The night air that had been blocked by the outer wall clung to us the moment we crossed the threshold, cutting through the grass. Mille, wearing a thick coat tightly, said to me:

“It’s cold.”

And when she grinned, white breath rose through her teeth. Looking at the shape rising like smoke from cooking rice in the countryside, I also blew out to create the same white vapor. Then, rubbing my body with both arms, I asked her:

“Why did you call me?”

I knew why she had called me, but I asked the question out of courtesy. If I turned my head, the soft lighting created a hazy night fog, making us feel like we were in a dream. Mille brushed off the damp grass and sat on a chair placed outside the house, saying:

“I’m strange, aren’t I?”

Mille was definitely strange. She was strange like when she made that bombshell statement that the hero didn’t understand her when we met Bnuel today. Her smiling face also looked a bit strange, and she exuded an awkward atmosphere unlike her usual self. I nodded and said:

“Yes.”

“Especially today, I was even more so.”

“Yes.”

She only said things that made me nod. After I answered twice, she didn’t continue the conversation. She just grinned as if trying not to reveal her emotions. But her smiling face didn’t look like she was smiling, rather it only looked gloomy. I asked her:

“Did you want the hero to understand you?”

“…Yes. Everything from A to Z.”

The scope of understanding she was thinking of was a bit broader than what I had in mind. Even if the hero had been here, the scale would have been the same. I asked:

“Why did you think that?”

“Because the hero is a hero.”

“That’s difficult. Too difficult for an ignorant man like me to understand.”

Mille didn’t verbally elaborate. She pulled out a small book from inside her coat and handed it to me. The book was a fairy tale popular among the common people. A romantic story about a hero appearing to defeat the bad villain and save the world.

[Stylish Hero Carlos]

Mille nodded as I looked back and forth between the book and her. Reluctantly, I opened the book and began to read its contents at her gesture urging me to read quickly.

[Hero Carlos is the most stylish man in the world. Everyone liked him and he got along well with everyone.

Carlos also got along well with elves. Because he was a hero. Carlos could be friends with anyone in the world.]

Carlos, who became friends with elves.

Of course, this person didn’t exist in reality. It was just a fictional fairy tale that was popular in the kingdom and empire before the Demon King appeared. A time when there were only low-quality people who worshipped demons, and people fought and growled at each other.

“It’s a book I haven’t seen in a long time. It was popular when I was young.”

“I also read that book when I was young. It said so in there. That a hero is someone who understands everyone. So, even an oddball like me could be understood. That’s why I practiced hard and trained hard. I won first place in the hunter’s competition, and I worked here and there.”

Mille wasn’t bad. Like people often do, Mille was simply expecting too much from the hero. Some people want to be understood and have everything about themselves affirmed. They want an angel to appear who accepts their wounds with infinite inclusivity, and they believe like a religion that someday such a person will appear and embrace them.

But I didn’t want to understand such optimism. Because a person who can understand everyone doesn’t exist in the world. Mille said tearfully:

“I thought a hero could understand me. But that’s not the case. The hero always keeps a bit of distance from me.”

That’s how Mille seemed to feel about the hero. The hero had tried to understand Mille and integrate with her in his own way, but that effort was insufficient for Mille, and rather felt like drawing a line.

Good people gathering together doesn’t necessarily mean that the result will always flow in a good direction. Her gloomy expression proved that. Mille was sniffling and looking at the ground, and tears rolled down her cute cheeks.

Mille was quite a selfish woman. But she was also a pitiful elf who struggled with the desire to be understood by others. I looked at Mille’s tears and asked:

“What’s so bad about not being understood?”

“Huh?”

Mille looked at me with round eyes. I spread my arms and said:

“Look at me. I’m a braggart who’s crazy about widows. Does it make sense that a smart and handsome man who could settle down and start a family anywhere is wasting his time like this?”

