While getting a good look at the person, I realize—she’s extremely beautiful, even with all the mud and grime covering her. In some areas, if she were in a mud-wrestling league, she’d easily become her manager’s breadwinner.

  She’s wearing priestly attire embroidered with golden thread, splattered with colorful ads and idol faces. It’s like she embodies the very faith of these icons of sin—which is what I call influencers. She has pointy ears and a nice rack. A busty elf? Check. Priestly clothes? Another check. Hopeful, glimmering eyes? Triple check.

  She’s looking at Whalescalibur with worshipping eyes. That sure as hell seals it. She’s a heroine meant for a hero party… Damn it. She’s the Saintess, the most dangerous existence for a guy like me. Better keep the gag on her just to be safe.

  I’m just about to back away and let nature take its course (obviously, I would’ve left an anonymous tip—I'm not that heartless) when Merry appears in the distance. Her blocky face shines with glowing majesty.

  I silently curse:

  “Damn it, an unskippable event.”

  Merry runs over to the tied-up woman and squeals like a deranged fangirl as she unties her.

  Squeals of joy? Must be evil an evil entity cosplaying as a priest .

  Why is my luck stat always below zero?

  Whalescalibur chimes in:

  “Is that Saintess Elnora? Wow—it’s been a while! Now that I see her standing up… she hasn’t aged a day!”

  Wait what!?

  The damn sword knows her!?

  Whalescalibur continues narrating like a grandma showcasing a family photo album:

  “She looks the same as the day she joined Amanonus’ quest. Time really does fly~.”

  Of course, everything comes back to Amanonus’ legacy and more importantly, she’s apparently an old hag!?

  My legs start twitching—fight or flight is settling in—but then I hear a soothing voice:

  “Hero! Thank you for saving me on behalf of the Holy Union Congregation Group!”

  She looks all formal and proper now. How the hell did she clean up that fast!?

  “My dear hero,” she continues, “I see you have taken on the burden that even the great Amanonus couldn’t conquer. It must be excruciating. Here, let me give you a recovery ad—”

  “No thanks!” I shout immediately. “This is my burden to bear, please... no need to waste commercial resources...”

  Caladblock adds:

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Yes. Only he can bear me!”

  ...Pretty sure she skipped over the "burden" part, but I’ll let it slide. I smiled a little at that side of her.

  Then, as if struck by divine revelation, Elenora drops to her knees.

  “Not in 500 years have I seen such piety! Someone who has sacrificed their ad power to contain Caladblock?! Cursed hero, please subscribe to HUCG—so we may redeem you!”

  She extends her hand toward me.

  Am I hallucinating? It looks like an old crone’s hand with fire and pentagrams… I blink.

  Nope. It’s a perfectly manicured hand—with a bright red "SUBSCRIBE" button glowing in her palm.

  I obviously reject it.

  “Sorry, I’m already subscribed to the Cheapo Hero tier through Merryad’s group. Can’t change that for loyalty reasons.”

  Merry swoons and blushes. Ugh, I'm getting sick.

  Elenora, unfazed:

  “We can sponsor a collab with the kingdom under the Hero Quest Initiative of Old.”

  Whalescalibur explains:

  Cough cough “When a new demon king emerges, the factions compete by gathering good-aligned sponsors for the Hero Party Idol Group. That whole thing? Elenora started it way back in the day.”

  ...How old is this crone!?

  Merryad steps in:

  “We should discuss the details at the ‘Hero Welcoming Summit Event.’”

  Whale adds:

  “It’s protocol. When a Saintess finds a hero, we must report to the Holy City of Sub, where delegations compete in an Ad-Off. Whoever has the best ad based abilities wins.”

  “And of course,” she continues, “Elenora is the undefeated champion. That’s why she’s the most popular.”

  More ads… Fuuuuuuuuck me sideways.

  The Saintess hugs my arm tightly and says:

  “Let’s save the world together my one true hero!”

  Then Merry grabs my other arm and points to the sky:

  “To the castle, we have much to discuss!”

  I'm sandwiched between them and my legs refuse to move. I’m literally being dragged like a statue back to the damned castle.

  My cave… my murderhobo life… its gone. Just like that... but lets not despair.... I will be a murderhobo ahain...

  And now I’m back in my crappy hero room with the broken door draft. There are guards posted outside holding banners that read:

  “Subscribe to Premium Already!”

  I glare at them with hatred and they shiver and mutter:

  “The hero’s curse is strong… We must endure for the purity of the princess…”

  Suddenly, a guy with a package shows up.

  Whalescalibur squeals:

  “IT’S FINALLY HERE!!”

  It’s… the crappy polish.

  I look at it and groan, “I’m not in the mood.”

  She snaps back at me:

  “You’re never in the mood! I’ve been slaving away, tolerating your antics, and all I ask is some polish! Grab the towel and do your job for once!”

  Why do I feel like I’m the wife in this situation denying the exhausted husband his after-work "fun time"?

  ...Fine.

  Deadpan, I wash her with the bucket, dry her, and start polishing.

  She makes questionable noises:

  “Awwwaaahh~ That’s the spot~”

  I keep moving in rhythmic motions.

  Eventually, she glows—shining with a literal afterglow—and passes out.

  Then I hear a soft gulp behind me.

  “My turn…”

  I smile.

  “Sure.”

  Same process. The only difference is… now I’m smiling because I care.

  She trembles slightly during a few hiccups, but in the end, she says:

  “I’m soooo happyyyyy…”

  And then she, too, passes out—glowing faintly.

  I look down at my hands.

  “Do… I have a talent for polishing?”

  Narrator:

  Little did our hero know that this one skill would save him countless hours of pain and suffering… especially when dealing with all the overly emotional, moody, sentient items of this strange cursed world.