Something shot through the air like an arrow.
Herace’s yellow and red eyes widened in shock.
Luke tackled him, rolling them both out of the blast’s path.
Though they avoided direct contact, the proximity meant damage was inevitable.
The expensive, glossy clothes Herace had painstakingly acquired melted away completely.
His back bore a new scar.
Luke groaned in pain, his breathing ragged.
“You’re not… dying on your own… without my permission…”
“Who said I wanted to die…?!”
He had wanted to die.
It was infuriating.
The chimera, having poured every ounce of its remaining power into the attack, shriveled up like a wrung-out sponge, completely drained of life.
“Dumbass…”
Luke coughed violently.
His battered insides rebelled, forcing him to spit out bloody chunks.
The texture disgusted him more than the taste.
“You’re alive… because I said so…”
Luke collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Herace stared at him in a daze.
‘Why did he save me?’
He understood the desire to prove oneself, to avoid losing a chance at recognition.
But… wasn’t this truly risking one’s life?
For someone who had treated him as nothing more than a slave, who had disregarded his will and dragged him around, Luke had no reason to go this far.
Herace couldn’t understand how things had reached this point.
If only he could review it step by step, like watching footage in a monitor room.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
Once inside the story, he couldn’t leave until the job was done.
At the very least, he needed to get the protagonist the stat window.
Herace retrieved the magic stone from the chimera’s corpse—a blue gem radiating a strange energy.
It wasn’t possible to feed the stone directly to an unconscious person.
Herace cracked it into smaller pieces and forced them into Luke’s mouth, pouring water in to help him swallow.
Once done, tension drained from him.
‘What is this…?’
After all the effort of playing weak and letting the protagonist protect him, he hadn’t even managed to make a clean exit from the story.
‘I’m supposed to be the villain.’
If he disappeared now, the narrative would undoubtedly fall apart.
But perhaps he could rewrite it. He still had two uses of “overwrite” left.
If he made it look like he had died here, everything might still work out.
Luke’s memory could be manipulated afterward.
Interfering with the protagonist’s memory was risky and went against the rules, but it seemed less problematic than becoming entangled in the plot as a supporting character.
He could justify it in his report.
He felt utterly drained.
Since he intended to overwrite everything anyway, maybe he could rest a bit.
Herace covered his face with one hand.
For the first time in ages, he just wanted to sleep.
He was mentally exhausted.
And so, Herace lay down beside the unconscious Luke and drifted off.
After all, humans often acted irrationally when their minds were in turmoil.
Someone was shaking Herace awake from his sleep.
“Hey, hey!”
Who could it be…?
“Wake up!”
Who is it…
“I’m telling you, something’s weird! Is this magic? A curse? Did your boss or whoever do something before leaving?”
Who else could it be?
It had to be Luke, the only one who had fallen asleep with him in the cave.
Herace, disoriented after waking from decades of peaceful sleep, struggled to gather his thoughts.
Rubbing his blurry eyes, he began to make sense of his surroundings.
The faint outlines of the cave came into focus: the chimera they had caught last time and the translucent status window floating in front of Luke.
‘At least this part seems to have worked.’
That was a relief.
Now came the task of overwriting Luke’s memories and shaping them as needed.
Since those memories would be erased anyway, Herace didn’t see the need to give proper answers to Luke’s questions.
“If something pops up in front of you, just read it. You’ll figure it out.”
His tone came off curt, likely due to being rudely awakened from a deep sleep.
According to the original plan, the top of the window should clearly display the word “Status.”
Of course, a character from a novel who had never encountered a computer game wouldn’t know what a status window was.
But with stats like strength and magic listed, they’d get a rough idea after looking at it for a while.
“You can see this too? I was worried I’d gone insane! Thank goodness…”
Actually, no one else was supposed to see the status window.
If just anyone could easily access the protagonist’s abilities, it would lose its uniqueness.
Herace, as an agent of the Dimensional Management Bureau with the ability to meddle in worlds, was the only exception.
Not that he intended to explain any of this.
“And you expect me to read this?”
“Yes.”
‘He’s a noble; he must be literate, surely? Even if he’s a scoundrel,’ Herace thought, puzzled by what seemed like an absurd question.
“…I can’t read this at all.”
“What?”
Still groggy, Herace pulled out a water flask and splashed cold water on the mask covering his face.
The shock woke him up completely.
“Why are you washing your face over the mask?”
“That’s not important right now.”
“Fair point.”
Luke, intensely curious about the translucent window in front of him, turned his attention back to it without further argument.
Its purpose was to provide objective information about the protagonist’s status and offer intuitive guidance on how to grow stronger.
‘Status Window.’
“This…?”
But the status window, designed to give the protagonist crucial information, was written in an entirely unrecognizable language.
Of course, Luke wouldn’t understand it.
It was written in Herace’s native tongue—a language from another dimension, another country.
Because Luke hadn’t absorbed the magic stone himself but had been forcibly imbued with it by Herace, the system had gotten confused about its owner.
While Luke had gained access to the status window, the person meant to read it was Herace.
A massive blunder.
‘This is a disaster.’
There was no immediate fix.
‘According to the system’s rules, the only way to detach a skill bound to someone is through death.’
Which meant Herace would have to die.
But that wasn’t an option.
Leaving the dimension might offer a chance at separation, but there was no guarantee.
And taking it outside would create even bigger problems.
Reentering the dimension after leaving would be almost impossible.
Even a dimension that had been breached once wouldn’t welcome intruders a second time.
The causality cost of a second intrusion would be astronomical.
‘I just have to hope someone outside can figure out a solution…’
Herace couldn’t leave, but he could maintain periodic contact, thanks to fairies who could naturally traverse dimensions.
Fairies, with their minimal presence, had no impact on other dimensions but were useful for messages.
‘So much for his smugness! Herace finally gets a taste of his own medicine!’
Imagining what the fairies would say when they met, Herace pressed his fingers to his forehead.
His pride would take a hit, but he’d have to ask for their cooperation.
Of course, it would be ideal if the problem were solved before the meeting.
Herace resolved to personally investigate whether skill detachment was possible within this world’s rules.
‘Why did you even bother saving me?’
The frustration simmered inside him, but this wasn’t Luke’s fault.
How could the protagonist have known the consequences of saving someone?
If anyone was to blame, it was Herace for pretending to be helpless.
Luke, still clueless, looked increasingly uneasy at Herace’s silence.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Herace’s unusual quietness only heightened Luke’s anxiety.
He nervously tried to glimpse Herace’s expression beneath the mask.
In Herace’s crimson and golden eyes, faint traces of exasperation flickered.
“Tell me! What’s wrong? Is this dangerous?”
The moment he realized how serious it was, Luke bombarded him with rapid-fire questions.
“Am I going to die?”
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