Just as Riku was contemplating the absurdities of his newfound charm, a familiar, intrusive blue screen materialized in his vision, cutting through the chaotic sounds of the village.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
The message was brief, yet it offered a sliver of hope, however small: Gambler could decrease the effects, but only to a certain limit. Below the text, a shimmering bar appeared, glowing faintly. It represented the intensity of the "Aura of Irresistible Charm." Without hesitation, Riku's finger shot out, dragging the slider all the way to the left, reducing the effect to its absolute minimum. He then stabbed the 'OK' button with a desperate urgency.
The screen shimmered again, morphing to display a confirmation.
[Charm reduced to minimum. Riku will only seem handsome from now on. The charm will have no effect on boys. Even female enemies can hunt him down easily now, if they aren't lusty or don't care about someone's looks.]
[Note: This setting cannot be readjusted.]
Riku stared at the final message, a profound sense of exasperation washing over him. This was the worst.
He was just handsome. Nothing else. No magical persuasion, no automatic trust, just the empty aesthetic of beauty. It was a cosmic joke, a permanent, utterly useless vanity trait that only added another layer of absurdity to his already impossible life. He had wanted utility, power, anything practical. He got a cursed beauty pageant sash.
"The worst," Riku muttered under his breath, a weary sigh escaping him.
Levi, who had been observing Riku's sudden stillness and the blank stare into thin air, caught the mumbled complaint. His brow furrowed in confusion. "The worst?" Levi echoed, his voice gruff, stepping closer. "What's the worst, Dola?"
Riku merely shook his head, offering no explanation. He couldn't. How could he explain a System that gave him unwanted charm, only to let him dial it down to a useless minimum? It was a private humiliation, a bizarre consequence of a hidden war.
He turned and began walking towards the makeshift living quarters. Igris, ever his silent shadow, started to follow, but Riku paused. "Igris," he said, his voice flat. "Help the villagers. They still need hands setting up the outer perimeter defenses." Igris shimmered once, a silent acknowledgment, and then dissolved into the background, merging with the busy crowd.
Riku pushed open the flap of his newly erected tent. It was a simple, stark space – a bedroll on the ground, a small chest for his meager belongings. He sat down heavily, the soft mattress a small comfort against the exhaustion that weighed on him. He felt… sad.
The immediate crisis was over. The village was safe. His people were here. The impossible had been done. But the sense of victory was hollow, tainted by the relentless, invasive nature of the System, and by the memory of Serabil. He ran a hand through his hair, the phantom sensation of her weight on him, her words of adoration, still clinging to his skin. He had played the part. He had won. But at what cost?
He still hadn't found Schwi. His ultimate goal, the driving force behind his every impossible gamble, remained elusive. And even if he found her, if he found the Ex Machina he remembered, she wouldn't remember him. She wouldn't remember their bond, their shared journey, their promise. He was carrying a ghost of a past, a love that existed only in his shattered memories, while the world demanded he forge a new, grotesque reality.
3 DAYS LATER
The initial, frantic burst of efficiency that marked the village's resettlement slowly gave way to the inevitable friction of communal living. Tensions, buried under the immediate threat of survival, began to surface. Kaito, usually a beacon of calm, found himself locking horns with Rylan over the best placement for the new livestock pens, their voices rising in heated debate.
Oboro's meticulous water distribution system was challenged by a faction arguing for more direct access to the stream, leading to hushed, angry whispers. Even among the children, minor squabbles over limited play space escalated into tearful confrontations. The honeymoon phase of survival was over; the messy reality of building a society had begun.
Riku observed it all from a distance, the murmurs of discontent reaching him even in his tent. He understood. People were tired, stressed. they needed a sense of belonging, and a collective spirit to solidify their new home. He needed to knit them together before the fabric of their fledgling community unraveled.
Some days later, Riku orchestrated a village-wide festival. It was a simple affair: a large bonfire, shared rations cooked into a communal stew, and makeshift instruments providing a lively, if slightly off-key, rhythm. His goal was to boost morale, to foster a sense of community, and to remind everyone of their shared triumph. He hadn't accounted for his own unintended role in the festivities.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing, the village began to come alive with laughter and the warmth of shared camaraderie. Riku, despite his usual stoicism, found himself smiling. This was what they fought for.
