What About Me?

After collecting the dragon's corpse, the Count brought the two of them back to his domain and threw a feast.

"The heroes have returned! Raise your cups!"

"Dragon Slayer! Dragon Slayer!"

Bathed in the applause of the Count, his soldiers, and the people of the domain, Evan was swept up in a feeling he could not put into words.

Something ticklish kept stirring deep in his chest. A tingling ran through his whole body.

So this is what the heroes in fairy tales felt…

Being praised by someone felt good. Being thanked by countless people all at once?

It was a thrill beyond anything words could capture.

Evan finally understood why the heroes in those stories never took money. It wasn't simply that they lacked greed — it was that they received something far greater in its place.

If you got addicted to a feeling like this, a few coins would never be enough to sway you.

"Thank you for saving my lands."

"Saving them? Over something like this…"

"No. Without you, that mine would almost certainly have become property of the crown. All the trouble of summoning you lot to hunt the Rock Eaters would have been for nothing…"

Had Evan not slain the dragon, the miners working the shaft would have come face to face with ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. And for the crime of coveting treasure within a dragon's territory, it would have slaughtered every last one of them before reducing the Count's domain beyond to ash.

Even if the dragon had been discovered early, the mine would still have fallen under royal ownership and strict oversight. Either way, it would have been a disaster for the Count.

"Is there anything you desire? Name it and it is yours. Money, women, arms — anything at all."

"Then… could I marry your daughter, my lord?"

"What? Hmm… my daughter is already a married woman, but if that is what you wish…"

"…No. I'll pass on that one."

Recalling the noble young lady who had greeted him with a smile upon his arrival at the castle, Evan silently shed a tear and let her go. However obsessed he was with finding a girlfriend, he was not so far gone as to chase after a married woman.

"What of the others? Any woman in this manor — I will not object if you lay a hand on her."

"Psyche and the other guests are here too, though?"

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"I give you my word — they would not refuse you either."

Hearing the Count's assurance, Evan said he would think on it a little longer and stepped out into the banquet hall. The entire party had been thrown for Evan and Valkyrie — though Valkyrie's share of the glory was considerably smaller — and every eye in the room tracked him wherever he walked.

Soldiers who had marched out to face the dragon. Visiting nobles from other domains. Merchants already scheming how to get their hands on the dragon's remains. Evan cut through every one of those stares and made his way to where Valkyrie sat.

They had claimed a table of their own and were laughing among themselves when Evan suddenly pulled up a chair. Their conversation cut off at once as they turned to look at him.

"Mind if I sit?"

"Oh—! Of course, kid! Get over here!"

"Thank you. Then I will."

Anella, sitting beside the empty seat, even scooted over a little to make room for him. The rest of the party stared in open shock.

Anella? The same Anella people called a barbarian — offering consideration and yielding space first?

"You eaten yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Can't have you going hungry. Hey! One more serving over here!"

"Y-yes, right away!"

Having ordered a meal for him as well, Anella licked a scrap of meat and grease from the corner of her mouth and fixed her eyes on Evan.

Whether it was the excellent meat she had been devouring a moment ago or a newfound interest in the boy whose true nature she had finally glimpsed, the grin on Anella's face showed no sign of fading.

"Evan. They say you killed the dragon."

"Yes. I did."

"How'd you do it?"

"Even if you ask me how…"

Evan picked up the knife a servant had set before him and carefully sliced the bread on his plate. Anella let out a small sound of admiration as the loaf parted with a smoothness she could scarcely believe came from the same kind of knife they all used.

"Like this."

"…As easy as cutting cake?"

"It wasn't quite that easy…"

Watching Evan mumble around the words, Anella wore an expression that said she could hardly believe this was the legendary Dragon Slayer of the stories.

A Dragon Slayer was a title only the greatest warrior of an age could claim. You would expect such a person not merely to be confident in their skill, but to swagger about drunk on their own power, treating everyone else like dirt…

Still weird, though.

Thinking that, Anella stole a glance at Psyche. Psyche had said Evan killed the dragon. But even she had not witnessed the moment with her own eyes — she had simply reasoned that the dragon Evan pursued had died, so by process of elimination he must have been the one to cut it down.

Which means… maybe Evan didn't kill the dragon at all?

"Hey, kid."

"Yes, Miss Anella."

"Ugh, what's with the 'Miss Anella'… Call me big sis."

"…Yes, big sis."

"Did you really — kill the dragon?"

At Anella's challenge, not only Valkyrie but every guest in the banquet hall who had been eavesdropping fell silent. They, too, had harbored doubts that a child could have slain a dragon. They simply had not been bold enough to throw those doubts in the face of a fact the Count himself had certified.

"I did, I keep telling you."

"I just can't buy it… Can you prove it?"

"Anella!"

"What? You said yourself you didn't see it properly, Psyche. So maybe it wasn't him."

"I saw. …I saw him cut the dragon's wing."

"Just the wing? That half-dangling wing we saw from the start?"

