Chapter 2: The First Heroine
"Why did you reject all of them?"
My junior, who had been watching the gameplay from behind, spoke up.
She was the very person who had made the romance simulation game, and the one who had gotten me to play it.
She tilted on her chair, eyeing me like I was some kind of curiosity.
She was wearing a black skirt and, how to put it, was crouching on the chair in a rather precarious position.
It made me a little dejected, wondering if she was that unaware of me.
"You said it's a story about the protagonist saving the world. With the world about to end, does romance really matter? It's a strange game."
"Strange? That's just how it is! It's a perfectly ordinary romance simulation game!"
So it is strange, then....
An average person doesn't think of romance sims as normal in the first place....
This girl gave it the title 《I, a Lowborn, Enrolled in the Academy, and Now the Beautiful Girls Like Me Way Too Much?!》 and expected it to be ordinary?
"I didn't get to see the event CGs, so I'm asking—it's not adult content, is it?"
"Well. If you replay it, you'll find out."
"I have no intention of playing again. Definitely."
"And we're adults—is there a problem with that?"
"Isn't that a lot...? This is what a club activity is...?"
"Don't say 'this is what'!"
"You just said it yourself a moment ago."
Well, the truth was, there was no mature older-sister character among the conquerable heroines, so I hadn't gone after any of them.
A simple matter of taste.
I preferred the academy teacher over the young heroines.
Any woman whose age didn't start with a 3 didn't register as a woman to me—and in special circumstances, 4 was acceptable too.
However, if I'd said that to my junior, my social standing would have been at risk—so I was also the one who blamed it on the game's story.
Setting aside the topic of my slightly unconventional taste, anyway.
Because I couldn't get interested in the heroines, I'd tried having Raword drop out of the academy entirely, but every time I did, Raword died in strange ways.
He got run over by a carriage doing around 10 km/h, or died from a wound that festered after being hit by an apple, and so on.
The game system killed Raword in the most unglamorous ways it could manage.
Raword was required, no matter what, to graduate from the academy.
Probably because events with other characters hadn't been implemented, so the game forcibly kept him at the academy.
If that was how a game worked, it was a very game-like way of doing things.
"Honestly—you're supposed to conquer the beautiful girls, not the final boss. I suggested you play because I wanted to know your taste in women...."
"Hm? What was that?"
"Nothing. Anyway, congratulations. The only ending where the protagonist saves the world—it's the hidden ending."
She pushed up her glasses and said it dryly.
No.
It wasn't like I was aiming for the hidden ending specifically.
"It's a hidden ending that only appears when every heroine's affection is at its lowest. Seeing the hidden ending on your first playthrough—if that's a talent, then it is a talent."
"Either way, it's a happy ending. What's the point of choosing a heroine? You end up so wrapped up in her that the villain gets neglected and the world perishes anyway."
"Even so, you get to die alongside the person you love most. No matter how much of a hero you become—isn't it more romantic to have an ending like that rather than dying alone and lonely? An ending where you spend your last moments with the person you chose, right before the apocalypse!"
She clasped both hands together and said it energetically.
Hmm.
So her taste isn't normal either.
Back then, I held my tongue because I didn't want to add fuel to my already fired-up junior—but now I can say it with certainty.
Clearly.
"It's just a bad ending."
***
002
A slum.
A slave trader's hideout.
A young boy was bound in rope, struggling.
The protagonist—Raword.
His black hair, grown carelessly without ever being tidied, seemed to speak to his rough life.
Tanned skin that looked as if the harsh, dark shadow of the slums had been cast over it.
The golden eyes barely visible through the strands of hair covering his face were like gold ingots found in the mud.
Tok tok—
A sudden knocking sound.
The 2 slave traders who had been watching over Raword flinched and lifted their heads.
The 2 men threw their gazes toward the door as if on cue.
"Who is it. At this hour."
"...It hasn't been traced back to us, has it?"
They whispered as quietly as they could.
Tok. Tok.
The knocking continued.
"Tch."
"Drive them off quickly."
The slave traders had no choice but to approach the door.
Slowly, with daggers hidden behind their backs.
