The Road Ahead: Hope and Hidden Fears

Approximately seven days had passed, yet the master and servant still hadn’t discovered any signs of human civilization.

Tang Wenxu had grown significantly thinner, his pajamas now tattered rags. His face was peeling from the sun, his once fair skin now a patchwork of red and black, and his increasingly dense beard lent him a somewhat unkempt appearance.

While his hair had always been a bit disheveled, his features were regular. Once tidied, he wasn’t ugly; in fact, he could even be considered handsome. Now, however, he was the picture of a disheveled mess.

In contrast, Kuroki Nao didn’t appear quite so wretched. Her hair was merely a little messy, her face smudged with dust. The hardships hadn’t diminished her charm in the slightest; instead, they added a touch of delicate vulnerability—perhaps a testament to the power of a beautiful girl.

Despite his disheveled state, Tang Wenxu seemed remarkably optimistic. He understood that both optimism and pessimism were contagious, so why not choose to display a more cheerful demeanor?

In just a few short days, they had encountered a myriad of strange creatures: rabbits with single horns, slimes, and fire-breathing insects. Though he felt fear, he couldn’t show it; a man’s duty was to protect a woman.

They had also faced several crises. They’d come across saber-toothed tigers, creatures long extinct on Earth, and undead skeletons straight out of an RPG game, along with pythons larger than a human.

Fortunately, these seemingly “benevolent” creatures hadn’t attacked them. They merely cast a perfunctory glance before hurrying away, like transient passersby.

‘Was this easy mode for life in another world?’ Tang Wenxu mused. The monsters didn’t even actively attack people. Perhaps they weren’t as terrifying as they seemed; he even entertained the bizarre thought of asking one of the undead skeletons for directions.

In truth, peaceful coexistence with the monsters was simple: make them feel threatened. The demonic aura emanating from the young girl behind Tang Wenxu had taught those creatures this lesson profoundly. It was much like wolves in the real world, which could sense human fear and decide whether to attack accordingly.

The sun was about to set. They had originally planned to pin their hopes on tomorrow, but as they reached the mountائtop and gazed down, they were met with a genuine surprise: a small town.

Although it appeared quite distant from their vantage point on the mountain, so far that one might easily overlook it, it was unmistakably a town. Looking more closely, they could even discern plumes of cooking smoke rising into the air.

“It’s a town! Nao, we made it! We successfully got out!” Tang Wenxu leaped with joy, tears of excitement streaming down his face. Human civilization lay before them.

Once the initial euphoria subsided, a complex wave of emotions washed over him. He stood there for a long time, then, with a profound look, he murmured into the distance, “I’m back.”

How long had it been since he’d rejoined human society? Perhaps not just these seven short days, but a full three years. Ever since losing his mother, his world had been confined to the villa.

He had dropped out of school. The school he once attended was an international aristocratic private institution—more a stage for the children of global nobility to socialize than a place of study.

While some students’ academic performance was mediocre, they were all incredibly astute. Many had noticed anomalies during Tang Wenxu’s mother’s funeral. Though the funeral was respectable, no one from the Tang family, apart from Tang Wenxu and his father, attended.

Instead, people from smaller families had shown up. Later, news spread that Tang Wenxu’s father planned to marry a woman from another prominent family a year later.

Consequently, they all concluded that Tang Wenxu was merely the eldest young master of the Tang family in name; in reality, he had become an outcast.

Word spread like wildfire, yet the person most affected remained oblivious. His former friends, after offering insincere condolences, gradually distanced themselves from him. Tang Wenxu, once quite popular, eventually found himself without a single friend willing to eat with him or form a study group.

“Why did they leave me?” Tang Wenxu didn’t understand, so he asked Kuroki Nao.

“Friends ignore you because you no longer hold any utility value for them.”

“Is it because my grades slipped?” Tang Wenxu looked at his report card, where his ranking had plummeted from first in his year to forty-ninth.

“…” She shook her head, unable to bring herself to tell him the truth about his abandonment by the Tang family.

In truth, Tang Wenxu understood. He was naive, but not foolish. Yet, he often wished he were both.

“Nao, do I still hold any utility value for you?”

“Never,” Kuroki Nao replied.

“I see.” Tang Wenxu walked away, looking somewhat dejected.

Watching his retreating back, Kuroki Nao quietly murmured, “Although you hold no utility value for me, you are more important than anything else.”

From then on, he had begun a reclusive life. He didn’t resent the friends who had left him; he simply grew to fear social interaction. He understood the truth of friendship, much like playing League of Legends: a Challenger player always has more friends than a Bronze player.

After a skillful play, some would send friend requests to the Challenger. The Challenger would glance at the request list, scoffing, “Hmph, Bronze,” then disdainfully click “reject.” More often than not, they cared less about character and more about the ability to be carried to victory.

Human society lay below the mountain. Tang Wenxu resolved to create his own value. He wasn’t afraid of the hardship of earning money after descending; he feared that Kuroki Nao would leave him if he had no utility value.

He dreaded being alone, dreaded watching others walk away. He felt that sensation was more terrifying than death itself.

‘I must work hard now. First, I’ll learn the language of this world.’ He knew how to cook, so at the very least, he could become a chef. He wondered if the people of this world enjoyed Chinese cuisine; even if they didn’t, he could also cook French food.

Later, once he saved enough money, he would build a modest house, just for him and Kuroki Nao. For him, Kuroki Nao was no longer just a mere servant; she was family, a younger sister worth risking his life to protect.

Sensing her master’s renewed fighting spirit, Kuroki Nao smiled, though it was an unnatural one.

She felt conflicted. Her master’s growth should have made her happy, but arriving at the town likely meant the end of their world of two. This made it impossible for her to feel joy. She even feared that a girl more perfect than herself might one day snatch her master away.

If that day ever came, she couldn’t guarantee whether she would quietly stand by and bless them or do something terrible.

Whenever such terrifying thoughts arose, she would constantly tell herself, ‘I am just a maid, just a servant; I must not harbor improper thoughts about my master.’ But the more she thought this, the less she knew what she would truly do when the time came.

Despite the conflict, there was one thing she felt no contradiction about: if anyone ever dared to harm her master, she would kill them!

“Are you tired? You don’t look well.” After walking a short distance, Tang Wenxu saw Kuroki Nao standing lost in thought and asked with concern.

“Ah.” She quickly reined in her killing intent. “No, no, I’m fine.” Then she followed him.

“Are you really okay? You must be tired these past few days. If it’s too much, we can just spend the night here. It looks like there’s only about a day’s journey left at most.”

“I said I’m fine, let’s go!” Kuroki Nao pushed Tang Wenxu’s back, urging him forward.

‘That was close,’ she thought. ‘I absolutely cannot let Master see that side of me.’ She hoped to always appear as a delicate, easily-tumbled maiden in his eyes, not an assassin driven by whim.