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[Status Ailment]  
[The target's relevant stats have significantly decreased.]  
[Target – Power of Charm]  
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■Eron  
Level: 18 > 17  
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"Eron?"  
"...Yes?"  

Eron snapped back to reality at the sound of Rishir's voice.  

"Are you alright? You don’t look well—"  
"Oh, I'm fine. Just feeling a little tired, that's all. I was up late last night, working. I just need a bit of rest, and I'll be fine."  

But in truth, Eron was far from fine. What kept him together was his pride.  
Pride that wouldn’t let him show weakness in front of this inferior man.  

Eron sat back down, forcing a relaxed smile.  

'Has my power weakened...?'  

However, the growing panic he felt inside made that smile seem forced, unnatural compared to his usual demeanor.  

Panic often brings out one's true self.  
This was the first time Eron showed his real emotions in front of them.  

'Why? Is it... mana backlash?'  

Mana is like muscle—it grows through stimulation but can sometimes lead to injury.  

Such injuries are called "mana backlash."  

Eron's power of charm directly and indirectly interferes with a target's mind. It’s a delicate and complex ability, making it more prone to causing mana turbulence than typical magic.  

That said, it wasn’t inherently strange for charm magic to trigger a mana backlash.  
The issue lay with the target.  

'Because of... these amateurs?'  

Eron scanned the adventurers, including Marik and his group. None of them had even reached the second rank as adventurers. They were nothing more than rookies.  

Mana backlash because of them?  
It was like getting injured while roughhousing with children.  

'...'

Of course, things change when a third party intervenes.  

Eron glanced at Rishir out of the corner of his eye. He remembered that the backlash had occurred just when he attempted to use his charm on Rishir.  

Rishir was different from the others. He had declared himself a mage, and he might possess some knowledge and resistance to mental magic. His level was also notably higher compared to Marik’s group.  

'Third rank...'

Eron acknowledged that Rishir could have been the cause of the mana backlash. Though, how high was that likelihood?  

'Just barely. He’s only at the beginning of the third rank.'  
'And yet, he can’t even properly conceal his own power—'  

Eron knew types like Rishir all too well.  

'Nothing special about him.'  
'He’s probably one of those nobles who stumbled into third rank by sheer luck, just by leeching off his family's resources.'

It was common for the sons of noble families to reach the third rank before their coming-of-age ceremony, a fact many aristocrats took for granted.  
They claimed it was due to their noble bloodline, but Eron saw it differently.  

Nobles grow up in environments steeped in mana, receiving every possible advantage when it comes to magical education.  

They live surrounded by what the less fortunate would consider "opportunities."  
Failing to reach third rank under those circumstances would be the real oddity.  
And reaching it only upon adulthood?  

'A manufactured specialness.'

Eron had met many such nobles before, all of whom failed to break free of their mediocrity.  
He liked those kinds of nobles—those who possessed powers they didn’t truly earn were always easy prey.  

...And that’s why Eron was so confused now.  

'Did I really experience mana backlash... because of this kid?'  

It was a power that required proper recognition and response to counter.  
But this half-baked mage didn’t even seem aware of what had happened.  

Just as Eron was wrestling with his confusion, he felt a strong gaze.  
He turned to look, and there was Pien, sitting beside Rishir, watching him with a meaningful expression.  

Eron couldn’t fully understand the complex emotions in her gaze.  

- Ah.  
- I know that look.  
- That feeling.

How could he possibly know?  
That she, secretly a progenitor of immense power, had once tried something similar on Rishir and failed just as miserably.  
That there was an unspoken bond of shared frustration forming between them.  

But Pien's gaze, filled with empathy and solidarity, went unnoticed.  

- Fool.

All Eron felt from her was pure disdain.  

"...!"  

At that moment, a realization hit Eron like a thunderbolt.  

The discomfort he felt around Pien wasn’t a mistake. His assumptions were wrong.  
Pien wasn’t a helpless girl—she was hiding her power, and she was Rishir's protector.  
In fact, she must have been the one to cause the mana backlash.  

'Damn it, why am I only realizing this now—'

Eron cursed himself for catching on too late, for giving her the opening.  

'Did she figure out the true nature of my power and neutralize it?'  
'No. No, if she had, she would've attacked me by now.'  
'It’s probably some kind of defensive magic she cast on that brat, something to ward me off.'  

Or maybe... she was issuing a warning.  

Yes, a warning.  

As soon as he considered that, Eron felt a bit more at ease.  
If she was only issuing a warning, it meant she didn’t want to escalate things.  

She must have decided that it wasn’t worth the risk, either because the power gap wasn’t significant or because she recognized the unique nature of his charm magic.  

'A reasonable decision.'

The coachman.  
The adventurers.  
And that half-baked noble.  

Aside from Pien, everyone here was prey to his charm magic.  
If they were to fight, Pien would have to protect Rishir while dealing with all of them.  
The moment Rishir was hurt, Pien would lose. That’s what being a bodyguard was all about.  