Psyche, who had watched with her own eyes the impossible sight of Evan flinging sword-light from a distance as he chased the dragon, knew exactly how rude Anella was being. If Evan took offense and turned that same blade on them, she had no confidence any of them would survive.

Fortunately, Evan only laughed lightly, as if it were nothing, and rose to his feet.

"Well then. How shall we do this?"

"Hahaha—! That's more like it! —Hey, bring me my gear."

"Are you seriously… going through with this?"

"He said he would. Don't try to stop me, Psyche."

Anella glared at Psyche with eyes burning bright, then strapped on the equipment a servant brought her moments later.

Armor and shield forged from monster materials alloyed with rare minerals. And the one-handed mace she favored against human opponents. This was her complete form — the same gear that had blocked a dragon's strike even while she was wounded. Fully healed now, she could stop any frontal assault imaginable.

When Anella finished equipping and took her place in the hall, the crowd formed a curious ring around the two of them, clearing a space.

"Vanguard of Party Valkyrie. Anella."

"Uh… Evan. Nice to meet you."

"Come at me."

"Huh? Well… since big sis is weaker than me, shouldn't big sis come at me first?"

It was a roundabout way of saying he would give her the first move. Anella thought it over for a second, then burst out laughing.

"You've got a point."

"Yes. Come on, th—"

Before Evan could finish, Anella thrust her shield forward and charged. Watching her head-on, Evan felt as though a wall of solid steel were barreling straight at him.

Most people would freeze before that wall, get run over, and die or take a crippling wound… but not Evan.

How should I handle this…

He watched Anella rush toward him, her entire body hidden behind that massive shield. Ordinary fighters would have no idea where to strike. In Evan's mind, however, several ways to kill her and dozens of ways to subdue her had already arranged themselves.

All that remained was to pick the method that suited his taste. Having settled on one, he drove his sword straight at the shield.

"What the…?"

Thrusting a blade into a solid hunk of metal — Anella thought it the stupidest thing she had ever seen. Then the sword passed clean through her shield as if it were nothing, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

It had not cut. Not exactly. Like a phantom, the blade slipped through her shield, severed every strap and fastening that held her armor in place, and slid back into its scabbard.

By the time Evan sheathed his sword, Anella's equipment was tumbling to the floor as if its duty were done.

Disarmed in an instant, Anella stood frozen, staring at him.

"…You. What the hell did you just do?"

"Uh… I just cut it?"

"I saw that much. —But what is this?"

Anella pointed at her shield. Not a single scratch. Not a puncture. A perfectly clean surface.

"How come there's no mark where you cut?"

"It's a little hard to explain. I just poked the gaps. Something like that?"

"…Could you do that to me?"

"What do you mean…?"

"Could you use it on my body."

"Yes."

Watching Evan nod as if it were no great difficulty, Anella felt her heart stop.

A sword that had slipped through armor like that would pierce muscle and bone just as easily. And if that blade, once inside, cut only the heart, the organs — only whatever part he chose — and passed on through? She would collapse without the slightest chance to resist.

No living thing stayed upright after having its guts sliced open.

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"Insane…"

Having faced him herself, Anella had no choice but to believe Evan had killed the dragon. With swordsmanship like that, what was a dragon? He could probably cut down the Demon King if one ever rose again.

And at the same time — Anella realized what she had done. She had doubted a swordsman of this caliber and rudely demanded he prove himself.

If he had taken her head for it, she would have had no grounds to complain.

"…Ahem. Evan. Wanna have sex?"

"Ehk— No thank you."

"Oh, why!? Sure, I'm no Count's daughter — but I'm not a married woman either!"

"Well… the way you say things like that at the drop of a hat makes you seem a bit like a whore…"

"W-what?"

Anella went rigid with shock.

For the record, she was a virgin.

Still one, even past the age of twenty.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

The party ended.

I would have preferred to head straight back to the Royal Capital, but the Count's relentless hospitality left us staying one more night in his domain.

"Whoa… this bed is something else."

The bed was so vast that five grown men could have lain on it without filling it. I let out a sound of pure admiration and flung myself onto it. The plush mattress wrapped my whole body in softness.

Magic? It had to be magic. Softness like this could not be explained any other way.

I was burrowing deeper into the bed — so snug it was almost indecent — when someone knocked on the door.

…Evan. Are you there?

"Psyche?"

It was Psyche. Wondering what she could want, I opened the door — and tilted my head at the figure standing there.

She was wrapped head to toe in a robe.

"M-may I come in?"

"Yees… is something the matter?"

"Inside. Let's talk inside."

She looked so restless, so desperate to get out of the hallway, that I ushered her in at once. Only then did Psyche let out a long breath of relief.

And then she shrugged off the robe with a soft thud.

What she was wearing underneath froze me solid.

It was nightwear far too shameless to show anyone — a nameless little outfit through which her underthings were plainly visible.

"P-Psyche…? Wh-what is this all of a sudden…"

"…You said it earlier. That Anella was too much like a whore, so you didn't want her."

"Y-yes? D-did I… say that?"

Had I? I could barely remember.

No — I simply could not tear my eyes away from the woman ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠standing in front of me.