How to Save a Time-Limited Heroine

Deltain didn’t think much of it.

Although there was a moment of hesitation when choosing his formal attire today, he brushed it off, focusing only on the he had to do.

The composure he managed to maintain was reflected in his steady heartbeat.

Therefore, the shock was even more palpable.

Agnes, whom he finally faced, radiated an ethereal beauty.

“How do I look?”

In the duke’s hall.

Agnes approached Deltain with a smile.

Her blonde hair was neatly tied up in a bun. Her slightly flushed cheeks and long, delicate eyelashes were touching, while her eyes, now free of dark circles, shone more warmly than usual with their cherry blossom hue.

But that wasn’t all. The dress, simple in its white and pink combination without extravagant embellishments, only enhanced her beauty.

Someone once said that the best accessory was a beautiful face. Deltain finally agreed.

Despite the absence of any dazzling jewelry or luxurious adornments, the mere fact that it was Agnes wearing that simple dress made Deltain feel a flutter in his chest.

With each step she took, the hem of her dress swayed like spring flowers in a gentle breeze. As she came closer, her features grew more detailed, and her smile had a rather devastating effect.

“Deltain. I asked, how do I look?”

“… don’t ask.”

“Aren’t I pretty? My complexion has improved, so the makeup looks better, don’t you think?”

“Think about who you have to thank for that.”

“Thank you. For making me walk again, and for saying I’m pretty now.”

“I never said that.”

“But you didn’t deny it. So that means you agree.”

Agnes said this as she leaned closer to Deltain.

There was no scent of perfume from her.

“I was careful about the bath. You said you didn’t like perfume, so I didn’t use any.”

“… I didn’t ask.”

“Escort me.”

Agnes extended her hand.

“Like a gentleman.”

She spoke with a smile.

Deltain avoided her gaze, scolding himself for being swayed by such a simple change in appearance. Yet, his arm moved without hesitation.

A space formed for Agnes’ hand to rest on Deltain’s arm. Agnes placed her hand gently on his forearm.

In a voice tinged with laughter, Agnes said.

“Take care of me tonight.”

Deltain thought again.

Perhaps curing Agnes had been a mistake.

*

As was customary for imperial gatherings, today’s banquet was filled with renowned nobles who were rarely seen in public.

However, there was no commotion.

The voices of the small groups scattered throughout the hall were so quiet they seemed like whispers, hidden behind a mask of decorum and dignity.

Of course, this didn’t necessarily mean they were actually dignified people.

The ones Deltain called were busy sharing news about today’s banquet and gossiping about someone behind their back.

The only difference from usual was that their conversations, which would typically end after discussing the actions of someone from a certain household, seemed to continue without end.

“Did you hear? Princess Levadine is attending the banquet today.”

“I heard that Count Hebron himself was in charge of her treatment. Some say he might even come with her…”

“Is it true? We’re talking about Princess Levadine, who even the Church of Lastria was in awe of.”

“It’s not just about the princess. Think about Count Hebron. He’s not one to enjoy banquets, and he’s never brought a partner to one before, has he?”

The subjects of today’s gossip were Deltain and Agnes.

The entire banquet hall was abuzz with their story, not just that particular group.

It was inevitable. After all, the protagonists of the rumor were none other than an Arch Mage and everyone’s first love.

The two were among the top three most famous and mysterious people in the capital.

There was a peculiar tension in the air at the banquet, and it reached the ears of Cargo, a cardinal of the Church of Lastria.

‘So, he’s coming after all.’

Cargo was in the midst of indulging in all sorts of rich delicacies. Having suffered through days without food during the war, he had become weak in the face of gluttony, forcing himself to stuff down as much nourishment as possible.

‘The count is attending a banquet…’

Cargo felt a sudden chill.

It wasn’t just because he had a negative feeling for Deltain.

Having been at Deltain’s side during the war against the demons, Cargo knew that Deltain was not one to indulge in unnecessary pleasures.

‘Is something going on?’

The reason Deltain attended such a banquet was probably not just to escort Princess Levadine.

There was likely something that only he could do here.

As Cargo pondered, he finally came to a realization.

‘Ah, that’s right. The aristocratic faction has been causing trouble.’

At his level, certain political movements inevitably reached his ears.

If he remembered correctly, there had been talk of suspicious financial dealings among the nobles lately.

Deltain was clearly a supporter of the imperial family.

There was probably some deal between the emperor and Deltain that led him here.

Cargo had perfectly deduced the situation based on the available clues.

However, the course of action that Cargo thought of next was at odds with his otherwise sharp mind.

‘I’d better eat what I can and get out of here.’

Cargo had no desire to get entangled with Deltain, nor did he wish to get involved in the political affairs of the capital.

He was content with living a simple life, eating well and praying in the church.

It was during this moment of thought.

“Gasp!”

He heard a gasp. The sound came from multiple directions.

The shock, spreading like an epidemic, soon engulfed the entire banquet hall.

Cargo, puzzled, looked up.

… and he shouldn’t have done that.

“Cardinal!”

A warrior’s shout echoed throughout the hall. Simultaneously, a figure was burned into Cargo’s retina.

It was like a demon.

