Reno woke up to silence.
Not the comfortable kind.
Not the kind where distant traffic hummed like a tired lullaby or neighbors argued about unpaid electricity.
This silence felt… expensive.
He opened his eyes.
Above him stretched a ceiling made of pale crystal panels arranged like overlapping petals. Soft golden light filtered through them, shifting gently as if the sky itself were breathing.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…Okay."
He remained perfectly still.
"If I don't move, maybe reality will uninstall itself."
Nothing happened.
The silk sheet beneath his fingers felt smooth and cool. When he shifted slightly, the mattress dipped like he had just stepped onto a cloud that paid taxes.
Very slowly, Reno pushed himself upright.
The bed was enormous. He could probably roll three times before reaching the edge. Thick white curtains framed tall windows that opened toward a balcony. Beyond them stretched a city he had never seen before in his life — white towers spiraling upward, bridges suspended between rooftops, banners drifting in the morning wind.
His mouth went dry.
"…Yeah. That's not Malang."
Memory returned all at once.
The execution attempt.
The yellow construction helmet.
The giant shadow wolf.
The glowing system text.
Queen Aleana.
Reno stared blankly into space for a full five seconds.
"…Oh no. I got plot."
Before panic could properly load, the door opened.
Three maids entered with quiet, practiced steps. Behind them came two attendants — both men.
Reno froze.
The attendants wore layered silk robes in soft pastel tones. Their hair was neatly braided, their movements graceful enough to make ballet look aggressive. One carried a tray with steaming tea. The other held a neatly folded set of clothes.
They bowed in perfect synchronization.
"Good morning, Royal Asset."
Reno pointed at himself.
"Still feels like you're addressing a software update."
One maid approached and gently helped him off the bed. Another began preparing the clothing with careful precision.
"Her Majesty requests your presence later this morning."
"…Requests or commands?"
A brief pause.
"…Both."
Reno sighed.
"Yeah. That sounds about right."
Breakfast was served on the balcony.
Reno didn't know whether to eat or to keep staring at the city below.
It was alive.
Women carried construction beams across scaffolding high above the streets. Groups of armored knights trained in formation in an open plaza. Merchants shouted prices while directing logistics teams like battlefield generals.
And the men…
They clustered near shaded gardens, chatting softly. Some practiced calligraphy. Others tended to decorative flower arrangements with intense concentration.
Reno slowly lowered his spoon.
"…So this really is a matriarchal world."
A young man walking below happened to glance up.
Their eyes met.
The man immediately blushed so hard Reno thought he might combust.
Reno gave an awkward wave.
The man fainted.
He turned back toward the table.
"…I think I just committed a cultural violation."
The maid beside him poured more tea.
"You will adjust."
"I'm not sure society will."
Still, he ate. Hunger transcended dimensions.
By the time he finished, a knight had arrived to escort him.
The palace corridors felt colder than the sunlight outside. Tapestries depicted women slaying monsters, leading armies, building kingdoms. Men appeared in the backgrounds — scholars, musicians, diplomats.
By the time Reno was escorted into the royal strategy chamber, he had already mentally resigned from life three separate times.
The doors alone were intimidating.
They were at least five meters tall, made of dark polished metal engraved with scenes of women riding giant beasts into battle. When the guards pushed them open, the hinges didn't creak.
They announced.
A deep resonant sound echoed through the hall like history itself was clearing its throat.
Reno immediately regretted existing.
The room beyond was vast.
Sunlight streamed through tall arched windows, illuminating an enormous circular stone table carved directly into the floor. The surface was covered in glowing maps — mountains formed from floating crystals, rivers that shimmered like liquid glass, miniature army markers slowly shifting as if alive.
Around the table stood more than a dozen women.
Some wore full armor scarred from combat. Others wore layered noble robes heavy with insignia. Every single one of them radiated the kind of confidence Reno only ever saw in LinkedIn profiles.
Conversation stopped the moment he entered.
It wasn't subtle.
It was the kind of silence that made your soul check whether your zipper was open.
Reno instinctively checked.
It wasn't.
Good.
Small victories.
At the center of the room stood Queen Aleana.
Her silver-white hair fell straight down her back like a drawn blade. Golden eyes watched him approach with quiet, unnerving focus.
"Sit," she said.
Reno nodded obediently and dropped into the nearest chair.
Immediately, a tall woman with dark braided hair cleared her throat.
"That seat," she said calmly, "is reserved for the High Marshal."
Reno froze mid-breath.
"…Ah."
He stood up so quickly the chair almost toppled over behind him.
"Sorry. First-day orientation confusion."
A few commanders exchanged glances. One noblewoman hid what was very clearly the beginning of a smile.
Aleana gestured toward another seat.
"This one."
He sat again.
Carefully this time.
Like he was trying to negotiate peace with furniture.
The queen placed one hand on the glowing map.
"Last night, you eliminated a calamity-class Shadow Fenrir."
Reno raised one finger.
"With hydration."
No one acknowledged the correction.
Instead, a general leaned forward.
