"Are you sent by God to save me?" Bud raised his head and looked at the black-robed girl in front of him.

"But why not save my friend?"

"Why, why does the hero always appear last in a story?"

"Aren't you a hero? Why can't you save everyone!"

He seemed to be questioning Loran Hill, but also seemed to be venting his own anger, anger at his own cowardice and incompetence.

Although the teenager may not have really asked himself, Loran Hill gave an answer anyway.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not a hero and I can't save everyone."

"Or rather, expecting heroes to save everything is a very sad thing."

In various legends, people are always happy to hear about a brave man or hero who stands up, defeats the evil villain, and saves everything. They pin their hopes and wishes on others, while being content with the status quo and not daring to change.

Loran Hill stood at the bridge, quietly listening to the boy's narration about the short life of his good friend Gretel.

“Why keep waiting instead of stepping up on your own?”

Looking at the cowardly boy, Loran Hill spoke again, just like he did in the alley outside the restaurant that day.

"Why do people always pin their hopes on others? They would rather pray to empty gods, hide in a corner and feel sorry for themselves, waiting for a lucky encounter, than take a step forward themselves."

"When will you become your own hero?"

Under the cold moonlight, the girl took off her hood, her silver hair fluttering in the air, and her bright red, transparent eyes stared directly at the shocked boy.