He moved through the crowd, offering quiet words of encouragement, observing the genuine smiles on his people's faces. But everywhere he went, he felt it – the lingering effect of the 'Handsome' Burden. Eyes would subtly track him. Conversations would falter as he passed. And the
Girls… it was particularly pronounced with the girls.
Actually, they were dying to talk to him, but were scared of him, of his angry outbursts.
He tried to keep moving, but it was like wading through treacle. A group of younger women, ostensibly gathering firewood, seemed to always be where he was. Their laughter would turn into hushed giggles as he approached, their eyes lingering on his face, his frame. One young woman, barely out of her teens, tripped accidentally into his path, her hand brushing his chest as he steadied her.
"Oh, Riku! I'm so sorry!" she breathed, her cheeks blooming crimson, her gaze fixed on him with a mixture of embarrassment and blatant adoration. "You're... you're so strong!"
Riku gritted his teeth. "Watch where you're going," riku scolded her
But it seemed to have the opposite effect. Her eyes widened, a shy smile touching her lips.
Seeing that the village girl was easily able to came so close to him and get away easily, others also thought of trying their luck.
Later, as the music grew louder and people started dancing, the situation devolved further. Riku, attempting to blend into the shadows by the edge of the clearing, found himself cornered.
"Riku, would you honor me with a dance?" the scout, Elara, asked, her eyes glittering with open invitation.
"No thanks."
Riku felt a migraine forming. He had to escape. He saw Levi, Ichinose, and Erina watching from a distance, their faces a mix of amusement and something else… something he couldn't quite decipher.
Eventually, Riku made his way to his usual inner circle, seeking refuge.
"Having fun, Riku?" Erina teased, her eyes sparkling, a hint of something more in their depths.
"This is not fun," Riku grumbled, rubbing his temples. "This is... an existential crisis in a crowded space. I feel like I'm being hunted by an army of lovesick puppies."
Ichinose, usually so composed, chuckled. "Well, you are rather striking, Riku. Especially tonight." Her gaze, too, seemed to linger on his features, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. He noticed a subtle, almost imperceptible tension between her and Erina, a silent exchange of glances whenever he spoke or moved. They were trying to help, he knew, but they seemed to be fighting their own internal battles with the 'aura' too.
"Striking is one thing," Levi interjected, stepping closer, his presence a welcome, if slightly overbearing, shield. "Having people practically throw themselves at you is another. Dola, you need to develop a better 'leave-me-alone' aura." He then frowned, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd. "Though I'll admit, their enthusiasm is... concerning. A bit much." He seemed to be fighting something himself, a slight stiffness in his posture, an odd intensity in his gaze whenever another woman got too close to Riku.
"I tried to be cold!" Riku lamented, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "It just makes them more... eager!"
"Perhaps your definition of 'cold' is simply 'alluringly distant' to them now," Ichinose mused, a thoughtful, almost academic air about her, even as her eyes gleamed.
"This is absurd," Riku sighed. "I can't even move without causing a minor international incident. How am I supposed to lead a village, much less fight a war, if I'm constantly fending off unwanted advances?"
Levi grunted. "Well, that's what we're here for. We'll form a 'Riku Protection Squad'. Our job will be to glare menacingly at anyone who gets too close." He puffed out his chest, but then his eyes met Erina's and Ichinose's. A flicker of something, competition perhaps, crossed their faces.
"Oh, no, Levi," Erina said, a playful challenge in her voice. "I think Riku needs a gentler approach to his admirers. Maybe someone to subtly redirect their affections, to manage the queue, so to speak." She gave Riku a warm, almost possessive smile.
Ichinose's eyes sharpened. "I believe Riku would prefer a more organized, administrative approach to this... unique problem. Someone to filter requests, manage his schedule for 'adoration appointments'." She offered Riku a cool, efficient smile, subtly cutting out Erina.
Riku stared at them, his two closest female allies. They were ganging up on Levi, yes, but they were also, unmistakably, subtly competing for his attention, for the right to "protect" him. The 'Handsome Burden' wasn't just affecting the villagers; it was seeping into his inner circle.
Levi, usually the epitome of pragmatic stoicism, seemed to be the most sane person right now.
Erina and Ichinose exchanged a look, then both smiled at Riku, completely ignoring Levi. "Don't worry, Riku," Erina said sweetly. "We'll protect you."
"Indeed," Ichinose added, her voice smooth as silk. "From anything... distracting."