How to Save a Time-Limited Heroine

Agnes woke up the next day.

Though still somewhat lethargic, she felt light and clear-headed. The usual sense of suffocation had also somewhat lifted.

Agnes realized it immediately.

‘It worked.’

Deltain had succeeded once again.

Agnes smirked. She regretted not being able to see the expression he must have made after the surgery, but she still felt a sense of satisfaction.

Just then, she sensed someone nearby and turned her head toward the movement she felt.

“Deltain?”

There, she saw Deltain asleep, arms crossed, on a narrow mat that barely deserved to be called a bed.

It didn’t take long to figure out why he was there. Glowing runes made of mana floated above her arm.

‘He was treating me.’

Of course, there would be no lingering side effects. It was just like him to be so responsible.

Agnes looked at Deltain’s face again and then burst out laughing softly.

It wasn’t for any particular reason. Even in his sleep, Deltain was frowning, as if something displeased him.

Agnes twitched her fingers, then slowly got up. She reached out and poked Deltain’s forehead with her index finger.

His frown deepened.

“Pfft…”

Agnes laughed even louder.

“… don’t call me. Handle it yourselves.”

A drowsy voice murmured.

He was talking in his sleep.

Agnes laid on her stomach on the bed, resting her chin in her hands, and listened to Deltain’s sleep talk.

Most of it was mumbled, but one word was clear.

“Resident… if you do it like that… just quit…”

Agnes tried to piece together the fragmented words.

It was something like this.

He was telling someone named to quit if he were going to do it that way.

Agnes felt a twinge of curiosity.

‘Who?’

Who was Resident? What was his gender, his age, and what was his relationship with him?

She also wondered where and when the <17th surgical operation> he had mentioned before entering the surgery took place.

‘You have so many secrets.’

Deltain had so many secrets. Other than being a fallen noble with no title who appeared when demons emerged, even the Emperor of the Imperial Palace knew little about him.

Agnes, suddenly filled with curiosity, stared at Deltain and softly murmured.

“How did you grow up?”

How was his childhood? Who did he spend it with? What was his family like, and when was the moment he decided to learn magic?

In truth, these were questions she didn’t need answers to. Yet, she couldn’t shake off her curiosity.

She had to admit that she felt uneasy about not knowing Deltain.

‘… I just don’t like uncertainties.’

Of course, that was her way of rationalizing it.

Suddenly.

“…!”

Deltain’s eyes snapped open. His gaze met Agnes’.

As Deltain’s eyes grew clearer, wiping away the lingering drowsiness, Agnes gave a gentle smile.

“Did you sleep well?”

“… what are you—”

“Oh, right.”

Agnes released her chin from her hand and leaned in. Then she gave him a quick peck on the forehead.

As Deltain, still groggy, wore a blank expression, Agnes spoke.

“A good morning kiss. How is it? Does it make your heart flutter?”

Deltain blinked. It took him about three seconds to grasp the situation.

His face flushed red like a heated pan, and he growled as his body trembled.

“… you’re causing trouble as soon as I wake up.”

Agnes burst into laughter.

*

After Agnes woke up, the duke’s mansion became a whirlwind of activity.

Deltain spent the entire day eating only a sandwich as he checked on Agnes’ condition, while Duke Levadine anxiously watched him, tears welling up at his daughter’s smile.

The servants of the mansion were busy overturning the entire place in preparation for Agnes’ walking practice scheduled for the next day.

“Learning to walk at 20 feels strange. It’s not like I don’t know how to walk.”

“You may know it in your head, but your body won’t remember. Your muscles must have atrophied after not walking for several years.”

“If that’s the case, one day of walking practice won’t be enough.”

“We’ll combine magic and divine healing. It should be enough to walk a bit at the banquet.”

As Deltain spoke, he began erasing the mana runes he had inscribed on Agnes’ arm one by one.

Duke Levadine still looked anxious. Deltain smirked and said.

“There won’t be any side effects. We can proceed as planned.”

“Oh…!”

“Have you arranged for a priest?”

“Yes, fortunately, the Cardinal himself has agreed to come.”

“Oh, you must have made quite a generous donation.”

The Empire’s national religion, Lastria, was known for sending priests in proportion to the donations received, which was hardly fitting for a religious institution.

There were various reasons for this, but they weren’t relevant at the moment. The point was that a Cardinal was someone Deltain would have to donate a large amount to bring.

Duke Levadine chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s for my daughter’s health.”

“Thank you, Father.”

When Agnes smiled pitifully, Deltain’s expression turned disdainful.

‘Why does she act all sweet to her father yet so difficult with me?’

It was inevitable that such thoughts would come to mind.

Agnes blinked, as if to ask what was wrong, at the look in Deltain’s eyes. Like she was innocent.

Deltain chuckled dryly and spoke to the duke.

“… anyway, I understand the Cardinal is coming. Please prepare all meals tomorrow filled with mana. The concentration should be at least 50%.”

