The forest of Eudor was no welcoming place for a man accustomed to working under the shade of concrete. Raga crept through the thorny bushes, while Princess Naria followed close behind with a gait that, despite her exhaustion, still looked infinitely more graceful than Raga's awkward, limping-duck stride.

"How much further do we have to walk?" Raga complained for the hundredth time, brushing dust off his mangled, sweat-stained white tank top. "Back in my world, if I had to walk this far, I'd be demanding double overtime pay."

[System: Warning! Complaining will not accelerate mission progress. You are currently at 1% Progress. There is still a long 99% road ahead before that chest of gold. Keep pushing, Worker 7789!]

"One percent?!" Raga nearly tripped over a tree root. "I’ve already taken down three guys with lumber, risked my life, and the reward is just one percent? System, you really have no heart. You’re even crueler than Foreman Grom!"

Hearing Raga’s mutterings, Naria offered a faint smile. "Raga, is this 'Foreman Grom' some kind of tyrannical ruler in your homeland?"

Raga glanced back at the princess, whose dress was now smeared with patches of mud. "He's no ruler, Naria. He's just a construction site boss with a bad habit of screaming whenever our cement mix isn't runny enough. Though, to be fair, he is pretty ruthless when it comes to paydays."

"Project? Cement? Is that a type of magic?" Naria asked, her eyes full of curiosity.

Raga paused for a moment, leaning his back against a massive tree trunk. "Cement is the material used to build everything, Naria. From small houses all the way to cloud-piercing skyscrapers. In my country, Indonesia, we build things really fast. Sometimes, even faster than a politician's empty campaign promises."

Naria giggled. "Your country sounds utterly unique. Can everyone there build high-rise towers?"

"Not really," Raga chuckled, picturing the chaotic bustle of Jakarta. "But there, if you can't build a house, you can definitely build empty talk. Oh, and we have something called an 'online motorcycle taxi'. You can summon a guy on a motorbike through a tiny box in your palm, and he’ll brave through absolute gridlock just to deliver sweet martabak right to you."

"Sweet martabak?" Naria tilted her head.

"Imagine a thick, rich pancake loaded with extra cheese and chocolate, but you have to wait two hours for it because your driver is trapped in a sea of vehicles," Raga explained.

Naria stared blankly for a second, then let out a clear, bright laugh—a sound that made the eerie, menacing forest feel just a little bit warmer. "That sounds like a much harder adventure than our escape today."

[System: Warning! The subject is engaging in unproductive 'Deep Talk'. Mission progress does not increase through culinary small talk. Find an evacuation route immediately!]

"Shut up, S.I.N.I.!" Raga scoffed. "Naria, I want to go home. I've got a motorcycle payment, rent due, and a stray cat waiting for me by my front door. I don't want to die in this forest."

Naria looked at Raga with a deep, penetrating gaze. "You truly aren't from around here, are you? The way you talk about your world... it's as though it's entirely real, yet filled with such absurd, tragic comedy."

"That's just reality for you," Raga answered honestly. "Back home, there's no magic, no princesses running from rebels. Just laborers grinding day in and day out just to afford three meals a day. That's why, when this damn system promised me gold, I didn't have any other choice."

Naria fell silent. She looked at Raga, no longer seeing a mighty "hero," but a simple man caught up in a whirlpool of destiny he never asked for. "I don't know who sent you here, Raga. But I believe you are a hero. None of the people from my kingdom would ever trade their lives just to help a stranger in the woods without expecting anything in return except... gold."

"Well, to be fair, I am expecting that gold," Raga quickly clarified.

"Even so," Naria smiled warmly. "Your courage in doing something foolish to save me—that is the purest form of heroism."

[System: Emotion Analysis: Princess Naria has granted the status 'High Trust'. Mission Progress: 2%. Congratulations, you just earned an extra 1% by impressing the princess with a pancake story.]

Raga rolled his eyes toward the floating translucent screen. "Only 2%? Do you want me to explain how to fix a leaky faucet so I can get another 3%?"

"What is a leaky faucet?" Naria asked.

Raga let out a long sigh, turning to resume walking. "It's a long story, Naria. So, back in my country, we have plumbers..."

As they stepped deeper into the forest canopy, the thick trees began to thin out, revealing the silvery glow of the moonlight. Raga knew they weren't completely safe yet, but at least in this strange, unfamiliar world, he had someone willing to listen to his grievances about the utterly nonsensical life back in Indonesia.

And to him, that was worth far more than any chest of gold promised by a cheating system.

"Stay sharp," Raga whispered as they reached the edge of a riverbank. "I smell something burning. Looks like those rebels haven't given up the chase."

Naria nodded, her previously cheerful expression hardening into a sharp, focused gaze. "If they come, I will use the remainder of my mana to protect us."

Raga offered a wry smile, gripping his small crowbar tightly. "Won't be necessary, Naria. As long as I'm here, they won't lay a finger on you. Besides, I haven't gotten around to telling you about the phenomenon of convenience store 'parking attendants'. That's way more terrifying than any rebel."

Naria laughed, and that night, deep within the woods of Eudor, the laborer and the princess kept moving forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead.