We leave the throne hall under a barrage of hostile stares. At least my attentive escorts had the decency to untie my hands again.

  Leana marches ahead at a brisk pace, explaining things as she goes. Rin and I stumble along behind her.

  “My people have already taken care of your horses and moved your belongings to a room where you will spend the night under guard,” she says coolly.

  “We depart early tomorrow and leave the elven village heading west. That is where your first quest begins.”

  “I will not interfere and will only observe. Should you fail your tasks—or die—you will have failed.”

  It bothers me more than I’d like to admit that I’ve finally found my elf, and yet she still feels distant. Maybe she’ll warm up during our exciting journey and shared adventures.

  I would really like to nibble on her ears.

  The night passes without major incidents.

  Rin and I take turns washing in a wooden bathtub. Leana and her people brought it into the room with the charming words, “You stink.” Rin even lets me go first.

  The water is ice-cold—but at least it’s clean. Hopefully I don’t catch a cold. I’ve always hated cold showers. I am a proud warm-shower person.

  After I’m done, Rin thoroughly cleans and heats the water using magic.

  I feel betrayed.

  Rin and I have known each other since childhood—more than just friends. When we were kids, she was like an older sister, making sure I behaved. Over the years, that changed.

  She still chews me out like before—but now there’s love mixed in.

  I love her. I trust her more than anyone else in this world.

  Thankfully, I’m older on the inside than I look. If I were an actual teenager, I’d probably have died of embarrassment and nerves by now. That spares us from awkward, blushing conversations like “Turn around” or “Leave the room.”

  Instead, I lie on the bed and watch Rin bathe, sighing contentedly in the tub.

  She’s really something.

  I admire her generous curves, slim waist, and silky skin. Her usually wild, fiery red hair hangs down wet, framing her face. I can’t get enough of her.

  Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

  Every so often, she opens one eye to check whether I’m still watching—only to sink back into the hot water completely.

  When Rin finishes bathing, she immediately conjures ice cubes into the water—before I can even ask whether I can warm up after her.

  I don’t think I’m going out on a limb assuming she’s upset.

  I’m not allowed in the bed either and get exiled to the floor with a blanket.

  Normally, the fact that there’s only one bed doesn’t bother me. Right now, it’s unfortunate.

  After that bath scene, I would have loved to crawl under the covers with her. I’m sure I would’ve warmed up again.

  Apparently, my thoughts are written all over my face, because Rin puts on that wicked, knowing grin.

  She crushes my dream mercilessly.

  “You’re not sleeping in my bed tonight,” she says.

  “Watching me bathe is all you’re getting. And after the way you were drooling in the throne hall, you’re welcome to ask Leana if she wants to share a bed with you.”

  Life is cruel.

  The glorious beginning of my happy harem life starts with me sleeping alone on a cold floor.

  I’m definitely going to catch a cold.

  Rin is a monster.

  “Achoo!”

  The next morning, I feel unrested, my back aches, and my nose is running. Rin hops out of bed while I peel myself off the floor.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Good morning, Arik! You don’t look so great,” she chirps.

  “Pull yourself together, Hero! The fate of the world depends on your success.”

  “Good morning. Who do you think I owe my miserable condition to?”

  Rin looks me straight in the eyes, then concludes,

  “Mostly yourself. But I’m not heartless—tonight you can sleep in my bed again. I’ll nurse you back to health.”

  That shy, sweet smile.

  I can’t stay mad at her. She’s stolen my heart again.

  I smile back, though my dignity is slightly compromised by the runny nose.

  “Thanks, Rin. Then I’m looking forward to tonight!”

  “You should,” she replies with a seductive wink—then tilts her head thoughtfully.

  “Although… now that I think about it, last night was probably the last night in a proper bed for a while. With the quests, we’ll be out in the forest. We’ll sleep outside by the campfire, each in our own bedroll, taking turns on watch.”

  “And Leana will be with us. With no privacy, you can forget about anything happening between us.”

  I am powerless.

  Against the Goddess of Monsters, I stand no chance.

  ***

  “Sleep well?” Leana is already waiting at the exit of the elven village, handing us some fruit and bread.

  We greet her. I carefully avoid any mention of last night.

  At least now I’m sure: elves are vegetarians.

  Right?

  Back in my element—my fantasy knowledge is limitless.

  Leana rummages through her bag and hands me a piece of ham.

  I stare at her in disbelief.

  “Don’t you eat meat?” she asks, just as confused.

  I take the ham and share it with Rin.

  Today is really not my day.

  Dejected, I trail after them while Rin and Leana seem engaged in lively conversation.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Leana asks.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Rin replies.