Mille frowned as she looked at me. She was trying to understand my words, but it didn’t seem to be working well. After blinking her eyes several times and tilting her head, she said:

“…I don’t understand.”

“That’s right, Mille. Then am I not your friend? Because there are aspects of me that you don’t understand. Does that mean we can’t be comrades or friends with each other?”

When I brought up such an extreme point, Mille was flustered and hastily shook her head, saying:

“No, no, I don’t want that. Because the porter is a good person.”

I smiled and nodded.

“That’s right. We may have parts of each other that we don’t understand, but we can still be friends. Mille, did you really join the party just because the hero is the hero? Did you just blindly join because he’s the hero, without him having any good points?”

Mille shook her head. The connection between Mille and the hero wasn’t such a simple relationship that could be summed up with just one fairy tale book. They were real comrades who had built deep bonds fighting against demons.

“…No. The hero is very kind and good. He always shows the same attitude when dealing with others. Even if he meets bad people, he understands them if they have circumstances, but he’s merciless when fighting demons. He’s decisive and cool.”

“Right? Mille already knows so many good points about the hero. Mille, the hero is trying to understand you. Because you’re comrades. That’s another wonderful thing about the hero. The fact that he tries to understand his comrades and think from their perspective.”

Mille smiled and nodded.

“Right. The hero always thinks deeply. So sometimes his reactions are slow, and sometimes he’s a bit off, but that’s what’s fun about him.”

“The hero might be encountering elves for the first time through you, Mille. Don’t people from different cultures take time to understand each other? And what if you don’t understand? Even if there are parts we don’t understand. We can still be friends. Like me and you, Mille. Like other people.”

Mille stared at me and smiled. Seeing the shadow lift from her beaming expression, I felt my heart lightening as well. She looked at me, swinging her feet back and forth, then tilted her head slightly and asked me:

“It seems like the porter understands me very well.”

“I… I’m just such a wonderful person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mille spoke with a disgusted expression but still laughed. I laughed as much as Mille did, and forgot that the night air was cold.

“What’s your dream, porter?”

Mille said, dusting off her seat and standing up.

“My dream?”

“I mean, why did you join the party and want to go to the Empire?”

“Because it’s my homeland.”

It was a simple reason, but it also contained complicated circumstances. Most people imagined my situation in their own different ways after hearing this one phrase, then turned away.

“Homeland.”

Mille looked around her surroundings. She could see a dark forest surrounded by beautiful lighting and a soft fog. The sound of insects came from afar, and when she turned her head to look at the second floor, Bnuel was researching. She had come out to the balcony and was looking down at me and Mille, then disappeared again through the second-floor door like a shadow.

Mille’s eyes looking at her were sparkling.

Mille looked at the second floor with bright eyes, then looked at me and said:

“I understand.”

“You’ve understood.”

We looked into each other’s eyes again and smiled. Mille spread her arms wide and carefully opened the front door. After checking if the rest of the party had fallen asleep inside, she carefully stepped in again. Then she wrapped the blanket around her body, threw herself onto the sofa, and said to me in a small voice:

“Good night.”

“Sleep well.”

So I closed my eyes again. After a deep conversation, mental fatigue presses down on the body and one tends to fall asleep quickly. Before I could even count to 10 with my eyes closed, the world was surrounded by pitch darkness and silence, urging me to rest.

“Um, excuse me…”

But my rest didn’t last even for a moment. I blinked my eyes and looked around, seeing the night sky over the ridge still shining with starlight. As I looked around with a puzzled face and turned my head, the hero was sitting there with an awkward smile.

“Um… I’m sorry, but… could you go for a walk with me for a bit? I woke up and can’t fall back asleep.”

I thought for a moment.

Could I just say I’m tired and go to sleep here?

Aren’t I already doing enough as a porter?

“Um… is it not okay? Sir?”

But how could I ignore him when the hero was struggling like this?

I got up without even sighing and said:

“Yes, Hero.”