Maddy began to follow the rowdy procession at a distance. Her movements were fluid and silent, a sharp contrast to the stomping feet of the singing adventurers ahead. She kept to the darker side of the street, her cloak fluttering like a bat’s wing as she trailed them toward the entertainment district.

When they reached the tavern, Johnn was practically thrown through the doorway, met instantly by a wall of sound. Hundreds of adventurers were already there, clicking their heavy wooden mugs together and shouting praises for the "New Hero."

Maddy didn’t enter through the front. She lingered at the edge of the entrance, her hood pulled low and her back against the rough stone wall. She looked like a ninja blending into the architecture, her eyes cold and calculating as she peered through the windows.

To her, this wasn’t a party. It was a tactical opportunity. She reasoned,

"If the Guild Master is paying for the drinks, then the Guild Master will be here to greet the new star..."

Meeting the highest authority of the local guild was a dangerous gamble for a "monster" like her, but it was also the fastest way to understand the true power structure of this city. She watched Johnn being swamped by admirers, her gaze searching the room for someone who didn’t fit the drunken mold—someone with the eyes of a leader.

"Let’s see what kind of person runs this guild."

She waited for the perfect moment to slip through the chaos. If she was going to survive in this kingdom, she needed to know exactly whose board she was playing on. She stayed in the blind spot of the light spilling from the windows, her gaze fixed on the ruckus inside.

To the common eye, she was just another shadow, but her senses were dialed to the maximum, filtering out the drunken singing to find the one heartbeat that didn’t match the rhythm of the crowd.

While she was focused on the potential arrival of the Guild Master, she didn’t notice two familiar figures passing by on the opposite side of the street.

Hoppy, the little girl she had pulled from the clutches of the slaver, was walking close to her father. The man looked exhausted, his face a mask of lingering anxiety, but Hoppy was staring at the tavern with wide, curious eyes.

The news of a new SSS Rank hero had traveled through the city like wildfire; even the street vendors and night watchmen were whispering about the "Hero" who had appeared at the guild.

A small surge of townspeople began to crowd the street, drawn by the magnetism of a living legend. They pushed toward the tavern doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who would surely be the kingdom’s new shield.

Hoppy’s eyes stayed fixed on the tavern as she walked.

"Is the hero in there, Papa?"

But her father wasn’t looking at the tavern. His gaze lingered down the street, toward their home, heavy with quiet sorrow. He answered softly,

"Yes."

Hoppy’s small hand tightened into a fist.

"Hero..."

The word twisted painfully in her chest, dragging her back to that night—the slimes, the chaos, the screams.

"I wonder... if the hero came earlier... would she have saved... Mother?"

Her father offered no reply. He simply tightened his grip on her hand and guided her away, taking the quieter path toward their home and leaving the noise of the celebration behind.

The crowd surged, pushing past the small girl and her father. Even the night guards left their posts, running toward the tavern with the same desperate excitement as the street vendors. It had been ten years since an SSS Rank hero last appeared, and the city felt as though history was reaching a turning point.

Hoppy watched the chaos, her small hand swallowed by her father’s grip. While the townspeople cheered for their new protector, her father’s face remained a mask of deep trouble.

They finally reached the front of the house. The weathered wooden gate creaked as they pushed through, but the familiar comfort of home was nowhere to be found. The windows were ablaze with light—far brighter than they should have been and the front door stood slightly ajar. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

From inside, the muffled sounds of shifting furniture and low, gruff voices drifted into the night air.

The father stopped dead at the threshold, his breath catching in his chest. He pulled Hoppy behind him, using his body to shield her from the light spilling out of the doorway.

Hoppy peeked around her father’s waist, her breath hitching in her throat. Her eyes filled with silent shock at the sight in the entryway. Lined up neatly were several pairs of shoes... far too many to belong to her father alone.

She stared at the rows of shoes, her heart hammering. She wanted to ask who they belonged to, but the words died in her throat. She barely knew the man holding her hand; he was a stranger who visited once a month, a shadow that appeared and vanished before she could truly call him "Father."

His behavior tonight felt alien, his fear radiating through the cold sweat on his palm. He looked down at her, his eyes wide and frantic.

"Stay quiet... Do not say a single word, no matter what."

With a hand that shook violently, he reached out and shoved the door wide. The hinges groaned, spilling a flood of warm light onto the porch. Hoppy braced herself for a monster or a thief, but the sound that met them was far more jarring.

"Papa! You’re finally back!"

Two high pitched voices chirped in unison.

Two young children, a boy and a girl near Hoppy’s age, came sprinting toward the doorway with wide smiles. They did not look like intruders; they looked as if they belonged there. Hoppy froze as they threw their arms around her father’s legs, their joy cutting through the tension.

Hoppy’s eyes, weary from a night of weeping over the massacre of her town, were unable to shed another tear in her surprise. She could only mutter:

"P-papa?... Why... why are they calling my papa... their papa?"