Kiiieek—
1 of the slave traders opened the door a hand's width and greeted the unwelcome visitor.
"Hey, you've got the wrong place. Get lost."
He stated firmly to the hooded man beyond the door.
"I've come to share a good word."
The hood, by contrast, seized the door with a clean-spoken voice.
"Do you believe in the goddess?"
"...Are you a missionary?"
The slave traders inwardly let out a breath of relief and loosened the grip on the daggers in their hands.
It happened from time to time.
Fanatics who showed up unannounced, knocking on doors, demanding belief in their god.
"The Book of Blessings, Chapter 5, Verse—the goddess said...."
"Your mother said that, I'm sure."
The slave trader tried to slam the door shut irritably, but—
Kkwadeueuk—
The fingers gripping the door through the crack held their position firmly.
"You really ought to believe."
The hood held the door with just 1 hand against the slave trader's full-strength pulling.
"What—how is this guy so strong...."
Deolkang!
Finally the door swung wide open, and the hooded figure forced his way into the hideout.
At the same moment, the slave traders sensed it instinctively.
This is no ordinary missionary.
At this point, there's no choice but to stop him.
"I told you, you've got the wrong place...."
They gripped their daggers tight once more and charged the hooded figure.
"I said you've got the wrong place, you bastard!"
The instant they lunged with full force—
For some reason, the hooded figure clapped his hands together with delight.
"Ah, wonderful! So you're eager to meet the goddess right now! In that case...."
Uung—
Both of the hooded figure's hands radiated searing light.
"I'll send you there—in 1 hit, swiftly."
Kwang!
The hooded figure's fist connected with the slave trader's face, and the man's head burst apart pitifully.
In a single moment.
Literally, 1 hit.
"Ugh—aaaaah!"
The other man, seeing that sight, let out a shriek and thrust his dagger forward.
Toward the hooded figure's flank.
A sneak attack aimed at a blind spot.
But—
Hwak!
The hooded figure reached out without even turning around.
Despite the sneak attack, the hooded figure's hand was faster than the slave trader's dagger.
Sweuuk—!
As the hand blade bathed in light passed across the slave trader's neck, his head fell away cleanly—as if cut by a sword.
Kuung.
The men, who had lost their heads in an instant, collapsed.
The only thing drifting through the hideout was the sound of blood trickling.
Jeobeouk. Jeobeouk.
And so the hooded figure—
Daywin—
stepped across the blood-stained floor and approached Raword.
"Do you believe in the goddess?"
Nod nod nod nod.
Raword, his face drained completely white, shook his head frantically.
Good.
He had just killed the slave traders who had blasphemed the goddess moments before—so Raword might have taken it as meaning he'd be killed too if he didn't believe. But what mattered was the result.
Daywin had scoured slums across the entire country and had barely managed to find Raword.
He had at last arrived before the protagonist and inserted himself into the game's scenario.
Differently from before.
Differently from the harem route.
Now I just need to plant the seed of faith.
The protagonist will become a holy knight.
"...Thank you for saving me."
Raword, still bound in rope, bowed his head with difficulty.
"Your gratitude doesn't belong here."
Daywin looked down at him and spoke as gravely as he could manage.
"If you wish to give thanks, pray to the goddess. It was the goddess who led me to this place."
He lied with a solemn face.
"The goddess sent me a revelation—that there was a boy here in need of help."
The truth was, it was no revelation at all. He'd been able to find the place only because it was a location from the game's opening.
According to Act 1's scenario, Raword was supposed to get himself out by his own strength, after which a passing academy teacher would discover his talent and bring him to the academy.
But Daywin had cut off that flow and forced his way in.
Lies were fine.
A manipulated outcome was fine.
Now was the time to give Raword an experience that transcended common sense and logic.
To breathe faith down to his very bones.
"Does the goddess... know such things?"
"What insolence. The goddess knows all things."
Daywin felt as if thorns were growing on his tongue saying things he'd never said in his life—but he endured it.
Soon, it was time to land the final blow.
"Now then, Raword."
Daywin said the boy's name.
Saying his name before even exchanging introductions, Raword flinched his shoulders in reaction, exactly as expected.
Now you'll ask how I know your name.