“Mana cuisines? But that…”

“It’s fine. Ah, and from now on, all the meals the Princess eats should be in mana cuisine.”

Deltain pointed a finger toward Agnes’s chest. He was indicating the .

“It consumes a lot of energy.”

“But regarding her health…”

“It’s fine. The mana she consumes will all be absorbed by that.”

A flush of color appeared on Duke Levadine’s face.

It was no wonder. Mana cuisines were like poison to Agnes, who had one of the worst levels of mana sensitivity.

Because of this, the duke had always excluded mana cuisines from her meals and felt guilty in his heart for not being able to give Agnes delicious food.

“This is great! I’ve always thought of my daughter whenever I saw refreshments at banquets…!”

“Father, really.”

Agnes laughed, covering her mouth.

Deltain suddenly had another thought as he watched her.

‘Maybe I should only examine her in front of the duke from now on.’

It didn’t seem like a bad idea.

*

The next day, a sedan drove into the duke’s residence.

It wasn’t just any sedan. It was a top-of-the-line model, glowing white even when still, with gold lines that accentuated its streamlined body, making it shone even more brilliantly.

This was one of only seven sedans on the continent, handcrafted by Deltain and dedicated to the Church of Lastria.

Inside, a middle-aged man, so obese that his flesh wobbled, was wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“So, Count Hebron is here?”

“Yes.”

“Oh dear, what kind of absurdity has he caused this time…?”

The middle-aged man sighed with worry, which didn’t match his toad-like appearance.

Not many people could speak to Deltain like this, but he was an exception.

He was Saint Cargo, one of the six Cardinals of Lastria.

Three years ago, during the war, Deltain had dragged him around as a substitute for a healing pack. He was a war hero.

“We’ve arrived.”

At those words, Cargo’s face turned ashen. He wanted to run away, but the Pope’s orders had already been given.

Cargo sighed deeply as he stepped out of the sedan.

“You pig, you’ve gotten even fatter.”

The moment he stepped out, a voice insulted him.

Cargo flinched.

“C-Count Hebron! Long time no see!”

Cargo smiled brightly, like a puppy meeting its owner.

One might call it servile, but what could he do? He was that afraid of Deltain.

It was natural, considering Deltain had once collared him and dragged him into the middle of a horde of demons during the war against them.

Cargo still had nightmares of being dragged through the demons.

Deltain stood crookedly with his hands in his pockets, speaking in an irritated tone.

“Long time no see, my foot. Didn’t I tell you to manage your weight? You’ll drop dead from a disease if you keep this up.”

“A disease… but, you see, I am blessed by the God…”

“Not God, but by fat.”

Cargo flinched, causing his belly to jiggle.

Deltain clicked his tongue.

Deltain, who usually wasn’t interested in others, cared about him for one reason.

‘There’s no one else to use as a healing pack.’

Cargo was classified as an S-rank mercenary in the game.

Though he was part of the Church and couldn’t be recruited as a hunting dog, Saint Cargo was the most exceptional healer Deltain knew, so he had to keep him alive and well as long as he was in this world.

“I’m giving you a month to lose weight.”

“What do you mean…?”

“I’ll need to take you somewhere soon. It might be to the north or east.”

Despair crossed Cargo’s face.

He rushed over to Deltain, speaking in a pleading voice.

“A-a deployment! Listen, Count! I’m a Cardinal now! I have a busy schedule!”

“Think about who got you that Cardinal position. Then answer me again.”

“…”

Cargo was at a loss for words.

In fact, the Cardinal position had been attained thanks to the merits he earned while being dragged around by Deltain during the war against the demons.

Deltain watched as Cargo slumped to his knees and then lightly tapped his belly with his foot.

“Just be ready for that. Today, we have other matters.”

Cargo began to resent Deltain.

Forcing his heavy body to stay on the ground might have been his maximum form of resistance.

Of course, that resistance didn’t last long.

Deltain raised an eyebrow and spoke to Cargo.

“I called Kaltara, and she’ll be here soon. Want to say hello?”

“Eek!”

Cargo jumped to his feet.

His face was like that of a frightened lamb.

Masochist Kaltara. She was one of Cargo’s nightmares.

She was as much of a monster as Deltain… if not more, as she had also dragged Cargo around as a healing pack.

And it wasn’t just treating him like a healing pack. She would deliberately expose her head to enemies and force him to heal her, or she would rip out her own heart and throw it to demons, forcing him to regenerate a new one—she did such things almost daily.

That alone made him sick, but the worst was something else.

– “Ohoho! You’re quite something!”

Nighttime activities.

Whenever Kaltara’s sexual desires surged, Cargo was used as a sexual object until she was satisfied.

If he lost strength, she would heal him just to make him go again. If he didn’t, she’d use her .

Cargo’s eyes welled up as he looked at Deltain.

“No, whatever it is, let’s go quickly! As fast as possible! I’ll lose weight and heal and everything!”

Deltain thought as he looked at the terrified Cargo.

‘His performance is definitely top-notch.’

In fact, Kaltara wasn’t coming.