“If you want me to, Joey, I’ll murder the bitch,” Camilla says with contempt.

“We could put her in an oven and slowly raise the temperature,” Flaminia suggests.

I have one girl per side, and they act as my moral support. Or as my killer mercenaries, as things currently stand.

If there is one thing I always loved about girls, it’s the kind of free hate they can dispense at a moment’s notice. Men are more honest and too dull to appreciate this quality. See, when a woman breaks up with someone, it doesn’t really matter who the man is; that’s because her friends will tear him apart with words. Females are weird packs. They often stab each other, but they can also be nastier than anyone else when it comes to protecting one of their own.

While men say stuff like ‘yeah, dude, now you can bang that other chick!’, women are more like ‘that piece of garbage is a waste of space and oxygen. He’s a complete failure, a useless human being who should not be allowed to live—no, who shouldn’t be allowed to exist!’

And that’s the first part of an entire novel women write about their friends’ exes.

“I bet she likes to perform scandalous acts in public while stuffing her mouth with raw steaks, with meat juices trickling down to her dirty—”

Flaminia and I look at a stream of terrifying profanities coming out of Camilla’s mouth. Not even the filthiest sailor could conjure the images that Camilla’s ingraining in my mind now.

After an hour, I’m feeling much better.

Stan sent a couple of people to fetch the two girls and, apparently, explained what had gone down. He glossed over the details of me having world-changing magic, but he gave them a pretty good picture.

Lucinda had left.

And now, I’m single again.

Single.

It’s usually a refreshing feeling, you know?

It doesn’t matter if you are coming out of a long or a short relationship; when you break up with someone, a part of you is relieved. Why? Well, because you have new opportunities, obviously. Why wouldn’t you be at least a little excited? It doesn’t make sense that you wouldn’t be. But now, see, it’s different.

I’m not really looking forward to my future.

Not that much.

Why?

Well, I got screwed over.

But on the other hand, don’t we always risk getting screwed over?

Like, what’s the alternative?

I laugh to myself while the others look at me, uncomprehending.

It’s nice.

It’s nice having friends.

It’s nice being in a fantasy world where my main worry is someone breaking my heart. And not my neck.

It’s nice knowing that these people care, that they all came here, ignored their work, and just keep me warm. I don’t care about relics, about levels, about adventures, and all of that mumbo-jumbo. No, I care about these people, about my love life, about my relationships.

“Thank you for being here,” I tell both with just a little bit of tears in my eyes.

I’m moved, what can I say?

They start outright bawling when they see me like that.

You know, you wouldn’t imagine these two crying. I mean, Camilla is crazy. Like, batshit crazy. Flaminia is very business-like and mature.

But we are all having a good ol’ cry-out while our noses run, and we hug.

Yeah, that’s pretty much how it goes.

It might sound strange that people do this, but if you have ever been around enough women, there are always some that behave like this.

It’s about the moment.

See, women are all about moments.

The next day, they might hate each other for whatever reason, but they have moments that men rarely have.

Why is that?

Men are averse to certain displays of affection. Women are not.

Also, men are much less emotional, on average.

So, while we have a good cry, as you do, I thank God I ended up with good friends. Yeah, I know, I’m repeating myself. But I feel there’s a time when you have to repeat yourself a little.

Because this is no time for swords, Dragons, or [Heroes], this is a time for one of those moments when you cry, and you cry. And that’s pretty much it. Then you have some comfort food, watch a nice soapy film or read a Russian book. Russian books are good for everything, whether curing a heartbreak or planning a vengeful homicide.

…

See, this is how I like to think my story had begun.

Crying a little over a broken heart.

Not with the book. Not with discovering my talent.

Nah.

It’s about the little things.

The casual things.

I like casual.

I don’t like legendary.

And I like how I spent the next two months simply baking.

Yeah, sure, I also practiced my Cantrips. Mostly because I didn’t want to be zapped to death.

I taught Clodia and Camilla five recipes each. But that’s another story. We’ll talk about that in the future. For now, we have seen enough baking.

What I did not expect to see, instead, was heroing.

Not ‘heroing’ as in ‘injecting heroine,’ obviously. That’s a good dad joke; jot it down.

But yeah, I spent two months just working a little, hanging out with the girls, with Lucillus and Antoninus, and managing this golden goose.

Some people have started copying my recipes, but I have the name. Home-Bakery is where you want to be when you and your adventurer friends need some comfort food.

Because yes, even adventurers need comfort food.

And when the most famous Silver ranked team is close with you, who would try to mess with you?

And you can sit outside or make friends with the weird Human who owns the place. Oh yeah, by the way, Stan made me buy a whole lot of houses around here. I don’t know how much money we have, but my Stanimal seems to think they are enough to Donald Trump our way through this neighborhood.

Now, I said I wasn’t expecting any ‘heroing,’ right?

Yeah.

I wasn’t.

And I am not ready.

But you know what?

Right when you think that everything is going smoothly and that your life is finally something not worth a note, goddamn Lady Luck – guess what – dumps a massive headache in my lap.

Shoot.