The Hero Has It Hard
"I-is this... enough...?"
"No. Start over from the beginning."
"B-but... this is already the fifth time..."
Three hours after forcing Perloché into a maid outfit and making her clean the cathedral, she began pleading through her tears.
"Please... my arms feel like they're going to fall off... I beg you..."
—Frey, cooperate in destroying and killing you!
"Eek...!"
I silently stared at her, then quietly touched my brooch to play back her recorded words. She gritted her teeth and picked up the broom again.
"...Ow!"
But for some reason, she screamed and dropped the broom, then looked down at her hand as tears welled up in her eyes.
"It h-hurts..."
Her soft hands, which had always been protected by the church and never done a single dirty chore, were chafed raw and bleeding all over.
—Shaaa...
Perloché gazed mournfully at her hands, glanced at me cautiously, and tried to gather divine power in them...
"...Don't heal them."
"Pardon?"
"Don't heal them. Clean like that."
"....Eek."
Trembling at my cold voice, she gripped the broom again.
I watched her for a moment, then rose from the high seat and approached.
"...You think you'll get anywhere holding it that weakly?"
"W-wait a second... it hurts too much..."
"You have to grip it like this, right?"
"Kyaaak...!"
Reaching her, I grabbed her hand with a cold expression and rubbed it against the broom. The saintess screamed and dropped it again.
"...Pick it up again."
"I-I'm sorry... please forgive me..."
Under the relentless abuse, Perloché knelt and begged. I pointed coldly at her hand.
"...When did I say to heal the wounds?"
"S-sorry... it hurt so much..."
Frowning at her now-perfectly healed hand, I picked up the broom and handed it to her.
"I see. Then clean until your hands are raw again."
"Eek..."
At my indifferent words, the saintess sniffled and resumed cleaning the cathedral.
After a long while, as the sun began to set, I stood and said,
"...That's enough."
"Hic... sob..."
Approaching her, I checked—sure enough, her hands were flawless, without a single scratch.
"...What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm... sorry..."
At my cold question, she bowed her head and muttered. Stroking her hair, I whispered,
"Was it that hard...?"
"Y-yes... hic..."
"...Then how about I change your tasks from now on?"
"W-what kind... of tasks...?"
With hope in her eyes, she asked. Smiling, I replied,
"...Just come to my bed at night. A very simple job. What do you think?"
".......!"
Hearing that, she looked at me with utter disgust.
"...I'll clean."
"Where? The cathedral? Cleaning it does nothing for me."
"I'll clean your room..."
—Slap!!
"...I'll clean Master's room."
"Good. I like that."
Only after the slap did she change her address. Staggering, she headed to the cleaning supply closet.
"Clean my room every evening from now on. Miss a single day, and you'll regret it."
"...Yes."
"And if you feel like it, you can help with my nights too..."
"Stop."
"Huh?"
"Please... stop..."
Silently enduring my mocking words as she put away the broom and changed clothes, Perloché suddenly cut me off, glaring with hatred.
"Please... don't say such disgusting things to me with that face..."
"...Disgusting?"
"Before I received the prophecy and became the saintess... the words and smile you gave me... what the hell was that...?"
"No idea what you're talking about."
I feigned ignorance. Her expression turned icy.
"Ha... I see. You don't even remember."
"...What?"
"Even if you did, it was probably just... pity for some street orphan. Superiority, not sympathy."
"What the hell are you rambling about?"
"...Forget it. As of today, I abandon all expectations of you."
Closing the closet, she glared coldly.
"I thought I could make you repent. And when the time came to kill you—the empire-destroyer—I thought you'd feel proper guilt."
"...And?"
"But even a fool like me sees now those were all delusions."
"...So, what's your point?"
"You're a monster, Frey."
With eyes full of hatred, she spat it out, then glanced back as she headed for the exit.
"...I'll do whatever you order from now on. So please, don't spread that recording."
"Then you'll help with my nights too?"
"...I'd rather die."
Leaving those words, the saintess staggered out into the night streets.
"Just so you know... I have eyes and ears everywhere. Don't get any funny ideas."
I called after her coldly.
"...Kania's already in on your little group, after all."
".....!!!"
She froze, trembling, then slumped and vanished into the darkness.
Watching her go, I activated Information Search, bringing up a system window, and sighed.
"...Good."
A few days ago, curious about Perloché's mental state as she kept trying to kill me, I'd used Information Search. Back then, instead of hatred, there was worry; instead of revulsion, guilt.
Yes, the kind-hearted saintess still worried about me, like Isolet.
Even knowing I'd become the empire's destroyer, even when trying to kill me... she worried and felt guilt.
You might wonder how one worries about their assassination target, but the Church of the Sun God's doctrine explains it.
According to their teachings, upon death, souls face judgment in the afterlife: good to heaven, evil to hell. But truly wicked villains fall to purgatory—the demons' hell—for eternal torment.
Incidentally, that's in the Prophecy Book's 'game settings' too. So it's probably true.
Believing this devoutly, and knowing my good side from childhood ties, Perloché had worried I'd end up in purgatory.
Truly remarkable character.
...Abusing such a good kid. Won't sleep easy tonight.
But I had to forcibly erase her worry and guilt.
Because in the upcoming event, those who worry about me will suffer greatly.
So today, seizing the chance, I abused her and used the filthy talk she despises to sever her affection.
She'd seen such behavior before, but never directed at her—so the shock was huge.
