"Someone's collapsed!"
"Hero!? Is it the Hero!?"
"Oh thank the heavens—you're alive! Quick, to the palace! Summon every high priest we've got!"
And so, in the nick of time—literally during his own funeral procession—Lich-piloted Hero managed to stumble back into the Human capital.
Still, he couldn't help thinking: 'Wow. The way people treat me as Hero versus me as Lich is night and day.'
They held a national funeral even though they never found his body? So why'd they dump him in a cave like trash?
* * *
The next time Lich blinked awake, Hero's body was lying in a luxurious medical chamber. Guess leaving autopilot on for a bit had gotten him chauffeured here.
The room's white walls vaguely reminded him of his sterile Demon King–side lab—but where his lab was just "functional and clean," this place had style. Probably the furniture layout? Or just royal decorator magic. Either way, "fashionable" wasn't in Lich's vocabulary.
"Hero! You woke up! Humans were so worried about you!"
The subject of that "Humans" was comically oversized—but when HeroLich turned his head, it all made sense.
Standing beside the bed was a petite girl, maybe early teens, with golden hair and big sapphire eyes. Pretty face, delicate build, wrists so thin they looked breakable. But what really stood out were the two heavy accessories she carried with her:
A gem-studded scepter. And a crown that seemed way too big for her head.
This was Queen Lanza, sovereign of all Humanity. Like the Demon King across the border, her title said it all. She was the absolute monarch of the continent's one and only Human kingdom. Which explained why she kept speaking as "Humans." Royal prerogative, apparently.
Curiously, HeroLich noticed that memories and data about people bubbled up more easily while inside Hero's body. So the vessel really does shape thought, he mused. Definitely worth jotting down later for peer review.
* * *
"Ever since word came that you fell to a dragon on the northeastern front, Humans have been worried sick!"
She leaned closer. Before Lich even realized what was happening, Hero's hand had moved on its own, gently patting her head.
"Sorry to worry you. I'm fine."
"Are you really? The priests all said you looked... well, dead. They don't understand how you're still breathing."
"I'm the Hero."
"Yes! Of course! You're the Hero!"
So yeah. In Human society, "Hero" filled the same niche as "Lich" did for the demons: untouchable, inexplicable, yet accepted anyway.
"But... my close brush with death may have scrambled my memory. My personality might seem a little different too. Head trauma, you know. Please forgive me."
"I... I knew it! You're speaking way differently. But I don't care—I'm just glad you're alive."
"Either way, I have somewhere I need to go."
"What!? You can't just run off—you're literally still categorized as 'deceased' by the clergy!"
"Yet I live. And if I live, I must fulfill my mission."
"What mission? Something only the Hero can do?"
"...I need to visit a fallen comrade's house. There are documents I must retrieve."
"Which comrade? I'll send guards."
"The Necromancer."
"...But didn't you say he was 'missing, presumed alive somewhere far away'?"
"..."
Lich winced internally. The funeral excuse had been convenient, but annoyingly accurate: that Necromancer was alive—well, sort of. Now he was Lich.
"In any case, I must go."
"You shouldn't push yourself! Anyone can fetch some old papers."
"No. There are items too sensitive to let others touch. Only I can handle them."
"...And you're sure you can?"
"I'm the Hero. I'm used to raiding people's dressers for loot."
"The Hero of Humanity does NOT do that!"
"...Yeah, he did."
Well, okay. Maybe not in the capital. But in frontier villages? Totally.
"Anyway. I need those records immediately."
"Why are you so desperate for a Necromancer's notes!?"
"Because the enemy's fielding a terrifyingly strong Necromancer. I need countermeasures."
Not a lie—he'd prepped this excuse precisely for this moment. The plan had been to keep "Lich" as a ghost story, allowing him to tinker in peace. But now that he'd successfully slipped into Human society as Hero, the leverage was too good to ignore.
Hero's words carried obscene weight. He still didn't understand why people accepted everything this guy said—probably just because he was hot. But maybe, just maybe, that influence could keep Humanity from rallying around "Kill Lich!" if the subject came up.
He'd improvise the politics as he went.
* * *
"So I must hurry. The front lines need me."
"Can't you at least wait until treatment's done?"
"I feel great already."
"...Fine. But I'm coming with you."
"Wait, why?"
"Because I'm worried about you, obviously!"
"You're the Queen. What about governing?"
"...Humans is mostly ceremonial anyway. If Hero says he's taking me, no one will object. Let's tour the towns together!"
"Pass. You'll just slow me down."
"Ugh... Hero, you're so cold. The Hero of Humanity is supposed to be kind..."
Her eyes brimmed with tears. HeroLich felt nothing—but Hero's body reacted. Before he could stop it, his hand brushed her cheek, and his lips curved in a soft smile.
"Don't cry, my princess."
"..."
"..."
The words made Lich want to die all over again. If I'd ever said that as a human, I'd have been arrested on the spot.
But Hero was hot. And Queen Lanza's cheeks lit up.
"...Okay. You'll really take me?"
"...I guess I have no choice."
She beamed.
"Then it's settled! Humans will prepare! We'll travel the towns together!"
"...Tch."
"D-did you just glare? Did you click your tongue at me?"
"Must've imagined it. Heroes don't make ugly faces. I'm the Hero, after all."
"Yes! You're the Hero of Humanity!"
And so, their destination—the Necromancer's old home—was set. With a queen-sized piece of baggage attached.
Annoying, sure. But watching Lanza skip happily out of the room, Hero-Lich caught himself thinking: Maybe this isn't so bad.
Body over mind, indeed.