With ash-colored hair flowing wildly, muscles bulging to the point of bursting, and a body too monstrous to be called a woman, the creature in a pink dress was staring right at him.

The pink dress, which looked like something a 10-year-old girl might wear, seemed to be screaming for help, but Cargo had no mental capacity to worry about the dress’ plight.

Thud!

As she took a step, a shallow tremor shook the floor.

Cargo dropped the bread he was holding. His strength had left him.

Thud!

Once again, she took a step forward.

At that moment, Cargo was trembling, his jaw chattering uncontrollably.

Thud!

With another step, she suddenly closed the distance and was right in front of Cargo’s nose.

An inexplicable movement that crossed the hall in just three steps.

Should one call it the stride of a Lord-level knight, or perhaps the walk of a demon?

“It’s been a while!”

Cargo felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

“H-How…?”

“I came to see you!”

Masochist Kaltara. She grinned broadly in a barbaric way.

“I missed you!”

As Kaltara spread her arms, her muscles rippled. Her body showed no signs of fat.

Her pectoral muscles stretched vertically, forming long, muscular lines. As her shoulders pulled back, her latissimus dorsi spread out like a tower shield. The serratus anterior, biceps, triceps, and forearms—taut with strength—became visible.

It resembled the gaping maw of a wild beast.

Step.

Cargo tried to retreat, but Kaltara moved even faster.

Squeeze!

“Gaahh…!”

Caught in Kaltara’s embrace, Cargo opened his eyes wide as if they would pop out, making choking sounds.

His desperate struggle for survival was pitiful, but no one had the heart to save him.

Masochist Kaltara was a Lord-level knight. The first hound of Deltain Hebron. And a barbarian.

Even if the emperor himself came, there would be no rational way to pry her off Cargo.

‘D-Deltain!’

Cargo called for Deltain in his mind.

But there was no answer.

It was only natural. Deltain had yet to appear at the banquet hall.

At that moment, Kaltara whispered.

“I missed you. After my war ended, I met various men, but none of them could last more than three hours before collapsing.”

Shiver.

Cargo’s body trembled.

“I even tried a few priests, but they couldn’t endure for more than six hours, lacking the divine power you have.”

Kaltara’s breath was hot. Her chuckling was filled with sadistic pleasure.

“Don’t be afraid. Help me for just three days, and I won’t look for you for a while.”

As if grasping a treasure found after a long time, Kaltara took hold of Cargo’s plump butt.

“Nngh…!”

Cargo’s eyelashes fluttered. His eyes welled up like a deer caught by a predator.

Resignation was etched on his face.

‘L-Lastria…!’

Cardinal Saint Cargo.

He was captured by a demon for his gluttonous sins.

The sight of Cargo being carried out of the banquet hall by Kaltara, was pitiful, but no one there pitied him.

As Deltain had said, merely sparkled with interest at a new issue to gossip about.

*

Despite the commotion, the atmosphere of the banquet hall continued to thrive.

Those who had been talking only about Deltain and Agnes were now excited by the new topic.

The issue of the barbarian and the cardinal’s passionate encounter was an intriguing story for them.

Yes, indeed.

From a distance, other people’s misfortunes were often seen as a comedy.

No one cared about Cargo’s suffering.

And then it happened.

The atmosphere of the banquet hall suddenly changed.

[Count Deltain Hebron and Princess Agnes Levadine are entering!]

All eyes in the hall turned toward the closed door.

“The rumors…”

“So, they were true.”

As someone’s astonished voice rang out, the door slowly opened.

Through the gradually widening gap, two figures emerged.

In that instant.

“Ah…!”

Exclamations of admiration erupted from various corners of the hall.

Though the gasps were unrefined, no one in the room cast judgment on them.

It was only natural. Although they had suppressed their exclamations, everyone in the room shared the same sentiment.

Reverence for beauty, so overwhelming that even jealousy seemed futile.

The moment Agnes stepped into the banquet hall; all they could feel was that single emotion.

Agnes Levadine, everyone’s first love.

At the age of fifteen, she had already earned that title. Now, after a long absence, she reappeared, dazzlingly, dominating the banquet hall with her mere presence.

Click.

The sound of her heels echoed in the hall, where silence had fallen.

Her beauty, which had inspired awe even while she stood still, became even more vivid with movement, as if reality was being rewritten.

Someone sighed. It was a lament for not having brought a painter to capture the moment.

Each step she took was a marvel, and there was a deep regret that this fleeting vision would disappear like a dream.

Someone else shed tears. It was a noble who had spent a lifetime amassing gold and jewels in pursuit of beauty.

For the first time in his life, he realized the concept of beauty that could never be his.

No one dared to approach her.

No one could speak.

Amidst this, one person stepped forward.

“Agnes.”

It was a woman dressed in a luxurious white dress. Her hair was the same snowy white as the dress. Her purple eyes gleamed.

Her eyes crinkled softly as she smiled.

7th Princess Elina von Lebroch.

As she approached, Agnes’s movement ceased.

Elina took Agnes’s hand.

“I’m so glad we could meet at this banquet.”

If one were to interpret the meaning of the smile that appeared on Elina’s face, it would be this.

A smile filled with motherly affection.

This was the second time.

That Agnes had encountered madness.