"How do you know my name...."
As expected.
Daywin subtly curled the corner of his mouth, hidden in the shadow of his hood.
"I believe I mentioned it. The goddess knows all things."
At that, Raword looked up at Daywin with an awestruck expression.
He was falling into the clutches of this other world's cult.
"The goddess has commanded me to save you."
Just from his expression, he had already been won over.
"How might I... repay this grace."
"Pray. Repent and worship."
And then—
"Become a holy knight."
The feeling of lightning flashing through his mind.
Raword's eyes went wide.
"Become the sword of God."
With every word Daywin let fall, Raword's gaze shook violently.
It felt like a fate he absolutely couldn't refuse was carving its way into his life.
On top of that, in Raword's eyes, Daywin looked like a divine apostle.
He had lived a life with no connection to faith—but he had vaguely heard the myths surrounding the goddess.
In particular, the story about the angel.
The story of the faceless angel who descends into the human world to save the poor and suffering.
He had always thought it a ridiculous fantasy—but now.
Raword had witnessed it.
He could bear witness.
Because of his deeply pulled-down hood, darkness fell over Daywin's face.
On top of that—the halo, the symbol of a holy knight who had unleashed divine energy, floating somewhere behind his head.
The circular ring-shaped light source illuminated Daywin from behind.
With his face obscured by the hood and the backlight, Daywin was more than enough to pass for the faceless angel of mythology.
That story... was true.
Sweuuk—
Around the time Raword's misunderstanding began to take hold, Daywin scrawled something on a scrap of paper pulled from inside his robe.
"Take this."
He handed over a holy scripture along with the scrap of paper.
"Engrave the scripture in your heart, then send a letter to this address. I will show you the path of the holy knight."
Daywin barely managed to hold back the laughter threatening to burst out and drew the sign of the cross on Raword's forehead.
***
"Young master, a letter has arrived. Again, it's from Raword."
Just as the head steward said, a single letter was placed on the desk in the study.
Splitting the envelope and taking out the letter, Raword's carefully pressed handwriting came into view.
『To my esteemed mentor.
I trust you have been well.
Raword sends his greetings.
With the arrival of spring, when all things come back to life, I sincerely pray that health and happiness may always be with your household.』
For an uneducated kid from the slums, it was an opening greeting that could rival a school principal's address.
Had he practiced to write a letter like this?
Since that day, I had exchanged letters with Raword, guiding him through the process and fundamentals of becoming a holy knight.
I had only taught him a single lowest-tier, F-rank spell, and he had begun using the burdensome title of "mentor."
『Thanks to your wholehearted support, I placed first in the academy entrance exam.』
"First place."
No matter how things unfold, a protagonist is a protagonist.
If I hadn't sent him to the academy at all, he wouldn't have formed any connection with the heroines either—but if that happened, this world would kill Raword one way or another.
It would kill him in the most absurd way.
There had been no choice but to push him into the academy.
『Upon graduating from the academy with outstanding marks, one is given the benefit of being able to enlist in the Royal Knights.
Even so, I will volunteer for the Holy Knights Order, as you have instructed.
I wish to become an apostle of the goddess like you, mentor, and help those in need.
The grace of having been saved by you that day—I will not forget it until the day I die.
I will study harder and strive further.
Raword.』
"Kk—kkk."
I covered my mouth to suppress the vulgar laugh threatening to escape.
"At last. At last, I've succeeded."
I had scoured the entire country to find Raword, then consistently supported him and instilled faith in him.
As a result.
The protagonist was now on the holy knight route.
For a holy knight, not only marriage but even the passion that stirs within the heart is regarded as a horrifying sin.
A holy knight who fails to preserve their purity is themselves a great transgression.
One could only be recognized by going against human instinct.
The more I dwelled on the fact that I had walked that kind of path, the more I felt self-pity.
You worked hard putting up with it all this time, didn't you, me.
That trash who married 5 beautiful girls is now—in my place—about to become a holy knight.
About to take on the task of saving the world.
A solitary, noble, lonely path.
With this, Raword's romance routes are as good as completely sealed off.
Just as planned.
***
"Did you hear? The goddess summoned Raword behind the Old Schoolhouse?"