To maintain it, I'll keep tormenting her with vile words, ensuring she never worries again.
Once she fully hates me... target Isolet next.
Doing both at once would be ideal, but I need breathing room.
Kania somehow started worrying too... but as a black mage, she's safe from the event. Lucky.
600pt (Good people are scary when angry)
"...Sigh."
Finishing my thoughts, I weakly dismissed the Villainy Points window and collapsed onto the cathedral floor, staring at the high seat where Perloché had first sat.
"Why the hell is the world set up like this...?"
It bore the Sun God's emblem prominently.
"...Can't you just hurl fire pillars at the Demon King like in legends? It's not like it'd hurt."
Muttering complaints at the emblem for a while, I stood with a resigned expression.
"...Heaven or hell for me when I die?"
Muttering the question that had plagued me forever, I shook off Perloché's pained image and slowly left the cathedral.
Time for drinks again tonight.
......
"Young Master, I'm a bit late..."
"Ah... Kania... hi..."
Practicing black magic in a secluded spot before returning late to the dorm, Kania's eyes widened at the scene.
"...What is all this, Young Master?"
"What else... booze..."
Frey sat at a desk littered with empty bottles.
"...Want a drink?"
His dazed eyes met hers amid the bottles. Frowning slightly, she asked,
"You drank all these alone?"
"...Yeah."
"But you're so weak to alcohol—how did you manage this much...?"
"...Kania."
Clearing bottles with a worried look as she approached, he gave an awkward smile.
"...I'm strong with booze."
"Pardon?"
"My mental strength is high. I don't get drunk no matter how much."
"...Ah."
She sat opposite, convinced by his forlorn sigh.
"So you were faking being drunk all this time?"
"...Yeah. Acting drunk and playing the wastrel was perfect for getting hated."
He gulped from a bottle nearby.
"...Drinking like that will ruin your health."
"Body's already wrecked. More won't hurt."
"Still, your health..."
"Pointless. Drink while I can before dying."
"........."
Worried, she tried to stop him but bowed her head, grasping the resigned meaning.
"...I'll drink with you."
"...What?"
Lifting her head suddenly after a long silence, her declaration startled him.
"...You drink well?"
"...Yes."
"Didn't know. Here, cheers."
"...Understood."
They exchanged glasses, and soon only sipping sounds filled the dorm.
......
"...You really are strong with booze."
"Thank you."
The room reeked of alcohol, but they kept going. Frey's mental stats were top-tier; Kania absorbed booze's toxins via black magic.
"...Kania, mind if I vent a bit?"
"...Please do."
Unlike her total absorption, Frey—slightly tipsy—spoke with loosened eyes.
"...I wanna quit being the hero."
"Quit then."
"...What?"
Her agreement snapped him sober, raising his voice.
"I can't...!"
"Why not?"
"If I quit, the Demon King destroys the world..."
"Destroys, not conquers?"
"Yeah, that damn bitch... doesn't even rule—just burns it all. What the hell does she want...?"
He ranted about the Demon King. Watching, Kania spoke.
"Then why say you want to quit?"
"...Oh, that?"
Opening a new bottle, he muttered while pouring.
"...It's hard."
"...I see."
Silence fell.
"...When I binged like this, Serena would smack my back."
"Yes, I remember."
Breaking the quiet with a gulp, he continued.
"Even after all my wastrel crap... she still worried."
"She's your fiancée."
"...But after today... she won't anymore?"
"...Probably."
Realizing her slip, Kania glanced at him.
"...Kania, how much do you know?"
"...Pardon?"
His sharp gaze pierced her.
"Your attitude toward me... more outings lately... rye bread with butter. It adds up to one conclusion."
"......."
"You've figured out a lot about me. Not sure how, but..."
".........."
Silent, she watched him pour calmly.
"...Went to the training grounds this morning—faint black magic traces. You tried cleaning them, but it's familiar; I noticed."
"...I see."
"Prepping for the 'commoner dorm raid' soon, right?"
She nodded quietly. Smiling, he pressed,
"Knew it. So... tell me how much you know?"
Hesitating, she finally spoke softly.
"...Everything."
"...Damn."
Glasses clinked wordlessly. She drank, forcing calm.
"...Young Master?"
He eyed her slyly, glass in hand.
"...Know what my ability says your disposition is?"
"...What?"
Setting down his glass, he murmured low.
"...Loyal Retainer."
"........."
Standing, he extended a hand.
"...Looking forward to working with you, Kania."
"...Me too."
She took it, rising with a sad smile.
Gazing at him, she tilted her head.
"...But why stand suddenly?"
"...Time for life force before bed."
"No more drinks?"
"...Doesn't cheer me up—just depresses."
Grasping her hand, he headed to bed.
"...As always, if you please."
She guided his hand to her chest...
"...But thinking about it."
"...Yes?"
"Back works better. Chest gets in the way."
"...True."
Staring blankly, she nodded in agreement.
"Then, beginning infusion."
"...Yes."
As always, his life force flowed into her.
"......."
Slightly disappointed, she bowed her head, then spotted the cat doll by his pillow and smiled faintly.
The moment her Loyal Retainer disposition shone.
......
"Though Irina told me to ignore it..."
Meanwhile, in the commoner dorm...
"...I have to help somehow."
Ariane, Irina's childhood friend, swallowed dryly, staring at the magic scroll bought with a month's tuition.