Obtuseness is a quality a male protagonist in a romance novel should possess.

[It’s over. How do I probe now?]

Iris, oblivious to a certain black-haired Hero munching on her romance melon, vented at Charlie.

In a flash, she realized both her plans—seduce Luke herself or use Charlie to fish intel—were toast.

All Charlie’s fault!

She shot the pitiful redhead another glare, then curtsied to Luke. “First meeting, Lord Luke. I’m Lady Elia’s maid, Iris.”

Plan B abandoned, her demeanor snapped to normal—elegant, composed. Probing Luke for Elia’s happiness? Still on.

[Your mistress doesn’t want romantic happiness.] Luke chuckled inwardly, extending a hand. “First meeting. I’m Luke, the 250th Hero.”

Literature has no first, martial arts no second. Saintesses had ranks—Grand, Candidate, Apprentice—so Heroes had tiers too. Thanks to Hero Chronicles, a gossip rag, the top 500 were ranked.

Southern Border, weakest of five realms, capped at 143rd. Luke was famous for fastest rise and most recent feats—Chronicles pegged him a potential Top 100, currently 250th. He didn’t mind the number; only certain origins would.

His memory-reading accelerated with verified intel. In moments, he’d pulled yesterday’s Elia-Iris chat—filtered heavily by Iris’s bias, but usable.

[So the pinkette wants me drowning in fangirls, then slanders me as a degenerate?] Plausible. Iris was here to test if he was a perv.

“Lord Luke, I have a question.” Calmed, Iris shook his hand, rolling with the mishap.

“Ask away.”

“Have you ever had a lover?”

Pfft.

Charlie, actually drinking, sprayed water.

He gawked at dead-serious Iris, then Luke’s “pretty-boy” face (most girls’ type), sweating bullets.

The pressure surpassed breaking a 3,000-bandit siege with 30 riders.

[Overreacting. Also, pretty-boy? You’ve clearly never seen Wu Xfan or Kunkun. This is plain handsome—like Gu Xle!] Luke roasted internally.

Iris’s directness made sense. Seduction? Out of her league.

Charlie as wingman? Mute. Straight ask fit Luke’s “upright” image.

“Nope.” Luke grinned, pure as Ding Zhen.

“None? But you’re so handsome!” Iris gasped, ignoring Charlie’s shaken face.

“Some confessed, but I was focused on getting stronger, fighting Demon King’s army. Missed my chance.” Luke scratched his head sheepishly.

“A true man prioritizes the world and battling evil!” Charlie’s eyes lit up, righteous backup.

Ignoring the loudmouth, Iris eased into gossip mode, excitement rising: “What do you think of Lady Elia?”

She instantly regretted the bluntness.

“Huh? So those questions were for Elia?” Charlie caught on, beaming. “I was right from the start!”

Iris: …

Love makes people stupid—true. Luke shook his head, smiling.

“Lady Elia is kind and beautiful…”

Standard Messiah answer, but Iris read: strong favorable impression.

[As expected of Lady Elia—captured his heart so fast!]

Iris was ride-or-die loyal. She’d prepped for any outcome—even Luke disliking Elia (unpleasant plans that’d hurt Elia or make her seem pushy). Her duty: nip embarrassment in the bud. Seeing Luke at least liked Elia? Joy.

Luke exhaled internally.

He’d considered feigning disinterest, but Iris’s memory showed: Zero interest → Instant missionary mode. She’d hound him, preaching Elia’s perfection until he admitted her beauty shook heavens, kindness moved galaxies. Terrifying.

So he showed appreciation—TV-star crush level.

“…I’m sure our journey will be very pleasant.”

Smooth, natural. Iris felt great—until seconds later, she sensed wrongness.

No real romance experience, but she’d seen it—novels, gossip, real couples. Luke’s vibe? Discussing someone else.

Bad hunch. She pressed: “Lord Luke, what do you think of Lady Elia?”

“Didn’t I say? Great. We’ll get along.”

“Not as a teammate—as a romantic partner.”

“Huh?” Luke froze, then scratched his head with a wry smile. “Sorry, never thought of it that way… Besides, Lady Elia doesn’t feel that way, right?”