The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?

Maybe Luther should have followed his senses this time.

His gut told him this trip was going to be a headache, and for once, his gut was right.

He sat lazily on the carriage floor, the door wide open, one leg sticking out like he owned the entire roadside. In his hand was a small loaf of bread he'd snatched earlier from the knights' rations. Every now and then, he broke off a piece, popped it into his mouth, and chewed slowly—watching the chaos unfold like it was a free play staged for his amusement.

The knights stood stiffly on both sides of the carriage, their armor gleaming in the morning light, expressions mixed between concern and fear. Even the young apprentice, Jio, stood among them, his hands fidgeting nervously with the hilt of his sword. Not one of them dared to move.

Luther wanted to laugh. Oh, how badly he wanted to laugh. But he held himself back, taking another bite instead.

Then came the voice.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The tone was sharp enough to cut through steel.

Liliana's usually calm, expressionless face was twisted into a scowl of pure disdain.

And the reason?

Simple.

Because standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the midnight-blue carriage that had followed them through the travel port, was none other than Duke Aithur himself—with that infuriating grin plastered across his perfect face.

The scene itself was rather beautiful.

They were parked near the Sea of Gan, a massive body of water that stretched endlessly, its horizon melting into the sky.

The salty wind carried the scent of fish and seaweed, ruffling Liliana's long red hair and tugging at Aithur's dark blue coat. But the beauty of the place did little to ease the thick tension hovering between them.

Luther chewed quietly, eyes darting between them. Ah, yes, he thought, the perfect blend of irritation and pride. I could sell tickets to this show.

Arthur, of course, was the first to break the silence.

"Well," he drawled, his tone playful, "is it a crime now for someone to take a little detour? I heard the Sea of Gan has a wonderful view this time of year."

Liliana's jaw tightened. "It's not under the North's jurisdiction," she snapped. "So unless you've suddenly taken up fishing, you have no reason to be here."

"And if I remember correctly, weren't you supposed to be fulfilling a request from the king?"

Aithur's grin widened. "And if I was? Maybe I'm fulfilling it right now."

Liliana's glare could have frozen the ocean itself.

Ah, nobles. The only species who could turn a conversation into a duel.

Meanwhile, Luther was busy trying not to choke on his bread as the demonic sword's voice echoed inside his mind, sounding far too entertained for its own good.

"They look like a couple in denial. One drunk on pride, the other on stubbornness. Which one's the stalker, again?"

Luther almost choked laughing. He coughed, wiping his mouth, and muttered under his breath, "More like a comedy than a romance, you idiot sword."

The sword made a humming noise of agreement.

"Comedy? No, no—this is a tragedy in the making. I can already smell the tension."

Luther snorted, earning both their attention for a brief moment.

He just raised his loaf slightly, as if toasting them. "Don't mind me. Carry on. This is the best entertainment I've had in weeks."

Arthur chuckled and gave a dramatic bow, one hand over his chest.

"My, the great Saint himself honors me with his presence. I didn't recognize you without the blinding glow of righteousness."

That nearly made Luther lose his appetite.

He squinted. "Oh, please. Spare me the fake reverence. You don't need to bow, Duke Clean-Freak. The ground's already spotless; no need to polish it further."

A few of the knights coughed to hide their laughter.

Liliana's expression didn't change, but the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly.

Arthur raised a brow, eyes glinting mischievously. "Still the same sharp tongue. I was beginning to think divinity had mellowed you out."

"Divinity doesn't fix stupidity," Luther replied dryly. "Though I guess that explains why you're still suffering from a severe case of it."

That did it. One of the younger knights snorted audibly before being elbowed by his superior.

Aithur grinned wider, unbothered. "Oh, that's the little brat I remember. I thought the gods had wrung the humor out of you, but no—still as infuriating as ever."

"And you," Luther said, brushing crumbs off his cloak, "still as stalkerish as ever. Really, Aithur, what's next? Hiding under her carriage for fun? I'm sure the King would love to hear about how his dignified Grand Duke spends his free time. Maybe he'll reward you with a new title—how about 'The Great Creeper of the North'?"

That earned an audible chuckle from Liliana, though she quickly hid it behind a cough.

Aithur's smirk twitched. "Careful, Saint. Mock me again, and I might tell the king his holy prodigy's been stealing bread from the guard's rations."

"Do it," Luther said flatly. "I'll tell him you've been following a woman who clearly wants to hit you."

Liliana's sword hand twitched. "Clearly," she muttered.

By now, the knights were thoroughly confused. The atmosphere was so heavy with tension yet filled with teasing that none of them dared to interrupt. Jio, the youngest of them all, whispered to the knight beside him, "Are they friends… or enemies?"

The knight whispered back, "Neither. Just… don't ask questions."

Liliana finally turned to Luther. "Go inside the carriage," she said. "We have an unwanted guest."

Luther raised a brow, unconvinced. "Are you sure? Because if the guest starts whining, I'm not cleaning up the mess."

"Inside," she repeated, her tone brooking no argument.

"Fine, fine," he sighed, standing up and dusting himself off. "But if you two start another lovers' quarrel, I'm charging admission next time."

He ducked into the carriage, the demonic sword snickering in his mind.

"Lovers' quarrel, huh? You're not wrong."

"Shut it," Luther muttered under his breath.

Just as he was about to sit, something flew through the carriage window.

Luther caught it instinctively—Aithur had tossed him a paper-wrapped snack.

"Chew on that," Aithur called with a grin. "This might take a while."

Luther looked at the snack, then at the Duke through the window. "Are you bribing me to stay quiet?"

"Would it work?"

"Depends. Is it sweet?"

"...Yes."

"Fine. You're forgiven."

Liliana closed the door with a sigh and turned toward the ocean.

The moment her eyes locked on the horizon, her demeanor changed. Calm. Cold. Deadly focused.

She drew her sword—its silver edge gleaming in the sunlight—and pointed it directly toward the sea.

"Show yourself," she commanded.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

The only sound was the rhythmic crash of waves and the cries of distant gulls.

Then the ocean began to ripple.

The surface quivered unnaturally, as if something massive stirred beneath. Waves began to form, slow and steady, before slapping against the shore with violent force.

The knights instinctively drew their weapons, forming a line behind Liliana.

Arthur's playful demeanor vanished. He slipped on his sapphire-lined gloves, the air around him humming faintly with energy.

He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed at the growing disturbance.

The sea churned. The waves grew higher and restless, and something—something dark—moved beneath them. A massive silhouette appeared, faint and formless, shifting under the water's surface.

Everyone held their breath.

Then, silence.

The sea went eerily still, as if time itself had paused.

Even the gulls stopped crying.

Luther peeked through the carriage window.