Crystal-Clear Elluke (3)

I sat there watching Liam, his forehead planted firmly against the floor.

I'd left him alone, curious how long he'd keep it up—but five minutes had already passed without so much as a twitch. He was, quite literally, immovable.

Some kindhearted viewer had apparently watched long enough to get worried. A needless concern.

"It's fine. There's nothing to worry about."

If it had been anything that would actually strain his body, I would have dragged him up myself. Ridiculous as he looked right now, he was still the father of my three children—and my husband.

But Liam wasn't struggling in the slightest.

"Everyone, that man is a former Hero. He could stay like that all day and be perfectly fine."

A Hero who had awakened and ascended to the realm of a Demigod. Looking at his everyday behavior, it was hard to believe—but that menace was, in any case, an extraordinary being.

For Liam, the headstand punishment wasn't torture. It was just a slightly unusual posture. It didn't hurt him at all.

Planting his head on the floor like this was nothing more than a performance—a show to prove he regretted every last one of his past mistakes.

"He'll stop on his own, so you can just leave him be."

I pulled my gaze away from Liam and toyed with the frame of the Sun Blocker in my hand as I went on.

"This isn't even the first time. He's apologized with his body a few times before. I forgave him every time, and here he is making another scene."

Liam periodically felt sorry toward me.

It wasn't such a bad thing. A perpetrator who refused to forget the past and continued to reflect was, in its own way, a healthy mindset.

Of course, just thinking about all the hell I'd gone through during the Hero party days still made my blood boil. Even so, I no longer wanted to hold those sins against him. It was all in the past.

The complaints I'd aired earlier had simply surfaced on their own. I hadn't brought them up because I wanted to resent him.

"Anyway, please don't mind him and focus on the game again."

I tugged the corners of my mouth into a smile and reached for the mouse—and that was when Liam, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up.

"When she says I apologized with my body, she doesn't mean getting punished like this. It's something a lot hotter than that."

"...Liam!"

I'd been trying to glide right past it, and he just had to sabotage me. I shoved the Sun Blocker back on and shouted.

But that wasn't nearly enough. The menace ignored me and kept going.

"Actually, when you were pregnant with the twins, you were still a little sulky about the old days. So I went at it pretty intensely..."

I ended up lunging forward in a panic and clamping my hand over Liam's mouth. Even then he tried to keep babbling, so I thumped my fist against his back.

Only then did he finally shut up.

By that point, though, he'd already dropped out of the headstand and was sprawled on the floor, gazing up at me. A soft smile played at the corners of his lips.

"What are you looking at?"

He'd just tried to air something indecent on a live broadcast, and now he was smiling like he'd done something clever. I glared at him, thoroughly unimpressed.

But even under my fiercest stare, Liam's smile only grew more languid.

"...Why are you smiling?"

"Because you talking casually like that reminds me of when you were a Saintess. You always spoke so roughly, but you still took care of me until the very end."

"......"

The playfulness vanished completely from Liam's face. All of a sudden, the atmosphere had turned earnest.

He slowly pushed himself up and began leaning his face toward mine. Without thinking, I shut my eyes and clenched both fists.

"...Wait."

But I came to my senses a moment later and shoved the menace's face away with my hand. I had the Sun Blocker to thank for that—the one that kept my heart calm.

I hesitated for a beat, then whispered quietly.

"Later."

"What was that?"

Liam pretended not to hear and asked again, raising his voice. Every time he did this, I felt a powerful urge to throw a punch.

Ordinarily, I would have given in and done what he wanted.

"Get out. Now."

But with the Sun Blocker on, I could make the wise call no matter the situation.

This time I didn't let it slide. I grabbed the menace by the collar and hauled him out of the room. And just like that, peace returned to the master bedroom.

Not that it was a situation worth celebrating.

...They saw all of that.

We'd gone back and forth about all sorts of things on a live broadcast—not in private—and we'd nearly done something embarrassing on top of it. It was more than enough to poke at the mischievous streak of an already rowdy audience.

I already had a pretty good idea how they'd react. The donation chime had been going off nonstop for a while now.

The chat was probably flying, too.

Should I just run?

I seriously considered bolting, but in the end I shuffled over to the computer and sat down.

Then I cautiously glanced at the right side of the monitor—where the chat window was scrolling at an alarming speed.

I watched the pandemonium for a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moment and let out a dry laugh.

"...Why are you all so excited?"