"Your Majesty believes you possess unconventional tactical thinking."
Reno slowly turned his head.
"…Do I."
The general pointed at a section of the map where tiny crystal soldiers marched across a glowing plain.
"If an enemy army approached from the eastern frontier, how would you respond?"
Reno stared.
He had never even successfully responded to spam calls.
"…Define respond," he said cautiously.
A noblewoman frowned.
"Defend the capital, of course."
He swallowed.
His brain desperately searched for any military knowledge.
It found anime.
"…Um… I'd probably… put people on high places to watch them coming?"
Silence.
The kind that grows roots.
Then a commander whispered, "Elevated surveillance…"
Another nodded slowly. "Early detection protocols…"
The scribe near the wall began writing so fast her quill squeaked.
Reno blinked.
"…Oh no."
The braided general continued, now fully engaged.
"And once the enemy is spotted?"
He panicked.
"…We could… stall them? Like… delay tactics?"
"How?"
"…Roadblocks?"
A noble gasped softly.
"Controlled terrain denial…"
"Incredible…"
Someone actually murmured, "So simple… yet so profound…"
Reno felt his soul leave his body and hover near the ceiling.
He watched himself ruin military doctrine in real time.
Aleana spoke again.
"What of supply lines?"
Reno didn't even try anymore.
"…Online delivery?"
The entire room froze.
He realized too late that he had said that out loud.
"…I mean — portable distribution systems?" he added weakly.
A strategist slammed her palm onto the table.
"Mobile logistics!"
"Decentralized provisioning!"
"This would allow dynamic battlefield adaptation!"
Reno stared at the glowing map like it had personally betrayed him.
This is not my fault, he thought.These people are overqualified for misunderstanding.
Another commander stepped forward.
"If you were outnumbered three to one… what would you do?"
Reno answered instantly.
"Run."
Gasps.
The scribe nearly dropped her quill.
"…Strategic withdrawal…" someone whispered reverently.
"Preserving elite assets…"
Aleana's lips twitched.
Very slightly.
Reno caught it.
She's enjoying this.
A noblewoman adjusted her glasses.
"And if retreat is impossible?"
Reno shrugged.
"…Fake confidence?"
Dead silence.
Then—
"Psychological warfare."
"Morale destabilization."
"Brilliant…"
Reno wanted to lie down on the glowing map and become terrain.
The questions kept coming.
"What formation would you use in forest combat?"
"…The one with trees."
"Incredible environmental utilization."
"How do you counter aerial units?"
"…Don't look up?"
"Minimizing panic response…"
At some point Reno stopped trying to understand what was happening.
He simply answered honestly.
Because apparently honesty was now considered advanced strategy.
Finally, Aleana raised her hand.
Instant silence.
Her golden eyes studied him.
"For someone who claims ignorance… your instincts are remarkably aligned with survival."
Reno leaned back in his chair.
"Your Majesty, my instincts are aligned with not dying."
A few officers actually laughed this time.
The tension in the room shifted.
He wasn't just an anomaly anymore.
He was… interesting.
Aleana turned toward the assembled commanders.
"Prepare scenario simulations based on his proposals."
They nodded immediately.
Reno nearly fell off his chair.
"…Wait wait wait — don't build real plans from this! I was guessing!"
The braided general smiled faintly.
"Sometimes guessing reveals truth."
He covered his face with both hands.
"If this fails im going to die, aren't I."
Aleana stepped closer.
"Possibly."
He groaned.
"This is worse than unemployment."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Why?"
"Because unemployment never expected me to lead armies."
For the first time, the queen actually smiled.
Not widely.
But enough that the entire room felt warmer.
"Then consider this your new profession."
Reno stared at the glowing map… the hardened warriors… the woman who ruled them all.
"…Can I at least get training?"
Aleana's answer came without hesitation.
"You already began."
And somehow… that was the most terrifying thing she had said all morning.
Then Queen Aleana gave Reno free time to walk around the capital, to make Reno more accustomed to the surrounding atmosphere.
The capital greeted him with noise and color. Word of his survival — and supposed genius — had clearly spread. People stared openly now. Some bowed. Others whispered behind their hands.
A group of young scholars approached him near a marketplace fountain.
"Sir," one asked nervously, "is it true you defeated a calamity beast alone?"
Reno thought about the glowing gallon of water.
"…Team effort."
They nodded solemnly.
"A humble warrior."
He wanted to lie face-down on the pavement.
Further along, a child tugged his sleeve.
"Can men become knights too?"
The question caught him off guard.
Back home, he had never even been asked what he wanted to become.
He looked at the training grounds in the distance. Women clashed swords under the afternoon sun.
"…I don't know," he admitted. "But maybe you can try."
The boy grinned and ran off.
Something in Reno's chest felt strangely warm.
The palace at night was not quiet.
It only pretended to be.
Moonlight spilled across marble floors like diluted silver. Tall windows stood open just enough to let the wind breathe through silk curtains. Somewhere far below, fountains murmured. Somewhere even farther, armored boots moved in slow patrol patterns.
Security was tight.
