Reverse Dungeon

“......?”

Ian tilted his head, completely unable to understand the logic behind the elf’s affection system.

Instead, he said, “Walk faster. Aren’t you going to save your companion?”

“My first regular customer is so considerate, even toward his companion.”

Despite his usual sluggish air, the elf moved with surprising agility, the kind that made it hard to believe he would sink like a stone if thrown into water. He deflected a spear launched from a trap tile with ease.

At least the guy knew how to protect his own skin.

Ian, however, had not miscalculated. The traps here weren’t lethal enough to kill them outright.

One careful step at a time, they cleared the traps, leaping over the mine tiles as they went. After a long, tedious mini-game, the end finally came into view. Ian felt the tension ease from his shoulders.

‘He’ll be fine, right?’

Keith had grown considerably stronger. His experience was optimized for combat, and his class specialized in survival above all else. His skill set was perfectly suited to defeating mamool—better than any other playable character’s, even.

‘He’s fine.’

After safely dumping the remaining stones from his inventory in the safe zone, Ian headed for the exit.

At last, Ian and the elf escaped the traps and returned to the tower.

It was not a moment of triumph.

Ian’s mind was still racing. He immediately began searching for the staircase leading downward.

Then a glimmer of light caught his eye.

‘Light?’

Unease prickled across his skin. Ian pressed his back against the wall.

The next instant, a mamool burst out directly in front of him.

Splash!

Its bodily fluids splattered in a circular spray across the nearby wall and ceiling. A knight stepped back to avoid the filth, then swung his sword.

He was clad from head to toe in immaculate white armor. In his hand, an opalescent blade shimmered faintly with holy light. Not a single speck of blood stained him.

Clean.

Almost beautiful.

The knight’s emotionless gaze turned toward Ian.

His sword moved as naturally as though it were part of his own body.

‘I’m going to be cut.’

Ian’s body reacted on instinct. His muscles tensed. Every hair on his skin stood on end.

But this was Keith. freёwebnoѵel.com

Not an enemy. freewebnøvel.com

A terrifying opponent, yes—but not someone who would harm him.

Ian’s body went still, forcibly halting the reflex to counterattack.

Keith raised his sword.

The blade gleamed coldly.

For one suspended moment, it felt like an absolute law of the world that the sword would split Ian cleanly in two from the crown of his head down.

But instead of retreating, Ian called out.

“Keith?”

Light returned to the knight’s eyes.

He blinked, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

“Lord Ian.”

The raised sword lowered gently, as though all strength had drained from it. Keith looked utterly dazed.

Ian let out the breath he had been holding. A smile of relief tugged unconsciously at his lips.

Only then did the path Keith had taken become clear.

His broad frame and bulky armor almost blocked the narrow tower corridor from view, but the trail of mamool corpses behind him told the story well enough.

Ian looked past him and spotted something in the distance.

A boss room.

The [Room That Grants Wishes].

This was the final floor.

The tower had seven floors in total. While Ian and the elf had struggled through two traps, Keith had already cleared all seven.

‘How is that even possible?’

Ian’s jaw nearly dropped.

Physically speaking, it made no sense. A grind-heavy map existed for one purpose: to waste time. Keith couldn’t possibly have some absurd overpowered technique that let him slaughter mamool fast enough to skip the intended pacing.

‘No, wait. He absolutely could.’

“How did you get here so fast?” Ian asked, genuinely incredulous.

Keith looked even more shocked than Ian did.

His only goal had been to climb the tower.

Time had not mattered.

Method had not mattered.

Faster.

Without stopping once.

He had to climb.

At the top of the tower, there was a magical tome.

That tome would bring Ian back to his side.

He had not drunk water. He had not paused to catch his breath.

At some point, it had felt as though something other than blood was flowing through his veins—the holy power he had continuously poured into strengthening his body. It left him strangely lightheaded, like an addict swallowed by the thing sustaining him.

What if he was too late?

Keith refused to ask himself that question.

Instead, he focused solely on killing mamool.

It was not difficult.

It was something he had always done.

And yet his palms kept sweating. The mamool did not frighten him, but his throat remained painfully dry. His heart beat out of rhythm.