The more I read, the hotter my face grew. If not for the Sun Blocker's calming effect, I might have died of embarrassment on the spot. A crushing wave of mortification was rolling in.

And through it all, the donation alerts just kept coming.

Everyone else was having the time of their lives. I was the only one sitting there with no idea what to do. My heart was calm, and yet I still couldn't form a single decent judgment.

The Sun Blocker had stopped being useful, so I finally just took it off and tried to salvage the situation.

"Everyone, please settle down. You are getting far too overheated."

Needless to say, my words did not reach them. It was as if they'd left me behind and thrown a party among themselves.

Would it be so bad if I just ended the stream right here? They were having fun without me anyway.

I wrestled with the urge to shut everything down and, just barely, managed to recover my composure—thanks to the equanimity I'd tempered as Pope.

"Please focus again."

I ignored the chat window, which was still cackling away, and turned my eyes back to the game. My neglected character, YoungPopeElluke, was staring blankly into empty space.

I needed to complete the quest Bishop Christina had given ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me, and that required party play.

Even if all I wanted was to watch the story, I had no choice but to form a party with other people. For me, that was a higher barrier than most fortress walls.

"To be honest, even before I was possessed, I almost never played multiplayer games. I never liked the idea of a match being decided by how good or bad a complete stranger on my team happened to be."

Since party play was mandatory, Solar Scepter would have a random matchmaking system as well. That only made me hate it more.

Even the Hero party I'd been close with had been a struggle thanks to Liam alone. An entire team of strangers? It was, without exaggeration, the worst system imaginable.

I was sitting there grimacing, reluctant to keep playing, when—

A viewer cut in with a suddenly sharp observation. A fair suspicion.

"......"

I opened and closed my mouth, groping for something to say, then finally hung my head.

"You're right.... I didn't want to play with strangers, but I didn't have any friends, so I couldn't play multiplayer games...."

The more I mumbled, the smaller my voice became. My face was burning all over again.

And thanks to the chat, I was starting to feel a little miserable, too.

At a glance it looked like they were comforting me, but in reality it was just a second party—only quieter than the last one.

And the owner of one particularly conspicuous username was having even more fun than the rest.

Seoyun, the only person I'd ever been close with, used to tease me like this from time to time even in the old days. It was her own way of showing affection.

That was that, though. I still had a job to do.

"Liam, if you would."

The instant I gave the order, ToxicGinger's message flipped to a deletion notice. He'd probably thrown in a ten-minute timeout as well.

With one menace removed, the chat's momentum eased a little. It was still running hot, though.

...This is exhausting.

The stream felt especially draining today. I glanced over the chat, still scrolling at speed, and spoke.

"I will end today's Solar Scepter session here."

I logged out of the game and sat for a moment, lost in thought.

Solar Scepter.

It really was not an easy game. 3D motion sickness, the risk of spoilers, and now mandatory cooperation on top of it all. There were far too many hurdles to clear.

Was I supposed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say goodbye to Solar Scepter here? But letting it go like this felt a little too disappointing. I hadn't even found the connecting thread to the previous game yet.

Besides, I wanted to keep playing if only to see Pope Clityia—the boss monster Oh Pil-seong had promised to release—with my own eyes.

I needed to enjoy it a little longer. But to do that, party play was mandatory. The two facts were colliding head-on.

What was I supposed to do in a situation like this? I turned it over and over in my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mind, and then a brilliant idea suddenly struck me.

"Everyone, do you remember that last stream I publicly recruited someone to work with me?"

Last time, I had put out a call for an officer of external affairs—someone who would serve as this world's equivalent of a highest-ranking Holy Knight.

Resumes had gone to Seoyun's email, and apparently far more people had applied than expected.

Where people gathered, talent gathered, and among them there were bound to be people who specialized in games.

In other words, I could easily gather exactly the kind of people I wanted.

"I will announce this in advance. Those of you who do not pass the upcoming interview for the external affairs position will be given the opportunity to apply for another opening."

I offered a warm smile and pointed my index finger at the webcam.

The moment I made the announcement so proudly, a donation alert rang out.

"...Is it that bad?"

Apparently "cyber" had become a dated expression.

Fortunately, a replacement word came to me almost immediately. It was a term I'd picked up while browsing the internet on my smartphone.

"Then I shall call it the Metaverse Hero Party. That's not bad, is it?"

It was a trendy word these days, so this time it would surely sound sophisticated. Or so I thought. Reality was merciless.

"Why would that be...."

I'd felt this last time, too—I truly could not understand modern sensibilities.