Don’t Fight Over Me

Early the next morning, Luke received a formal audience with the King of Messiah.

The king appeared enthusiastic, brimming with admiration for Luke, but even without mind-reading, Luke felt not the slightest goodwill toward him.

As the southern continent’s most resource-rich and vast nation, Messiah’s national strength was merely middling, while its citizens’ living standards ranked near the bottom.

The royal family and nobility’s corruption and callous indifference were infamous far and wide.

That was one thing—Luke wasn’t a statesman.

But today’s summons was actually his first meeting with the king.

Yesterday’s welcoming party had been led by a duke and the Saintess, with not a single direct royal in sight.

And it wasn’t because the king or princes were busy.

They were afraid. Even though they’d invited him, they feared Luke had ulterior motives or ties to domestic rebel groups—precedents existed in other nations.

In fact, his luggage had been magically scanned multiple times yesterday.

Before and after the ball, he’d been under constant surveillance—even in his inn room.

After today, he’d move into the palace, into a residence “specially prepared” for him, undoubtedly laced with monitoring spells.

Laughably, despite such paranoia, they still wanted to leave a good impression and forge closer ties.

“Hero Luke, may you enjoy a pleasant stay in our kingdom.” The king, looking every bit the kindly grandfather, clasped Luke’s hand and delivered an earnest pep talk.

The reason was simple: if, by some chance, Luke’s team defeated the Demon King or achieved great feats, Messiah—the kingdom that recommended him—would reap immense rewards. If Luke developed a sense of belonging and declared in battle, “I am the Hero from the Kingdom of Messiah,” it would be ideal.

Thus, they required him to stay for months—no, they never intended to ask his opinion.

Fortunately, staying wasn’t all bad.

“I wish to visit Her Highness Elia. Please announce me.”

Exiting the council hall, Luke addressed a nearby guard.

Though he had little fondness for the fraudulent pink-haired Saintess, the mere fact that she knew the future plot made him willing to hold his nose and team up.

If she became unbearable, he could ditch her after leaving the kingdom and extracting enough intel.

“At once!”

As the kingdom’s current VIP, the guard dared not delay. But before he could move, a red-haired man blocked Luke’s path with an outstretched arm.

“Lord Charlie?”

The guard jumped, a flood of rumors about the man surging through his mind—perfect intel for Luke.

“What business do you have with Her Highness Elia?”

After freezing the guard in place, Charlie loomed before Luke, glaring like he was interrogating a criminal.

“I’d like to get to know Her Highness better to facilitate future cooperation.” Luke smiled openly and extended a hand. “First time meeting you. I’m Luke. You must be the renowned General Charlie.”

Charlie coldly swatted his hand away.

“Cut the act! What are you really after?”

Sigh. The unreasonable type.

Luke’s persona was meticulously refined through mind-reading—impervious to normal scrutiny.

But like a scholar facing a soldier, reason meant nothing here. Charlie didn’t care about truth or deception; he’d already decided Luke was guilty. This was the type Luke handled worst.

Meanwhile, passing officials and nobles initially approached to intervene but retreated the moment they spotted Charlie’s fiery red spiky hair, waiting for some brave soul to play hero.

Clearly, Charlie was a notorious, unstoppable beast.

“There must be some misunderstanding between us…”

Luke decided to try diplomacy—not out of fear, but to avoid hurting the man. If Charlie proved a thug who’d attack in public, Luke wouldn’t hold back.

Sadly, Charlie wasn’t having it.

“Less talk. Fight me—”

As Charlie reached for his knightly sword, a clear, melodic voice rang out.

“Stop!”

Everyone turned. The pink-haired beauty hurried over with urgent yet graceful steps, gazing at them with worried, heartbroken eyes. “Please, don’t fight.”

The Saintess’s personal intervention brought collective relief. Even Charlie, moments ago seething, went blank upon seeing her. When awareness returned, guilt overwhelmed his anger.

Luke now understood just how absurdly beloved Elia was in Messiah. Regrettably, the person in question was thinking thoughts that utterly betrayed that trust.

[‘Charlie, you idiot! Fighting here’s no fun—take it to the barracks! And ditch that flimsy toy sword; whip out your massive flaming greatsword!’]

A chibi in her mind bounced furiously beside Charlie, yelling.

“Your Highness, I deeply apologize for disturbing you.”

Charlie dropped to one knee in contrition. But before Elia could speak (she had no intention to), he stood, whirling to glare at Luke. “Do not interfere, Your Highness… Hero Luke, I formally challenge you!”

“Big Brother Charlie, please don’t!”

The delighted pink-haired Saintess darted in front of Luke, striking a protective stance. “Lord Luke is not a bad person. There must be a misunderstanding!”

“Your Highness, we’ll know after crossing blades!” Seeing Elia risk herself so fiercely only convinced Charlie further of Iris’s suspicions.

[‘Good, good, but not enough. Time to fan the flames.’]

The chibi in her mind smirked wickedly. Elia softened her expression, stepping forward with gratitude and worry. “Big Brother Charlie, please… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Your Highness…” Charlie wavered, knowing her boundless kindness.

But the classic “restrain to release” tactic never failed.

“I know you’re worried for me, but I’m fine. Lord Luke is absolutely trustworthy… Please believe me, okay?”

Elia unleashed her ultimate move—an expression of selfless devotion, as if sacrificing herself for the nation.

In that moment, Charlie understood.

Mind control? Sweet talk? How could such trifles affect this powerful, resolute, wise Saintess? Yet in her infinite mercy, she chose to redeem even villains.

Thus, she pretended ignorance, feigning infatuation, planning to risk herself to reform this despicable Hero.

Grasping Elia’s noble resolve, Charlie’s hesitation vanished.

Gently shielding her behind him, he stared down the black-haired youth.

“Hero Luke, I demand a duel to the death!”