I once dreamed of becoming a hero.
Tales told of warriors who cleaved through demon armies with radiant blades, felled the Demon King, wed the princess, and reigned as kings in eternal ease.
As a child, that final picture of a throne and endless leisure captivated me more than glory or salvation.
Other children shouted about rescuing the world or basking in adoration.
I, Jirei Laro, craved only the crown and the quiet days that followed.
If defeating the Demon King granted kingship, then supreme strength was my path to peace.
I trained until muscles tore and breath failed.
I fought beasts far beyond my size, died twice beneath their claws, and returned each time with revival elixirs burning in my veins.
I pored over spell tomes by candlelight until dawn painted the pages gold.
Twelve years later, I could scatter dragon flocks with a single swing.
S-class adventurers bled to claim one; I treated them as morning exercise.
Only the Holy Mark remained, the brand that would name me hero and open the palace doors.
One noon, I sat in a set-meal shop, grimacing at a foul magic booster.
Two merchants nearby laughed over steaming rice and miso soup.
"The hero never sleeps; he is slaying monsters from dawn to midnight, racing to villages under starlight, no rest, no holidays."
"Even after the crown, the work never ends."
One tipped his sake cup. "I abandoned the dream when I learned kingship is endless duty."
Their red-faced laughter rang like a death knell.
My spoon hung motionless, broth cooling untouched.
No rest? No leisure? A lifetime of labor even after victory?
Every scar, every near-death, every sleepless night turned to ash in my mouth.
Hours later, thoughts finally settling, I chose.
I crushed the booster vial beneath my heel, glass sparkling across the floorboards.
Magic Real Estate received my urgent call before sunset.
I claimed a modest hut on the city's fringe, far from quests and thrones.
From then on, I would work only enough to fill my bowl, sleep until the sun climbed high, and let heroes chase their endless burdens.
I registered as a D-rank adventurer who hunted goblins and nothing more.
My black hair stayed plain, my strength locked behind lazy mornings and quiet meals.
The road to heroism stretched on without me.
I walked the opposite way. No longer wanting to be a hero. I walked toward silence, warm bread, and a life that's finally mine.