Chapter 15: A Heart-Pounding Miscalculation

“Did you have to aim there?”

“What are you on about, benefactor? You told me to aim there, didn’t you?”

“You’re the one who fired, you crazy dwarf! I clearly aimed for their legs!”

“Well, sure, legs. The problem is, it was their third leg.”

As I grilled Stroheim about the recent disaster, he responded in a nonchalant tone.

“Think about it, benefactor. I may have lost mine, but I’m still a man. I know the pain of loss better than anyone—how could I do something so cruel?”

“You seemed to be laughing pretty heartily for someone who knows that pain.”

“No, no, that’s just your imagination. It was a simple misaim, nothing more.”

“That misaim was the biggest mistake, you lunatic!”

As the beastmen howled and chased us, I’d fought with the goal of “subduing.”

I’m not some psychopath who gets a thrill from killing or takes joy in others’ suffering.

So I used the easiest method to make them abandon pursuit: robbing them of mobility.

“I never imagined you’d blast their groins with white phosphorus.”

It hurt just watching.

Their cries of agony as their groins burned were so heart-wrenching that even I, while fleeing, shed a few tears from the shared sorrow.

…This wicked dwarf.

Just because he’s castrated doesn’t mean he had to torch everyone else’s equipment so ruthlessly.

Shaking my head, thinking he’s as mad as the protagonist, the dwarf patted my back with a smirk.

“It’s fine.”

“What is?”

“They’ve lost something precious, so now they’ll rise to the top of a field, like me. Yes, they’ll become pioneers!”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t call me a eunuch—I’m a pioneer! Losing one of the three primal desires is a massive boost to achievement. You wouldn’t understand… Argh!”

I slammed his side for his mind-boggling nonsense, and the dwarf shuddered before slumping over.

Finally free from that apocalyptic conversation.

Sighing in relief, Carl closed the distance and asked.

“Got a plan for what’s next? What do we do after escaping the Great Forest?”

“I’m thinking north or west. Central’s too expensive, and the east… you know why without me saying.”

“True, the east is harsh for a witch. Hmm… my party’s also eyeing the north or west. How about traveling together this time?”

“No thanks. I’d rather not stick with you guys. If it’s between traveling with you or going solo, I’d take the dangerous solo route.”

It’s a universal rule in any novel: protagonists attract trouble.

Whether they’re weaklings or crazed psychopaths, they always stumble into incidents.

Look at this—barely a day in the Great Forest, and he’s already caused this much chaos.

All I want is a quiet, peaceful life.

That’s why I can’t afford to get tangled up with the protagonist’s party.

Especially since they don’t just run into trouble—they seek it out. What good would come from joining them?

“But, Carl, now’s not the time for carefree thoughts.”

“…?”

“We haven’t escaped the Great Forest yet. And where I come from, there’s a saying.”

It ain’t over till it’s over.

BOOM!

As I muttered, a mana bolt hit Carl from behind, sending him rolling across the ground.

“Urk…!”

True to his protagonist status, he sprang up quickly, but dozens of elves and beastmen were already in front of him.

He groaned, eyeing them.

“They’re swarming like roaches. Now I get why the Southern Great Forest is called a forbidden zone.”

“Forbidden zone? Where else could you find a paradise like this? All you do is eat and sate your lust.”

“…That does have its appeal. But.”

Carl suddenly grabbed my shoulder, pulled me close, and stood me in front of him. Facing the elves and beastmen, he boldly declared his stance.

“I started this journey to find a bride. Not to stick my junk in just anyone.”

“An orgy? Sure, that’s tempting. But I prefer a one-on-one connection, sharing emotions in pure love.”

“If it’s absolutely unavoidable, I’d consider an orgy…”

Gently placing a hand on my head, he flashed a charming, protagonist-worthy smile.

“But right now, I have no intention of getting involved with other women. Because I’ve already found the perfect bride.”

…Huh?

I stared at the protagonist with a dumbfounded expression.

Why did they include Beatrice, a woman, in a party full of grimy, rough men?

I’d wondered about this for a long time.

Throughout the novel’s early and mid-stages, other female supporting characters appeared, so why was Beatrice the only one added to the protagonist’s party?

There were plenty of characters who meshed better with the group—why accept someone as ill-fitting as her?

No matter how much I pondered, I couldn’t find an answer, even donating to the author to ask.

[/ (insert generic newbie author secrecy emoji) / Look forward to the second half!]

The author stayed silent, only telling me to see for myself later.

I was curious.

How would the author use Beatrice?

Could a weak, loser witch like her actually be useful to the party?

That question lingered even after I possessed her body, but today, I finally found the answer.

“Fuck.”

I clutched my forehead, muttering under my breath.

“Fuck.”

Looking at the sky through the trees, I let out a hollow laugh.

“FUCK!!!”

With a final, full-throated scream, I collapsed on the spot.

Spitting out curses felt so good that all I could do was laugh.

I thought I was just a side character, but what’s that?

Don’t make me laugh—this has to be the protagonist joking.

That possibility-obsessed nut must be scheming something!

In the original story, he was as far from “pure love” as you could get.

He saw a harpy and wondered if banging her cloaca would let him enjoy both holes at once.

He met a medusa and cheered about the possibility of a hairjob.

He even saw a satyr and praised its fluffy fur, showing furry tendencies.

In short, the original Fasible lived up to his name, “Possible,” in his quest for a “bride.”

So why would this maniac, who finds everything possible, suddenly confess to me?

Sure, my body’s pretty.

Jet-black hair and eyes like the night sky.
A sizable “strength pouch” I can be proud of.
A curvy figure with all the right proportions.

Beatrice was beautiful enough to be called a beauty anywhere.

But based on Carl’s actions in the original, she wasn’t attractive enough to catch his eye.

She was… too ordinarily beautiful.

If anything, she’d rank lower on his confession priority than the wolf beastman in front of us.

That’s why this situation felt so alien and shocking.

No, honestly, it’d be weirder not to be shocked!

From my perspective, it’s like getting confessed to by a guy!

That alone was enough, but unfortunately, something even more shocking awaited.

Thump.

For a single moment, my heart raced when he confessed.

Let me be clear: I wasn’t flustered. I’m not gay.

It was just Beatrice’s body reacting to the confession.

But—

“This is dangerous.”

That single heartbeat felt like a massive warning signal.

“Female corruption…?”

The survival arc is over, the escape is nearing its end, and now we’re heading into female corruption?

Crunch!

Grinding my teeth, I began cursing the author.

“You think I’ll let this story go your way?”

Sure, I’ve faced countless injustices since possessing this body.

I had no way to counter the story’s flow, so I just took the hits.

But emotions? Those I’m confident I can control.

Don’t mess with me, author.

I’m a lone male wolf heading back to Earth.

I’m not falling for some female corruption arc, moaning under this lunatic.

Never.

With that firm resolve, I stood up.

The elves and beastmen were still facing off with Carl.

…Though something was a bit different.

“Sister, did you hear? That guy loves pure love*! Heehee…”

“Calis? I’m so heated I can’t hold back anymore. Stealing someone’s lover… isn’t that the ultimate delicacy?”

The elves, drenched in lust, looked ready to pounce.

Staring blankly at the scene, I asked the priestess, who wore the same stunned expression.

“Got any spells good for handling non-virgins?”

She sighed deeply and shook her head.

“As if such a thing exists.”

…We’re in deep trouble.