Arthur Fontaine, the so-called hero and newly minted nobleman—now Count Fontaine—had been residing in the imperial palace for a week.
Ever since his return to the Empire, after basking in the glory of a grand parade and enjoying the lavish festival held in his honor, he had stayed on.
The Emperor had granted him the title of Count, gifted him a respectable house in the capital, and provided him with all the necessary attendants and servants befitting a newly elevated noble.
The Emperor even offered him land in the southern region, but Arthur, who had no intention of leaving the capital, gently declined, so the offer was not pressed.
Considering his achievements, the treatment—though excessive under normal circumstances—didn't draw much criticism. Only among the old noble factions did some grumble that the title of Count was too much. But even those voices quickly faded in the face of his reputation as the hero who had saved the continent.
Still, Arthur didn’t stay in the estate the Emperor had granted him. Instead, he continued to reside in the imperial palace as an honored guest.
Ordinarily, this would have been impossible for a regular noble, but as the man who had supposedly saved the entire continent, no one dared raise issue with his preferential treatment.
Lying back comfortably on a cushioned lounge, Arthur leisurely popped a cherry into his mouth from the bowl beside him.
As he tasted the fruit, his expression twisted slightly.
“Hmm, a bit astringent.”
The chief attendant standing nearby quickly stepped forward and spoke.
“I’ll bring you a fresh batch immediately.”
“Haha, it’s fine.”
He said it was fine, but his hand, casually extending the dish forward, clearly meant bring another. Reading the preferences of one’s master was the hallmark of a good attendant—and over the past week, the chief attendant had thoroughly grasped Arthur Fontaine’s temperament.
He promptly took the dish and exited the room.
At that exact moment, a beautiful woman with a bob of black hair entered. The familiar sight of her made the chief attendant bow politely and exit, closing the door behind him. It felt almost like a baton handoff as the woman stepped inside and approached Arthur.
Boram Evans.
The youngest daughter of the Marquess Evans household and one of the original members of the hero’s party—a great mage and a celebrated hero in her own right.
The Emperor had also offered her a noble title, but like the divine warrior Augustine, she refused. After all, her family already held multiple titles, and as the youngest daughter, she had no reason to covet one.
Seeing Boram, Arthur lazily waved his hand in greeting.
“You’re here?”
Boram gave a brief nod and silently took a seat across from him. Soon after, the chief attendant returned with a new plate of cherries. Boram’s eyes flicked to the platter.
Golden dish, piled high with cold cherries. Since Arthur had barely touched the previous plate and sent it away, the return with a fresh one could only be blamed on his fickle taste.
Boram sighed quietly to herself.
Despite staying in the imperial palace for nearly a week, no one criticized him. Despite doing absolutely nothing, everyone admired and respected him.
Brown hair, brown eyes—his appearance was ordinary. He lacked impressive strength or presence. In every aspect, he was unremarkable. Yet he was revered as the hero who saved the world.
Or rather, that’s what everyone believed.
Even though someone close to her was being treated as precious, Boram felt a strange unease in her gut. She turned to the attendants and said,
“Leave us for a moment.”
Without hesitation, they exited. While it was true that they were the hero’s attendants and trained to be responsive, they also obeyed because the one giving the order was Boram—archmage, war hero, and daughter of the esteemed Marquess Evans.
Once the room fell quiet, Boram casually cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping. Meanwhile, Arthur leisurely popped another cherry into his mouth from the fresh platter.
“So? Did you find Ketron?”
Arthur jumped right into the main subject. Boram shook her head.
“I’m still searching.”
“Is that the best you can do? I thought it’d be quick.”
“Then why don’t you go find him yourself?”
Her reply was sharp. Arthur, gifted with a preternatural sense for such tones, chuckled knowingly.
“What’s with the hostility?”
“…….”
Boram didn’t answer. But Arthur let out a long sigh and stretched with exaggerated ease.
“Is it because I got engaged to Layla?”
At those words, Boram’s face hardened for an instant. Arthur, unfazed, simply shrugged with a composed expression.
“Don’t be so upset. You know how it is—I need legitimacy, a justification. Someone to cover for my lack of noble blood.”
He wasn’t wrong. Even now, there were plenty who resented Arthur for rising from commoner to Count.
Even though he was hailed as a hero who saved the continent, elevating a commoner to nobility remained a contentious issue.
But Arthur didn’t particularly care. Let them grumble. Public opinion was on his side—and more importantly, so was the Emperor.
The Emperor had shown him more than enough favor, telling him to ask for anything he wished. With such backing, why shouldn’t he enjoy the luxuries of his position?
The Emperor’s unconditional support, the hero’s legendary deeds—add just the right dose of legitimacy, and he’d be a perfect noble.
Say, the beloved fiancé of the Saintess.
“And besides,” Arthur added, “she was the one who proposed.”
To be precise, she had confessed and asked for a proposal.
Not from Arthur, of course—but from the hero back then.
From Ketron.
But did that matter now? The hero was no longer Ketron. It was Arthur.
It wasn’t hard for Arthur to slide into the space Ketron left behind. As the world’s memories of Ketron faded, the empty space naturally filled with Arthur’s name and face.
More accurately, the hero’s identity had been swapped.
There were still occasional moments of confusion, but they weren’t significant. After all, forgetfulness was a powerful weapon.
Arthur looked at the silent Boram and said,
“You need to find him. Try harder. Please.”
Boram, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke.
“He could already be dead. He was badly wounded.”
He could already be dead.
Ketron, that is.
It was certainly possible. At the time, his injuries had been severe—his side torn open, his stamina depleted. It would be more logical to assume he hadn’t survived.
But Arthur shook his head.
“Nah. That kid wouldn’t die from injuries like that. You know what kind of monster Ketron is.”
“That’s… true.”
Boram admitted it readily.
For some reason, Arthur felt certain Ketron hadn’t died. Even with his side ripped open, organs spilling out, Ketron would grit his teeth and crawl to victory. He wasn’t the type to fall from mere wounds.
So if Ketron had survived and realized their betrayal, there were only two possibilities:
He would come back burning with rage—or he would crumble, broken and devastated. Ketron was strong, but he was also young, unstable, and didn’t know how to lean on others.
The four of them had traveled together since before Ketron reached adulthood, risking their lives and growing close. Arthur knew him well. He knew Ketron had cared for his companions in his own way.
If he lost them all at once—no, if he lost everything he had built until now—he might just fall apart.
Physical strength had nothing to do with it. His mind was still that of a boy.
“Hah, well, maybe that’s what happened.”
But Arthur didn’t care either way—whether Ketron died or collapsed.
“I prefer certainty. It makes me anxious otherwise. Just thinking that brat might still be alive somewhere gives me chills.”
Arthur had been the second to join Ketron’s party at the start of their journey. He believed he understood Ketron better than anyone.
That brat was a monster. That’s why he could accomplish the impossible—killing the Demon King as a mere human.
Really, the thought of it was horrifying.
“……”
Boram silently closed her eyes. Arthur watched her lashes lower over her pupils and smiled brightly.
“So, in the end…”
He picked up a cherry and popped it into his mouth. It burst sweet and cool across his tongue—none of the bitterness from earlier.
Just like his current situation.
“That kid needs to disappear.”
For everyone’s sake.
His voice didn’t carry even the slightest hint of doubt.