It had to be.
A foreign male had appeared from forbidden smoke.
Killed a calamity beast.
Embarrassed the High Command by inventing military doctrine through pure confusion.
Naturally… someone had decided he needed to die.
On the outer wall, a shadow detached itself from darkness.
She was known only as Virel.
No surname.
No banner.
No recorded failures.
She moved across stone like memory slipping away.
The palace defenses were impressive — layered detection glyphs, rotating watch routes, aerial sentries perched like silent gargoyles.
She bypassed all of them.
A needle-thin tool disabled a rune.
A timed breath avoided a spotlight.
A single leap carried her silently to a balcony rail five floors above ground.
She landed without a sound.
Her golden eyes scanned the chamber beyond the curtains.
Target confirmed.
Male.
Sleeping diagonally across an absurdly large bed like he had lost a wrestling match with luxury.
Virel frowned.
"…This is the kingdom's terrifying strategic weapon?"
Reno snored.
Loudly.
Then rolled over and hugged a pillow with the emotional commitment of someone who had not received affection in years.
She felt… mildly offended.
Still, contract was contract.
She stepped inside.
Her boots touched the floor.
At that exact moment—
SQUEAK.
She froze.
The sound echoed like betrayal.
She slowly looked down.
There was a rubber duck.
A small yellow rubber duck.
She stared at it.
It stared back.
Virel blinked.
"…Why. A duck? Sqeaking?"
From the bed, Reno mumbled in his sleep.
"…Limited edition… don't steal…"
She stepped around the duck with surgical precision.
Her hand moved toward her waist.
Out came a curved dagger coated in faint green poison. Not lethal immediately — professionals preferred control.
She approached the bed.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Reno suddenly sat up.
Virel reacted instantly, blade already descending—
"WATER GALLON DISCOUNT DAY—!!"
He screamed.
Then flopped back down asleep.
The blade stopped one centimeter above his throat.
Silence returned.
Virel inhaled slowly.
"…I am being tested by the gods."
She raised the dagger again.
This time, she would finish it cleanly.
Then—
CLACK.
A mechanical sound echoed.
She didn't even have time to register danger before the bed frame collapsed.
Completely.
The entire structure sank downward like a trapdoor.
Mattress, pillows, blankets, Reno — all vanished into a hidden maintenance pit.
Virel remained standing at floor level, dagger still raised, staring at an empty space.
Far below, Reno hit something soft.
"OOF."
He opened his eyes.
Darkness.
Dust.
Cobwebs.
"…Did the bed just rage quit?"
He sat up slowly.
Above him, a silhouette appeared.
Moonlight framed the figure.
Knife.
Cloak.
Professional posture.
Reno blinked.
"…Room service?"
Virel considered throwing the dagger.
Instead, she jumped.
Gravity carried her straight down toward him.
Lucky Bastard triggered.
A loose wooden beam dislodged.
It swung.
Hit her mid-air.
Changed her trajectory.
She crashed into a stack of old decorative shields with a metallic avalanche.
Reno instinctively curled into a ball.
"…I don't want to die in a basement. That's statistically embarrassing."
She stood up immediately.
Elite training.
No hesitation.
She lunged again.
Reno scrambled backward.
His hand hit something cylindrical.
Cold.
Familiar.
He slowly turned.
A glowing magical water gallon sat there.
"…Why are you stalking me."
Virel attacked.
Reno panicked and threw the gallon.
It bounced.
Once.
Twice.
Hit a hanging lantern rope.
The lantern fell.
Oil spilled.
Flames spread.
Now the pit was on fire.
Both of them froze.
"…Okay," Reno said. "This assassination has escalated."
Smoke rose upward through the open floor.
Above, palace guards heard the commotion.
Boots thundered.
Torches flared.
Virel clicked her tongue.
Mission compromised.
She went for a final decisive strike.
[Lucky Bastard Overdrive]
Reno slipped on melted candle wax.
Accidentally performed a full spinning dodge.
Her blade stabbed straight into the wall… triggering a hidden spring mechanism.
A massive decorative chandelier detached from the ceiling above.
CRASH.
Crystal exploded everywhere.
Guards burst in seconds later.
They saw:
A Burning maintenance pit, Collapsed bed, Unconscious elite assassin pinned under debris, Reno sitting cross-legged holding a water gallon like emotional support
"…I survived," he announced weakly.
Queen Aleana entered last.
Her gaze took in everything.
The chaos.
The destruction.
The man.
Alive.
Again.
"…Explain."
Reno pointed at the assassin.
"She started it."
A long pause followed.
Then, unbelievably, one of the guards whispered:
"He defeated another threat."
Another nodded.
"Without even drawing a weapon…"
Aleana stepped closer.
Very close.
"So enemies move sooner than expected."
Reno rubbed his face.
"Your Majesty, respectfully… can I get hazard pay?"
For the first time the very cold queen that everyone in the country laughed in front of them.
The guards were surprised to see the queen laugh, because for the first time the queen could laugh freely. And from that moment on, something grew between the queen and Reno.