‘Then what’s with this attitude?’
Why was Herace suddenly acting as if Luke were trash he wouldn’t bat an eye at if he disappeared?
Luke’s blood boiled.
‘Is it because I took the skill?’
If that’s all, he might as well give it back—no, that’s not an option.
There’s no immediate way to transfer it, and losing this skill would mean losing the key to overcoming his magic insensitivity.
He hadn’t even had the chance to use the sword aura, which could be activated twice daily.
This skill couldn’t be given up.
Besides, hadn’t they already agreed?
Once he overcame his magic insensitivity, he would hand it over.
Couldn’t Herace wait?
Acting all petty like that? What a narrow-minded jerk.
Of course, Luke conveniently ignored the fact that he’d made it clear he had no intention of handing it over.
‘Or is it because I hugged him earlier?’
That could be it.
Now that Luke thought about it, he wouldn’t feel great if someone randomly shoved their face into his chest, especially when they were already annoyed about losing something they wanted.
On top of that, that monster seemed to really like “that person.”
Maybe he was worried Luke would get stronger with the system window or whatever and steal that person’s favor.
‘So that’s why?’
Must be! With Luke’s straightforward thinking, there was no deriving any deeper reason.
Expecting an ordinary novel protagonist to contemplate something like a Dimensional Management Bureau was asking too much.
“Are you listening?”
Having reached his own conclusion, Luke decided to offer an olive branch to ensure smoother cooperation with Herace.
He would apologize for his impulsive actions.
“Hey, are you listening?”
This was something he never would’ve done while living as the troublemaker of the Count’s family.
“Hey, sorry about earlier.”
Naturally, it shocked Herace to the core.
The protagonist apologizing to a villain?
The look of utter disbelief beneath the mask was palpable.
His eyes went so wide that even the mask covering his entire face couldn’t hide his astonishment.
He seemed even more shocked than when Luke hugged him earlier.
Seeing Herace’s reaction, Luke felt his irritation surge again.
“Why are you reacting like that?”
“Because you apologized!”
“I can apologize, you know. I have a brain, and I think!”
“I never said you didn’t think. But still…”
“If I thought like that, I wouldn’t be apologizing now.”
Herace silently vowed to say it next time. This time was already too late.
“Ugh, fine. Sorry for hugging you without permission. I won’t do it again. Can you at least listen to me all the way through?”
Luke, growing irritable, explained himself.
It seemed he thought Herace wasn’t accepting the apology because he genuinely hated it, which was true.
Sometimes, subtle derision feels worse than outright insults.
“That’s… obvious.”
Herace’s answer came out half-dazed.
Standing still when Luke hugged him earlier had been a mistake, and if such a thing never happened again, it wouldn’t be an issue.
That was ideal for him.
But achieving that through the protagonist’s goodwill was unsettling.
It felt like an admission that Herace’s behavior after the hug had been transparent even to a single-minded protagonist.
‘To think he noticed that.’
It was humiliating.
The age difference between them was huge, and sure, protagonists often had an animalistic intuition, but still.
Setting personal grievances aside, letting the protagonist notice a villain’s emotional changes wasn’t ideal.
It felt like leaving breadcrumbs for the plot.
Consider this:
The villain, who had agreed to cooperate with the protagonist, suddenly displayed a more disdainful attitude toward him despite their words.
Readers would see that as a hint that their relationship was doomed to crumble soon.
Modern readers, who demanded fast-paced narratives, would expect such a plotline to resolve within five chapters.
Unfortunately for Herace, he had no intention of separating from Luke anytime soon.
Ruining the novel with his own actions would be unprofessional.
‘Can’t let that happen.’
Sudden shifts in attitude were risky.
Whatever his inner thoughts, he had to behave outwardly as usual.
Instead, he would gradually show negative emotions, letting them build up until they became the seeds of his departure.
It was tedious, but the safest course.
“Fine. Just don’t do that again. Ever.”
“If you don’t like it, say so properly. You’re surprisingly timid.”
“I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d do it even more if I did.”
“Is that how you see me?”
Luke’s voice was still brusque, but at least he was speaking.
Herace realized that whenever Luke went quiet, it was because he was entertaining pointless thoughts.
That was valuable information.
He would have to be more careful in the future.
“So, did you expect me to like that temper of yours?”
“Hey!”
Luke raised his voice, relieved. Herace’s gaze had returned to its usual sharpness.
Maybe apologizing occasionally wasn’t so bad.
After all, he wasn’t planning on parting ways with this irritating monster anytime soon—at least not until his magic insensitivity was cured.
Or perhaps until the day this arrogant monster truly acknowledged him.
Or, even more distant, until the day he made Herace revere him more than that great “person.”
]Luke, who had reconciled with Herace, made a firm resolution.
“Alright! Until that essence or whatever it is shows up, I’ll hunt like a madman!”
“Sure, give it your best shot.”
Before Herace could even finish his sentence, Luke had already dashed out of the cave.
In the original story, Luke would’ve cautiously scouted the area first, wary of the monsters that might be lurking outside the cave.
The main difference between then and now was obvious—back then, he was alone, but now, he had a companion to rely on.
Such minor details didn’t matter, though.
The important thing was that Luke had rushed out without thinking and immediately started hunting monsters. Herace flew out after him.
“Where are all those damned pests that were swarming around earlier? Hurry up and come out!”
Though Luke had only arrived moments earlier, the ground before him was already littered with the corpses of low-level monsters.
Normally, these creatures would scatter at the mere presence of a strong foe, but Luke had managed to catch and slaughter them all.
It seemed he’d gotten so excited by the discovery of his ability to wield sword energy that he’d recklessly attacked the entire group.
Unfortunately, such weak monsters weren’t the ones that carried the essence he was after.
As more and more small fry kept appearing, Luke’s frustration boiled over.
Unable to control his temper, he swung his sword wildly through the air.
“Why isn’t it here?!”
Watching Luke vent his frustration, Herace laughed quietly to himself from the safety of a tree.
He couldn’t help but feel a bit smug, remembering how much stress the unpredictable protagonist had caused him.
Seeing Luke struggle fruitlessly was oddly satisfying.
“Hey! What are you laughing at? Get down here and help me search!”
Not as unnoticed as he’d thought, Luke pinpointed Herace’s location with uncanny accuracy and shouted up at him.
“Why should I? This is your quest. It’s all on you.”
“Then…!”
“Yes, then?”
Luke, who had been about to retort, found himself at a loss for words, stammering awkwardly.
“…Forget it. Just stay there and keep out of my way while I grow stronger!”
Reluctantly, Luke gave up arguing. It was a typical choice for someone like him—a protagonist more inclined to action than debate.
But sadly, Herace already knew Luke’s efforts would yield no results here, no matter how hard he tried.
Comment