The maids scurried out like frightened mice, though Cherry definitely took a lingering look over her shoulder at the goods before the door clicked shut.
Kaizen yawned, stretching his arms high above his head. The movement caused his open robe to shift dangerously, offering a panoramic view of the crown jewels to anyone brave enough to look.
"Alright, let's get down to business. Before we start packing, tell me what we need and where to find it."
"That is..."
Seraphina stared at the floor, sweating bullets. Her eyes darted everywhere except the center of his body.
Kaizen smirked. He had her.
"Come on, spit it out. What's the grocery list to save your beloved Arthur? Without this potion, he's basically a ticking time bomb, right?"
He wasn't wrong.
Dark magic was a very rude type of magic.
If you got hit by it and didn't cure it, it would slowly sip your life force like a guy drinking tea at a wedding. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just sip… sip… die.
It wouldn't heal on its own either. Nope. The only cure was a legendary potion.
Legendary.
Which meant:
A ridiculous amount of time, a mountain of money, several life-threatening adventures, and at least three people with tragic backstories and "extraordinary powers."
In short, totally impossible.
So if a normal person got cursed by dark magic… they were finished. Done. Over.
Even nobles were not special.
Your best options were:
Commit suicide with dignity.
Or lie down and wait politely while death crawled toward you like a lazy snail.
Very hopeful choices.
Now, dark magic did have a weakness.
Light magic.
But of course, nobody actually knew how to properly use it.
All people knew was this:
Light magic bullied dark magic.
If a dark mage and a light mage of the same rank fought, the dark mage might as well start writing his will, because light magic was four times more effective against dark magic.
Four times.
That wasn't a weakness. That was racism.
Unfortunately, this world barely produced any light magic users.
Maybe one in ten million.
That was so rare that kings looked at the situation and said:
"Yeah… summoning heroes from another world sounds easier."
And so, instead of finding light mages, they started kidnapping people from other worlds.
Problem solved. Probably.
'Funny how that works. Every single sucker summoned from other world is a Light User. Even me. It's almost like the System is rigged.'
Seraphina stopped twisting her fingers into pretzels and looked at him with big, watery, pleading eyes.
"The... the ingredients are... Lava Frog's Saliva..."
'Gross. Probably tastes like spicy snot. But easy enough.'
"The... um... Ultra Blue Violet Lily's fourth petal..."
'The fourth? Specifically? What happens if you use the third? Does the potion explode? Who wrote this recipe, a Karen?'
"Th-then... uh... a Phoenix's Tear..."
Kaizen blinked.
'Okay, scaling up. Phoenixes are rare even in the crappy fantasy novels back home. How do you even get a fire-bird to cry? Show it my bank account balance? Insult its mother?'
Still, Phoenixes weren't usually aggressive. They were just hard to find. So why was she trembling like a leaf in a hurricane? There had to be a kicker.
"And?"
"A-and... and... a Matured Dragon's Heart...."
Silence.
Seraphina squeezed her eyes shut, shoulders hunched, waiting for the screaming. She waited for him to yell that it was suicide, that he was packing his bags and leaving.
She slowly, meekly tilted her head up, peeking through her lashes to gauge the terror on his face.
But there was no terror.
Kaizen was grinning.
It wasn't a nice smile. It was the wide, manic, toothy grin of a psychopath who just found out he legally gets to blow something up. His greasy face shone with excitement.
'What the hell is wrong with this guy?! Is he suicidal?!'
Seraphina stared at him, and let's be real here, objectively speaking, Kaizen was a visual disaster.
If "ugliness" was a crypto-currency, this guy would be the market leader. His hair was so greasy you could lubricate a tank engine with it, slicked back like he'd dipped his head in a KFC deep fryer.
His face was a topographic map of active volcanoes, pimples ready to erupt at a moment's notice, and his skin had the healthy pallor of a goblin living in a basement.
He didn't look like a Holy Hero; he looked like the guy who sells stolen hubcaps behind a Denny's.
But Seraphina was currently wearing "Desperation Goggles" with the tint set to maximum.
Through her tear-filled, hopeful eyes, the grease shimmering on his forehead wasn't hygiene neglect—it was the "Glow of Justice."
That jagged acne scar on his chin wasn't from popping a zit too hard; it was a "Mark of Rugged Masculinity."
"You... you aren't scared?"
Kaizen took a slow, deliberate step forward. The sash of his bathrobe was hanging on by a single thread, the fabric threatening to unleash the beast again.
He flashed a smile that revealed crooked, yellowing teeth with a piece of spinach stuck in the incisor.
To Seraphina, it sparkled like a diamond commercial.
"Scared? Princess, I eat dragons for breakfast. Literally. High protein. Good for the gains."
He took another step. The smell hit her, a potent cocktail of unwashed musk, stale sweat, and onions. It was the scent of a locker room after overtime.
Seraphina inhaled it deeply, flared her nostrils, and decided it smelled like Chanel No. Hero.
"So, let me get this straight. You want me? In your team? You want this..."
He gestured to his own lanky, muscular frame, looking like a jacked up scarecrow in a towel.
"...to be your savior?"
Seraphina's heart did a triple backflip. She took a hesitant step toward him, eyes glistening, practically anime-sized with emotion.
"Yes! More than anything!"
"You want me to go out there, risk my precious neck, trek through mud and goblin crap, just to save your boyfriend Arthur?"
Another step closer. They were inches apart now. The heat radiating off his unwashed body was palpable.
Seraphina nodded so hard her neck cracked audibly. She looked up at his face, lost in the sauce. For a brief, insane second, a rogue thought crossed her mind.
'He... he has a certain wild charm, doesn't he? A raw, primal energy. If he had been summoned first...'
'if I met this rugged man before Arthur... would I have fallen for him?'
The thought made her cheeks burn. She felt like a fan girl standing in front of a rockstar. She reached out, her small, manicured hands grabbing his hairy forearms.
The hair felt like steel wool, but she squeezed it like it was velvet. She looked deep into his beady, rat-like eyes with total, unwavering devotion.
"So... is that a yes, Great Hero?"
Kaizen looked down at her. He sniffed loudly, a wet, guttural sound, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
His eyes grew misty. His chin quivered with raw emotion.
He looked like a man overcome with the weight of the moment, a legend ready to accept his destiny.
He offered a slow, solemn nod.
"No."