'As long as that burden named Rishir is here, I hold the advantage.'

Finally, Eron came to a conclusion.  

'I need to act first.'  

If he gave Pien any more time, she’d surely move Rishir to safety and then focus on eliminating him.  
He couldn’t allow that to happen.  

Eron formulated a plan:  
'Drain the adventurers’ strength, then use the full force of my charm on Rishir.'  

He didn't like it.  
The thought of using his charm power to its fullest on a filthy man disgusted him.  

But—  

"..."

If it meant breaking that sneaky woman’s pride, he would endure it.  

'Go ahead, enjoy yourselves for now...'

Eron consoled himself by imagining Pien’s despair when she realized she couldn’t protect Rishir.  

As night fell, the carriage came to a stop for the night, and the adventurers began setting up camp.  
For them, rest was the most critical part of the journey, as it would affect their performance the next day.  

"Please, the three of you should relax. We’ll take care of the camp setup."  

Marik and his group excluded Rishir, Pien, and Eron from the division of labor, as was customary when dealing with those of higher status.  

"Is there anything I can help with?" Rishir asked as he approached Marik’s group.  

"...?"  
"...?"  
"...?"

The adventurers all looked at him, bewildered.  
Did they hear that right?  

The words themselves weren’t strange, but the tone—  
Help, offered with the tone of a noble?  
They’d seen many things in their time as adventurers, but this was a first.  

"Excuse me? Did you say... help?" Marik stammered, unable to process it.  

"I figured if I helped, we could finish the work faster."  

Dear gods. He hadn’t misheard.  

"No, no, you really don’t have to. This is our job, Sir Rishir—just relax and leave it to us."  

Marik couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly.  
Was this kindness? Was it informality? Or was it sheer naivety?  

Rishir, the young and kind-hearted noble, clearly didn’t realize how out of place his offer was.  
While they appreciated the gesture, it was also a bit uncomfortable.  

They couldn’t imagine having a noble assist them with menial tasks, no matter how well-meaning.  

"I just thought it might be good to learn something new," Rishir said.  

"...What?"  

A noble wanting to *learn* from adventurers?  
There was indeed a rare specimen among them.  

What Rishir truly cared about was one thing alone:  
Succeeding in this fantasy world and living well.  

The magic he studied was just one of many tools toward that goal.  
The more tools, the better.  

Marik and his group exchanged bewildered glances, but they couldn't help feeling impressed.  

"Ah... Alright then, Sir Rishir. If you're really interested, come with me. I'll explain why we picked this spot for camp."  

Rishir’s genuine curiosity and respect for their knowledge softened Marik’s attitude. And soon enough, the adventurers began eagerly sharing their camping techniques with him.  

Not long after, Eron awkwardly approached them, trying to insert himself into the conversation.  

"I’d like to learn about camping too,

 if that’s alright."  

"Of course, come on over!" Marik replied, but his earlier enthusiasm had dimmed.  

"..."

Eron, with his charm and beauty, was met with indifference, a stark contrast to the warm reception Rishir received.  

The succubus-like being, who had always entranced people with ease, now found himself humiliated and confused.  

That night, after dinner, the conversation turned to who would take the night watch. Rishir immediately volunteered.  

"I’ll do it!"  

"No! Please, Sir Rishir, don't!"  

Marik and his group, now thoroughly enamored with Rishir, practically shouted their refusal.  

Rishir was determined to get some hands-on experience, and despite their protests, he took the first watch.  

Eron, always watching for an opportunity, raised his hand.  

"I’ll take the next shift."  

This time, Marik’s response was lukewarm.  

"...Alright then, sure."  

And so, night finally fell. The moment Eron had been waiting for arrived.

---

The hours passed slowly as Rishir sat on watch, staring out into the pitch-black fields, his thoughts wandering back to his sister, Roera.  

In their last encounter, she had displayed a fierce determination to surpass him.  

- Next time we meet, you'll want to call me *noona*, you’ll see!  
- So don't get hurt before then... Take care of yourself...  
- Big brother...  

Even now, the memory of her competitive spirit brought a smile to his face.  

He missed his sister, as she had missed him in their parting.  

- When will I stop worrying about you, huh?  

He sighed, rubbing his chest where the bruise from her punch still lingered.  

"Still hurts..."  

As Rishir reminisced, lost in thought, he suddenly sensed movement behind him.  

"How’s it going?"  

The voice was familiar, yet oddly unsettling.  

"Eron?"  

As the figure approached, emerging from the shadows, Rishir’s eyes widened in confusion.  

Eron... was naked.  

Her body, unmistakably feminine, glowed under the moonlight, her flawless bronzed skin reflecting the faint light.  

"Want to do something fun?"  

Eron’s lips curled into a seductive smile as the shadows behind her flickered, moving like a tail.