"The Old Schoolhouse? That's... a famous confession spot."
The goddess.
It was the nickname given to Esther, a 1st-year in the academy's Magic Division.
A nickname that suited her perfectly—a girl whose beauty was so overwhelming that calling her merely "beautiful" fell short.
"Isn't something wrong here? It's not that Raword called Esther out there—it's the other way around?"
"Don't you know anything? You're close to Raword, aren't you? Didn't you spar with him the other time?"
"What are you on about. I don't know that guy. That lowest form of life in all of humanity...."
Rumors spread fast, and Raword instantly lost even the few friends he had.
"It might not be a confession. It doesn't make sense that the goddess would have someone she likes."
Unable to bear it any longer, the male students rushed toward the Old Schoolhouse.
Upon arriving, Esther was indeed standing in a hidden spot behind the Old Schoolhouse.
Esther.
Silver hair that drew every eye.
Her subtly amber-tinged eyes resembled the light of dawn.
Even a slight smile from her red lips, which stood out all the more against her luminously pale skin, made it feel as if the very air around her had changed.
When the bewitching gaze beneath her long lashes grazed you, every male student was convinced she was looking at him.
Even if it was a delusion, it felt good.
Whether because of that or not, boys of all kinds had called Esther out to the Old Schoolhouse from the moment she enrolled—but every last one had their hearts half-shattered by her iron-wall defenses.
But now.
"Yes, I'm telling you that I have an interest in you."
She announced to Raword with a composed expression.
She, who had only ever received confessions, was making one herself, in reverse.
"You placed first in the entrance exam, didn't you? My interest was sparked from then. I felt there was much to learn from you. And on top of that, you are the only man who doesn't call me 'goddess.' So—what's your answer? How long do you intend to keep me standing here like this?"
Unlike Esther, who was trying admirably to hide it but whose embarrassment was showing on her face, Raword's expression was blank.
It was strange.
Under normal circumstances, he ought to show a surprised or joyful reaction—but Raword's expression only remained dryly stiff.
And perhaps.
He even looked displeased.
Taken aback by the unexpected reaction, Esther was flustered—but made a point of not showing it.
"Well, I suppose so. A woman of my caliber has told you she finds you attractive, after all. I understand the shock."
Esther swept her hair back and wore a self-assured expression.
At that moment, Raword stepped boldly toward her.
"Wh—what is it?"
Suddenly finding the distance between them closing, she flushed and took 1 step back.
With other students watching... if we're going to date, we'd first have to start by h-holding hands....
She had naturally expected the confession to succeed—but things progressing this quickly was outside the range of her expectations.
Just as she was beginning to feel a flutter at Raword's unexpectedly forward attitude—
"You are indeed known as the goddess."
Raword opened his mouth.
"Yes. It wasn't something I wanted, but I can't deny that I receive a great deal of attention. So you should feel honored...."
"How dare you."
In an instant, Raword's eyes turned sharp.
"Knowing your place."
"...Yes?"
"A lowly piece of flesh daring to be called by her holy name—that is blasphemy. I find you repulsive."
Raword's eyes looked down at her.
Glaring with contempt.
"It would be best if you stay out of my sight from now on. My patience ends here."
Raword turned away with cold eyes.
Had things gone according to the game's scenario, 2 choices would have appeared during the Old Schoolhouse event.
Accept Esther's confession.
Reject Esther's confession.
Choosing the first would begin Esther's main route, and choosing the second would branch into the harem route and Esther's defeat route.
However, Raword chose a 3rd option.
To crush Esther's heart underfoot.
He had stepped outside the choices.
Raword, who had met Daywin and come to hold a deep faith.
To him, Esther simply appeared blasphemous.
A girl harboring desire in a place of learning—she was vulgar.
Meanwhile, Esther covered her lips with trembling hands.
She stood blankly for about 3 seconds, and then—her large eyes gradually filled with moisture.
The muscles of her face hadn't yet found their footing in reality, but annoyingly, her tear ducts reacted on their own.
"Eh...?"
The 1st heroine, Esther.
For the first time in her life, she tasted the humiliation of being rejected by a man.