I was Reincarnated as an Incompetent Leader with Zero Popularity who met his downfall early on. Instead of banishing the hidden cheat Protagonist, I decided to embrace him, and somehow, I ended up being treated like a Hero instead. - Chapter 4

Just because I’d become Alva didn’t mean I was destined to follow his original, tragic path. Honestly, the thought of behaving arrogantly or unfairly—especially to the point of unjustly berating and banishing Chrono—was completely alien to me.

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s maintaining the status quo.

As a Silver-ranked adventurer, I could keep hunting monsters, completing requests, and saving money. When the time came and my body could no longer handle combat, I’d retire. No drama, no wasteful spending—just a quiet, practical life.
Of course, this plan assumed I had Alva’s original skills. That was something I’d have to test.

As I wandered aimlessly through the streets, lost in thought, my eyes fell on a door carved with the image of a hawk.
I recognized it instantly—this was the headquarters of The Grey Hawks.

The fact that I had unconsciously made my way here suggested I retained some of Alva’s muscle memory or instinct from his daily life. If that was true, it would make adjusting to this world, including handling adventurer work, significantly easier. Reassured by the thought, I pushed open the door.

I had expected darkness, but the room was dimly lit. A single lamp rested on the large table in the center, casting a faint, warm glow. The space I entered served as both a living area and reception room, furnished with a large table and several sofas. At the far end of the room, a staircase led to the second floor, where the private quarters of the party members were located.

Currently, The Grey Hawks consisted of five members:
*Alva, the swordsman and leader.
*Brock, a towering paladin always clad in full armor and perpetually silent.
Curse, a cheeky rogue with a scar on his cheek and a habit of chasing women.
*Mian, a capricious yet powerful mage, who also happened to be a strikingly beautiful girl.
Est, a kind-hearted healer who shouldered all the party’s recovery needs, and another stunningly beautiful girl.
And then there was Chrono, the errand boy and adventurer-in-training.

Chrono didn’t have his own room. His “bedroom” was the kitchen floor. When the party wasn’t out adventuring, he took care of shopping and all the housework—tasks we dumped on him without hesitation.

Chrono was a fifteen-year-old dreamer who had left his rural hometown, hoping to become a great adventurer like his father. Alva had sweet-talked him with promises of “valuable experience” and “help to become a full-fledged adventurer.”

Unfamiliar with how adventurer parties operated, Chrono had no idea he was being exploited. For two years, he had endured near-slavery, believing that his hard work and loyalty would eventually earn him a place as a full-fledged member.

Of course, Alva had no intention of ever keeping that promise.

“…I think I’m going to be sick.”

What kind of heartless setting had my middle school self created? Sure, the tables would eventually turn, but for now, seeing this play out in real life was unbearable. The thought of stomach medicine in a kitchen cabinet came to mind, and I shuffled toward it with a heavy heart.

The kitchen was dark and still. In the corner, curled up on the cold floor with only a thin blanket, lay Chrono Knightley.
He had tucked himself tightly into a corner to take up as little space as possible, making him look even smaller than he already was. This wasn’t just neglect—it was child abuse. The dull ache in my stomach grew sharper.

I opened a cabinet and found the medicine, but swallowing it and walking away felt impossibly callous.

Should I wake him and move him to a proper room? Then again, I knew there weren’t any spare rooms upstairs. The least I could do was fetch an extra blanket from Alva’s room. That much was within my power.

I stared down at Chrono in silence, considering my options. He was so exhausted that he didn’t even stir despite my presence.

Seeing the protagonist for the first time, I realized how closely he matched my original description.

His delicate, youthful face was strikingly beautiful, almost ethereal. As he slept peacefully, his features held a soft, childlike charm, though it was clear he would grow into an undeniably beautiful adult.

His jet-black hair was unnaturally smooth, despite what I assumed was infrequent bathing, and his skin was clear and soft, almost feminine in its perfection.

I tilted my head, perplexed.

This was supposed to be the male protagonist. And yet, he looked more like a beautiful girl than anything else.