Saint Layla.
She was the most revered cleric in this world, enjoying absolute support and adoration from the people.
Ketron had wanted to avoid confronting anyone from the past who might remember him, especially those who no longer remembered him. Unfortunately, the location where he and Eddie stood wasn’t far from the ward she was visiting.
And since both of them were taller than average in this world, they had a clear view of her through the crowd that had gathered to see her.
Not far off, a woman in pure white priestly robes came into view.
Saint Layla. She was an elegant beauty with a calm, refined aura.
Her striking appearance stood out even from a distance—and whether it was because of her saintly status or some intangible radiance, she gave off an almost sacred, luminous beauty. It was as if she was backlit by divine light.
She had once been the heroine who, naturally, should have ended up with Ketron.
Well, not that the story had ever pushed a real romance arc.
“When you return, there’s a gift I want from you.”
Layla had said that to Ketron before he left. Up until then, she’d shown him subtle affection, earning her the reputation of a potential heroine—but since Ketron never seemed to view her romantically, it remained the wishful thinking of fans.
Even so, that one short line had cemented her as a strong candidate for the main heroine of The Hero Doesn’t Hide His Power Too Well.
It was basically a proposal. The only one who didn’t understand it was Ketron. Their relationship had never developed romantically, and Ketron had always treated women with indifference.
Still, Layla had several episodes that made readers believe she’d be the one by the end, and fans speculated endlessly.
There was even a division among readers: Layla-faction and Boram-faction. Her popularity rose so much that she rivaled Boram, who had been the sole and strongest heroine candidate until then.
Of course, even Boram hadn’t had any clear romantic developments with Ketron. She was simply described as beautiful and, being part of the main party, naturally became the presumed match.
But no one expected the ending to turn out the way it did.
Eddie let out a sigh without realizing it.
Boram, the sharp-featured, short-haired black-haired magician, and Layla, the radiant blonde who looked like she was made of molten gold—together they had been the two pillars of the “heroine war” in the story.
But to put it plainly, in the end, the conclusion was a mess: Ketron ended up with neither of them. In fact, Boram betrayed Ketron and followed Arthur, twisting the entire romance plot.
Thankfully—or maybe unfortunately—Ketron had never been shown to have romantic feelings for either of them.
But one thing was certain: Layla was yet another connection Ketron had lost. One more part of a past that had been wiped clean.
Eddie glanced at Ketron. He was still carrying bags full of vegetables and meat Eddie had bought, and though Layla was clearly visible in the distance, his face hadn’t changed at all.
But… could he really be unaffected?
She, too, was a piece of the past he had lost.
Without realizing it, Eddie tugged gently at Ketron’s sleeve. Ketron, who had been looking toward Layla, turned his gaze to Eddie.
His cool, indifferent eyes met Eddie’s, who smiled as if he didn’t know anything.
“Ket, looks like we’ve bought everything we need. Should we head back?”
Eddie had picked up everything on his list. Some prepared side dishes, vegetables for salad, and even a few unfamiliar fruits. It was enough to try out some new side menu items.
Ketron looked down at Eddie for a moment, then slowly nodded. He turned away without hesitation.
Eddie let out a small sigh of relief and said cheerfully,
“Next time, let’s bring a cart.”
Ketron nodded again—he had no reason to object.
Unaware that his nod had just made a silent promise of a “next time” with Eddie.
* * *
“…?”
Layla had only noticed the two men by coincidence as she made her rounds, blessing the sick.
One of them was tall, with a powerful frame and presence. The other stood out with his shimmering silver-blonde hair.
She couldn’t see their faces, only their backs—but something about them caught her attention, and Layla stopped walking without realizing it.
The one who stood out more to her was the tall man with black hair.
His back looked strangely familiar. A faint ache stirred in her chest, like a distant, wistful memory.
…but I don’t know anyone with a build like that. So why?
As her mind began to spiral with unexplainable curiosity, countless hooks seemed to bloom in her thoughts. That’s when someone stepped up beside her.
“Saint Layla.”
She turned instinctively toward the voice, but as soon as she saw who it was, the faint smile on her face disappeared.
A sharply dressed young man stood there. He looked quite young, but despite appearances, he was a butler from a count’s household.
For a noble house to have a butler that young typically meant one of two things:
Either the previous butler, heir to a long line of stewards, had died early, leaving the position to a son or apprentice…
Or the noble house was so new that even its staff history was brief.
In this case, it was the latter.
This was the butler of the newly titled Count Fontaine—Arthur.
Arthur Fontaine.
Her fiancé.
But the moment Layla saw the young butler’s face, her expression turned cold.
“You came all the way here? I told you I’d visit in person, didn’t I?”
“It’s been nearly a week since you said that, milady. The Count is feeling quite disheartened.”
His cheerful, smiling face was aggravating. And with so many eyes watching, it was clear he’d chosen this timing and place intentionally.
So she wouldn’t be able to refuse.
The butler gave her a look of exaggerated regret and spoke again, furrowing his brow.
“You didn’t attend the parade. Nor the countship investiture ceremony. It’s been a long time since the Count has seen your face. Can you blame him for feeling hurt?”
Fiancé.
Saint Layla and the Hero Arthur—now Count Arthur Fontaine—were engaged.
Before leaving to defeat the Demon King, she had gently hinted that she hoped he would propose upon his return. It had been subtle, but obvious enough.
And Arthur had kept his promise.
He defeated the Demon King. He returned. And he proposed.
But strangely, Layla hadn’t felt happy at all.
It had been the proposal she’d longed for, the return she’d prayed for… Yet the moment she saw his face, a sharp thought pierced through her:
This isn’t right.
That feeling hadn’t changed.
Her love for him hadn’t died. It still existed within her.
But it was like that love had lost its way—wandering aimlessly, never fully reaching Arthur.
She didn’t even understand why. She had never prayed to God about her personal matters… but in this, she had broken that vow and asked for divine guidance.
And what had the Lord, who always answered her prayers, said?
“Child, your heart still longs for the hero.”
That answer removed her doubt—but not the unease. So she kept putting off the visit she had promised Arthur.
And now he had sent his butler to pressure her in public.
She let out a long sigh.
“Very well. I’ll visit after I finish my relief work.”
“I’ll prepare a carriage and have it waiting.”
He was even leaving a carriage behind, to keep her from slipping away. She had postponed the meeting several times, but this felt like outright coercion.
Biting her lips over and over to stifle her growing frustration, Layla forced a smile as she thought of the patients waiting for her, and the many citizens watching.
“…Alright.”
“If you don’t come this time—”
“That’s enough.”
The pushy remark made her lose her patience, and her expression turned icy. The butler backed off with a gentle smile, as if that had been his intention all along.
Layla turned away, her face shadowed with weariness.
She already missed the peace and warmth of her temple.