  “He’s always like that. Just ignore him.”

  I catch bits of their conversation—and promptly tune it out.

  I don’t want to hear this right now.

  Instead, I focus on our surroundings and stay alert.

  The path we’re walking is surprisingly well maintained for a forest trail. It’s not a simple dirt track—the ground has been reinforced and widened, with no plants growing on it.

  I had expected to hack our way through the undergrowth with machetes, like some whip-wielding adventurer with a fancy hat.

  Lost in nostalgic thoughts, I’m suddenly pulled back by unusual sounds off the path—loud laughter and children’s voices.

  I look over and see several elven children running through the trees with wooden sticks or swinging from branch to branch.

  That settles it.

  Elves evolved from monkeys too.

  While I mentally revise evolutionary theory, we arrive at a cave.

  We’re alone, though the children’s voices still echo faintly in the distance.

  Leana steps in front of us, her expression serious.

  “We will enter this cave. Inside, your quest awaits,” she says.

  “I will not interfere—even if it becomes dangerous and you die.”

  She really doesn’t need to keep mentioning the dying part. It makes me nervous.

  Rin and I exchange a glance and step into the dark, cold, impenetrable cave.

  Or so I thought.

  The cave is surprisingly well-lit. Glowing stones are embedded in the walls at regular intervals, and the path slopes gently downward.

  Honestly, this could pass as wheelchair accessible.

  After half an hour of walking, we reach a large, dark cavern where water drips from the ceiling.

  Finally.

  This is what a proper adventure cave should look like.

  We cautiously look around—and something moves in the darkness.

  Then the entire cave comes alive.

  Spiders crawl toward us from every direction.

  Not normal spiders.

  These are the size of cows.

  Nope.

  I’m done. I want to go back outside.

  Why spiders?

  Even small ones on the ceiling are creepy enough. I’m not a fan.

  Back home, my girlfriend always escorted spiders outside with a glass and a piece of cardboard. When I encountered one alone, there were only two options: it or me.

  I’m just about to panic when a gigantic black spider with a white cross on its abdomen descends from the ceiling into the center of the chamber.

  I feel sick.

  So this is the spider boss.

  I can’t help thinking of a scarred little wizard who once found himself in a similar situation.

  Any second now, this absurdly large spider will start talking and declare us “food for its offspring.”

  But something feels off.

  Not just the fact that the spider clearly can’t talk.

  I make a decision.

  Slowly, I let go of my sword and turn to Rin, who’s tense beside me.

  “Rin. I’m going to try something stupid,” I say quietly.

  “I need you to back me up with magic.”

  “Understood. Be careful,” she replies.

  “Similar spider monsters attacked a village near the capital two years ago. Their venom is extremely deadly.”

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Her last words are accompanied by a soft, longing smile.

  Typical Rin.

  She says incredibly sweet things in the worst possible situations.

  She’s right.

  I don’t want to die.

  I don’t want Rin to cry.

  Unfortunately, I can’t always rely on my instincts. My previous death proves that.

  I wasn’t taken to this world by some cliché truck accident. It was pathetically mundane.

  I’d been celebrating the end of exams with friends. On the way home, I felt invincible—the king of the world.

  So I ignored my friend’s advice and rode my bike home.

  The last thing I remember is trying to ride up a curb—and falling.

  Badly.

  Then darkness.

  When I woke up, I couldn’t move or speak. Hospital, I thought—but there was no doctor.

  I didn’t recognize anyone. I wasn’t in a bed.

  I was being held.

  A sweaty young woman leaned over me, smiled weakly, and kissed my forehead.

  When I noticed my tiny, ridiculously cute hands, I reached one conclusion:

  “I’m an idiot.”

  I will never die like that again.

  Not for Rin’s sake—and not for my pride.

  And despite everything, I’m fairly confident in my plan.

  I didn’t analyze fantasy plots for thousands of hours for nothing.

  An idea strikes me—one that might put Rin on the spot for once.

  Today, she won’t get me. This time, it’s her turn.

  I want to see cool, composed Rin act like one of those shy girls from my stories.

  “Didn’t you mean that the world wouldn’t want to lose its Hero?” I challenge her.

  Rin looks me straight in the eyes.

  No embarrassment. Not even a flicker.

  “What I said is exactly what I meant,” she replies calmly.

  “You know how much you mean to me. I can’t—and don’t want to—imagine a life without you.”

  Damn it.

  That’s not how this was supposed to go.

  Heat rushes to my face.

  Before I fully turn into a tomato, I turn away.

  “S-same here… I-I’ll be careful.”

  With that—and a desperate attempt to salvage my dignity—I head deeper into the cave.