet, pleasant place for conversation."
We walked down a corridor, rode something resembling an elevator to the top floor, and arrived at her office. That she had brought me here was a good sign. It meant she didn't see me as just another troublesome customer, but as someone worth having a serious talk with.
Whether that judgment came from the money I'd thrown down at the end or from the display of force, I couldn't say…
Either way, it didn't matter.
I sat on the guest sofa in the center of the room. Syr demurely took the seat opposite me.
"Shall I bring tea?"
"I'll drink it if you offer… but no aphrodisiacs."
"Fufu… Understood."
She rose from her seat.
Was she going to prepare it herself? I looked at her curiously, and she smiled.
"Normally I would leave it to the girls… but you are a special guest."
She emphasized the word "special" with a smile and left to prepare the tea. Alone, I looked around the room.
True to her description of it as an office, this was clearly a space for paperwork or non-sexual hospitality rather than entertaining clients. No bed of the sort common in brothels—just an expensive sofa, a small table, a large desk for work, and a few other modest pieces of furniture.
I was still glancing around when Syr returned with tea and sweets, seating herself with a refined yet faintly sensual grace.
"Have I kept you waiting long?"
"No, it's fine. I didn't wait that long."
"Fufu, I'm glad. Then… what brings you to our establishment, Hero Leon?"
Hmm… so she already knew.
I gave her a blank look. She covered her mouth lightly and laughed.
"If you wish to keep your identity hidden while moving about, I recommend acquiring a recognition-inhibiting mask later."
"Thanks for the tip."
Recognition-inhibiting mask…
In the game it had been a minor item that slightly raised evasion and lowered the chance of being targeted. In reality it apparently lived up to its name.
"I had heard the rumors of that day. At first I was a little confused. Hero Leon was…"
"It's fine. Just say it straight."
"…known as the Incompetent Hero. But the moment I saw the sword wrapped in cloth, I was certain."
"That alone convinced you?"
She nodded.
"For future reference, would you mind explaining your reasoning?"
"Of course."
Syr's explanation was simple.
First: the hood pulled so low it completely hid my face told her I was someone whose identity—or whose presence here—would cause problems if discovered. Second: a sword thoroughly concealed despite having a scabbard meant it was a blade that would identify its owner the moment anyone saw it.
"I'm no expert on swords… but even the most valuable blade rarely reveals a person's identity or status by itself. The only exceptions would be the standardized swords issued to royal knights or Holy City knights… and the holy swords of which only three exist in the world—wielded by Heroes."
"…Do most people think that far?"
Sharp? Or overthinking?
Hearing the explanation made it sound plausible, but did ordinary people really reach that conclusion?
"In this line of work, you need a quick eye."
"Is that so…"
"To continue… a royal knight might attract some unpleasant stares, but not enough to hide both face and sword. Holy knights would never set foot in a place like this… and besides, the fittings on your sword were freer in design than theirs. Process of elimination left only the Heroes who will soon gather here for the exchange conference."
The more she talked, the more impressive she seemed.
"There are three Heroes… so one of the three. Hero Abel has always openly enjoyed women, so he wouldn't bother hiding his identity. That left…"
"Enough. You've said plenty."
Only Ragna and I remained.
But this was Ragna's homeland, and he was its prince. Even with his face covered, a woman this sharp would never fail to recognize him.
More importantly, the moment I stepped inside I had sensed another holy sword with my Technique 999. Abel's holy sword aura was something I'd felt earlier that day; the one here was different.
By elimination, it had to be Ragna.
"Returning to my earlier question… so what business does Hero Leon have here?"
"When a man comes to a brothel, is there ever more than one purpose?"
"Indeed… how obvious. My apologies for overlooking something so basic. In that case, I shouldn't waste any more of your time. You've already paid far more than enough, so I will carefully select girls who will perfectly suit your tastes and send them to you."
"No. Ordinary girls won't do."
I freely admitted that most of the women here were on a higher level than those of other brothels.
Cute, lovely, beautiful enough that any ordinary man would gladly pay a fortune to hold them.
But that was as far as it went.
"I heard a girl named Flora is the best here. I'd like her."
"That child…"
"Is it impossible?"
"It's not impossible… but she has already been requested by name…"
Requested by name… Well, of course their top ace wouldn't be sitting idle.
What now…
While I fell silent, wrestling with the problem, Syr's demeanor shifted.
"…Then, what about me?"
"Hm?"
She slowly slipped off the outer garment she had been wearing and approached with the air of a seductive temptress—or perhaps a shy virgin on her wedding night, desperately hiding her embarrassment.
"I pride myself that neither my face nor my body falls short of any of the other girls. So… what do you think of me?"
She looked up at me pitifully, deliberately stirring the desire in a man's heart.
Apparently she had taken my silent fretting for irritation and assumed I was about to start a scene…
Hell yeah. Jackpot.
Syr was a beauty in her own right. No—without having seen this Flora yet, she was easily the most captivating woman among all the courtesans I'd passed. If she was offering herself, that was pure profit.
The problem is…
I glanced down at my lower half.
Gaining the transcendent stats of 999 had wrought countless invisible changes on this body.
So…
Please…
…please don't let it still be the same as Leon's original body!!