I’m standing in the throne room again. And let me tell you, the déjà vu is real.

The king is sitting on his golden throne, wearing his stupid pineapple hat.

Bob is bouncing next to me. Probably because he thinks we’re about to get knighted or showered in glory or whatever nonsense he’s been dreaming about.

I, on the other hand, would kill for a sandwich and a nap. In that order.

King Marcus clears his throat. “So, Hero Bob, explain.”

Bob, ever eager, jumps in like a puppy who just learned a new trick. “Your Majesty, it was incredible. Greg saved me from the villain!”

The king raises an eyebrow at me. His expression says he doubts I could save a kitten from a puddle. “Greg saved you?”

“Yes!” Bob says, puffing out his chest. “He was brave, resourceful, and—”

“Hungry,” I cut in. Because let’s be honest, I’m not letting Bob turn this into a fan club meeting. “I was also very hungry.”

The king waves a dismissive hand. “Spare me the poetry. What happened to the villain?”

Bob scratches his head. “Uh… I don’t know. I was teleported away before I could see what happened.”

The king’s gaze shifts to me, sharp and suspicious. “And you, Greg. What happened to her?”

I straighten up, trying to look impressive, which is hard when you’ve still got soot on your boots. “I defeated her.”

“Did you really?” the king asks, leaning forward like he’s sniffing out a lie. “How can I trust you?”

“You can’t,” I say, deadpan. “I’m a very shady character.”

Bob chokes on a laugh.

The king narrows his eyes. “Do you have any proof, Greg?”

I reach into my pouch, pulling out the amulet. The thing glows dangerously, pulsing with a kind of energy that screams bad idea. I hold it up like it’s an apple I found at the market.

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The king’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Is that—? Is that the Amulet of Total Destruction?!”

“Yep,” I reply, shaking it slightly. “Although, I was thinking of renaming it. Maybe something less dramatic. Like ‘Greg’s Problem Solver Deluxe.’”

The king sputters, pointing at the amulet like it’s a live grenade. “That thing could destroy an entire kingdom! And you just… you just have it?”

“Well, yeah,” I say, tossing it lightly and catching it.

Bob gasps. “Greg! Be careful!”

“What? It’s fine,” I say, handing the amulet to the king. “Probably.”

The king stares at me like I’m the most reckless person he’s ever met. Which, fair.

Finally, he shakes his head and sighs. “Well, regardless. Congratulations on defeating the villain.”

Bob beams. “Thank you, Your Majesty! But really, Greg did all the work—”

“Doesn’t matter,” the king interrupts, holding up a hand. “The people need a hero to rally around. Someone noble. Inspiring. Someone who makes them feel safe.”

I start to feel a tiny flicker of pride. Maybe, just maybe, the king is going to give me some credit.

“And Greg the Guard,” the king continues, looking me up and down, “is not that guy.”

Ah. There it is.

Bob frowns. “But—”

“No,” the king says firmly. “The people need the Chosen One. They need you, Bob. That’s why we’ll be throwing a parade in your honor.”

Bob’s face lights up like a child who’s just been handed a mountain of candy. “A parade? Really?”

“Really,” the king says, clapping his hands. “There will be banners, musicians, food carts. The works.”

Bob turns to me, smiling. “Greg! A parade!”

“Great,” I say, forcing a smile. “Sounds fun.”

The king clears his throat. “Greg, you will not be going.”

I blink. “Come again?”

“You’re not exactly… parade material,” he says delicately. “And we can’t let the people know you defeated the villain. That would complicate things.”

“Oh, sure,” I say, crossing my arms. “Wouldn’t want to complicate things with the truth.”

Bob steps forward, looking upset. “But Your Majesty, Greg deserves to be in the parade! He saved me, and he—”

The king waves him off. “This isn’t about what Greg deserves. It’s about what the people need. And what they need is you, Bob. Not Greg.”

I snort. “Well, at least I don’t have to smile and wave for hours. That sounds exhausting.”

The king ignores me, standing up and motioning toward the door. “You’re dismissed. Go. Prepare yourselves. The parade is tomorrow.”

Bob looks like he wants to argue more. But I grab his arm and steer him toward the exit. No point sticking around to get snubbed twice.

As we walk out of the throne room, the silence stretches between us.

Finally, Bob stops. He turns to me with a sincere expression that makes me want to roll my eyes and pat him on the head at the same time.

“Greg,” he says, his voice soft, “thank you. For everything. For saving me. For putting up with me. For… just being there.”

I stare at him for a moment, then sigh. “Bob, don’t get all emotional on me. It’s weird.”

“I mean it,” he insists. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Well,” I say, cracking a grin, “technically, you didn’t do anything. But you’re welcome.”

He laughs, and for a moment, the weight of the day feels a little lighter.

“Come on, Chosen One,” I say, clapping him on the back. “Let’s get you ready for your big parade. I hear they’re serving snacks.”