Something was wrong.

His body felt wrong.

‘Is Lord Ian all right?’

‘Am I already too late?’

‘Why did he abandon me and choose the elf?’

‘Why?’

Keith’s mind swayed between clarity and confusion. Foolish questions devoured him, followed by fear, followed by a brief return to reason.

He could not escape the cycle.

‘What a stupid thought.’

Stop thinking about useless things.

He ordered himself to do so.

It did not work.

The mamool were not especially dangerous. Ian was probably fine.

Each time that thought settled, another question stabbed at him from beneath it.

‘Why did Lord Ian choose that elf?’

Keith shook his head.

‘Why does that matter? It isn’t important at all.’

He wanted to regain his composure.

He wanted to seek an answer from God.

But God did not answer questions.

God only watched.

The only one who could answer Keith was Ian.

Keith killed the final mamool. Out of habit, he stepped aside to avoid its filthy blood.

And then Ian appeared behind it as if by magic.

Keith nearly dropped his sword.

“This... This is not something I should be asking, but...”

His voice trembled.

“You returned safely. Oh, thank you, God.”

Keith sank to his knees as though all strength had left his body.

He seized Ian’s hand and pulled him closer.

Ian stumbled, startled.

Their faces were only inches apart.

Keith stared into him with terrifying intensity.

“Never do that again.”

His voice was low, almost raw.

“...Promise me. Swear you will never throw yourself into danger like that again.”

Keith’s piercing blue eyes glimmered in the dim light.

Ian’s hand began to ache in his grip.

His heart pounded.

Was it just the last traces of adrenaline?

“I wasn’t in danger,” Ian replied.

“Of course. Then I’ll rephrase it.”

“......?”

“Promise me you will never leave my side again.”

Keith’s cold armor seemed to warm gradually against Ian’s body heat. At the center of his blue irises, an intricate pattern shimmered faintly, almost like a spell taking shape.

Ian nearly nodded.

Then the elf intervened, pulling Ian back.

“Hold on. I need clarification. Am I still your second regular?”

“......?”

Keith «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» turned toward the elf.

His gaze dropped to their joined hands.

For some reason, Ian suddenly wanted to let go.

But the elf held on tight.

“Who is the one you would risk your life to save?” the elf asked.

“......?”

Ian stared blankly.

What kind of question was that? Was this a continuation of the nonsense from earlier?

“Neither of you!” he blurted instinctively.

‘Wait. Does that lower affection points?’

Regret came a beat too late.

Both Keith and the elf looked shocked.

“......!”

“......!?”

“You jumped into a trap for me, though!” the elf protested indignantly.

Keith’s brow furrowed.

“What exactly are you two talking about?” he asked, voice stern.

The elf turned to Keith and immediately began complaining.

“My first regular customer is truly something else. This is what people call a real player. He saved me, made my heart race, held my hand like he would never let go, and now he says—”

“Lord Ian.”

Keith’s voice dropped ominously.

Ian flinched.

He had been scolded plenty of times in his life, especially as a child, when he used to pick fights with other kids constantly. But there was a particular kind of dread that came when the orphanage director who had raised him used that exact tone.

Why did this feel the same?

“Do you believe that nonsense?” Ian asked, baffled.

“This is not a matter of whether I believe it or not.”

“Then what is it?”

Keith took Ian’s hand firmly.

For one absurd instant, Ian imagined the elf and Keith pulling hard enough to split him in two.

He kept the thought to himself.

This was not the mood for jokes.

In fact, the strangest person in this situation was the elf. No matter how much Ian tried to pull away, the elf stubbornly clung to his hand.

What was he even trying to accomplish?

Keith bit his lip, looking pained.

“Lord Ian, you are far too kind.”

“What?”

“I finally understand why those wild rumors about you exist.”

“What?”

Keith was acting strange too.

Ian did not want to know what kind of idealized version of him existed inside Keith’s head.

Well, maybe he was a little curious.

But not right now.

Whatever it was, it was definitely going to be ridiculous.

And Keith delivered that ridiculousness with absolute conviction.

“Elf.”

He turned to him.

“Let go of his hand.”

“......?”

“Must I?”

“......?”