Julen's Point of View

  I heard loud noises coming from the high elf's quarters, and when I arrived, I was shocked to see my boss, the great hero—one of the finest in our realm—cleaning his own room, which looked like a disaster zone. "Oh, the colleague of Thailon! I'm sorry for the noise. It's just that this child doesn't know how to clean his own room" that woman said, waving a hand dismissively at the chaos. She was really something else! The way she talked to the great hero was beyond concerning. I had detected earlier that she was a normal human, but there was something about her strength that made me think she could be the headmaster's lover. But now? I was witnessing what looked like a mother scolding her child.

  "Lara, I can't do this anymore! This is my room! Why bother cleaning it? You won't even rest here!" the great hero protested, his tone filled with frustration.

  My eyes widened.

  Did he just call her Lara?

  You mean the greatest hero, Laraeon?

  I thought she was a man, or perhaps just a legend—a dead one, at that. But the only "Lara" the great hero called was Laraeon.

  I suddenly understood why there was a statue of her in the fountain; it represented the truth that Laraeon was indeed a woman! This person before me was the greatest hero who had led a party of legendary warriors to defeat the demon king! No it can't be- her and the statue doesn't loo the same at all.

  "This is the reason why I didn't want you in my tent before—clean it!" she shouted, her tone leaving no room for argument. Tent before? So, she really is Laraeon?

  "Why do you have so many clothes? Gather them up!" she barked again, making me gasp. What shocked me more was the sight of the great hero dutifully gathering his clothes as if she were the queen of his realm.

  She bent down, picked up a shirt, and smelled it, her face twisting into an expression of disgust. I almost found it funny. "This is laundry that's been sitting for at least three weeks! You could start a whole new civilization with the smell coming from this pile!" she mocked, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

  The great hero grimaced, his cheeks turning crimson. "I... I didn't think it was that bad!" he protested, but I was astounded. This was truly happening—the almighty high elf, who had shown little emotion and perfect composure, was now acting like a child caught in a mess.

  "Clean this like you clean your face!" she said, punctuating her words with an air of authority. "You know, with actual soap!"

  Then she turned to me. "Oh, I really apologize for seeing this. It must be hard for you to work with him. He must be a child with no sense of cleanliness, but you know, he's still a nice child. I hope you understand him," she said, her tone like that of a caring mother.

  Isn't he younger than the great hero? But if she really is Laraeon...

  "Thailon," she called him softly but when she called him softly it was scary enough to put shivers down to my spine.

  "Y-yes!" he immediately answered, almost as if he were a dog responding to a command. Am I really seeing this?

  "Put it in a laundry basket, not on your bed!" she demanded, hands on her hips like a true matriarch.

  "Okay, okay! I'll clean it!" the great hero replied, now obediently gathering his clothes. Was I dreaming? Am I dying today to witness this? Then she tossed some clothes toward him like confetti, and he glared at her.

  "This is the last time I let you in my room!"

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  "Sure, sure. Next time, I expect a five-star room," she teased, and the playful banter was both frightening and charming.

  "Look at this! Fashion from three weeks ago, in its natural habitat!" she exclaimed, twirling a shirt like she was on a runway. I couldn't help but laugh, even as I noticed the redness creeping up the great hero's face.

  "Just remember, if I have to come back here again, I'm charging you for cleaning services!" she winked at him, her confidence shining through.

  "Can I at least charge you for emotional damage?" he shot back, but I could see the happiness in his eyes, as if he had just discovered something precious.

  Could it be that he has feelings for her? Is he really losing his mind, falling for a woman who bears no resemblance to the legendary Laraeon? I thought she would be someone with blonde hair and golden eyes, as I had been informed. But this woman had brown hair and dark eyes—so ordinary in appearance.

  As I stood there, I realized that ever since Laraeon had been lost for two hundred years, Head master might just be going crazy, mistaking random people for her. I could only watch as this peculiar bond blossomed in front of me, unsure of what it all meant for our world—and for the great hero himself. This is something else.

  Lara's Point of View: At Night

  "See? I told you this is why I can't leave! Look what happened to you!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with frustration as I knelt beside Fernin, who lay on the ground, his face contorted in pain. I

  "Is he overreacting?" I glanced at Owen, who stood ready to shift, his muscles tense and coiled like a spring.

  "I think he is," Owen replied, his tone laced with skepticism.

  Fernin. He turned to me, a slight smile breaking through his seriousness. "My dear sister, did you have fun?"

  "Well, he did show some amazing things" I admitted, my mind racing back to the impressive display of magic I had witnessed.

  "Oh, and he's actually a teacher at the academy."

  "A teacher? You're not mistaken about that?" Owen interjected, raising an eyebrow.

  "Trust me, I'm not. He also has a colleague named Julen who seems to be quite stiff about me," I added, my thoughts still tangled in the day's events.

  "Oh, here's your day's payment," I said, reaching into my pouch and offering Owen fifty-five silver coins. He took them gratefully, his fingers brushing against mine.

  "Thank you," he said immediately, his eyes gleaming with appreciation.

  "Where are you going to stay for tonight?" I asked, shifting my gaze from Fernin to Owen, concern etched on my face.

  I've been concern.

  "I think I'll find a nearby inn," he replied, glancing around the darkening street. "Just wait at least a month. I'll build us a home; I just need some materials to get started."

  "You mean all high-class materials that are waterproof, fireproof, and monster-proof? It's not like we're going to war," Fernin scoffed, as if insulting me. I simply nudge him in his shoulder as a reaction.

  "It's better to be cautious," I countered, my resolve hardening. My heart raced at the thought of danger lurking around every corner.

  Silence settled over us, heavy and foreboding. The night was thick with tension, and I felt the weight of the system lurking in the background, its presence an ominous shadow. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was waiting, watching, deciding if it would let me work again—if it would send me back into the fray, endangering the very people who meant the most to me.

  And most of all it will get my hands dirty again.

  With a sigh, I looked down at Fernin, who still grimaced in discomfort. "You should have listened," I murmured softly, guilt gnawing at me.

  Somewhere in Veladrin

  Third Person Point of View

  In a dimly lit alleyway, tucked in between crumbling buildings, sat a bar in the perfect location for those seeking discreet exchanges. The atmosphere was thick with shadows, and the patrons inside kept to themselves. A man in a black robe silently approached the counter, taking a seat before the bartender.

  "I'm here for the Golden Shot," he said, his voice low and purposeful.

  The bartender immediately understood. Without a word, he began preparing the requested drink, but this time, it came with a note—a small, folded piece of parchment slipped beneath the shot glass. The man in the black robe opened it, his eyes scanning the contents.

  All items belonging to Lara, the Great Hero, have been destroyed. Shattered into pieces by no known hand.

  His eyes widened in shock. He stood abruptly, the sudden movement causing his hood to fall, revealing his identity to the room. The man's black hair gleamed under the dim light, and his yellow eyes caught the attention of everyone present.

  He is the descendant of Priest Caelum, one of the legendary heroes.

  Gasps filled the bar as adventurers recognized him. Flustered, he quickly pulled his hood back up, trying to regain his composure.

  "If this information is true... why does no one else seem to know anything?" he muttered to himself, his brows furrowed in confusion.

  Because the only reason that the item Lara would shattered in the hands of others is if the owner is alive.