Reverse Dungeon

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you happy about ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ this?!”

“...Why would I be happy about being punished by you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking!”

Keith looked genuinely flustered.

“Are you saying I enjoy being whipped?”

“Didn’t you?”

“Of course not. I was simply grateful that you disciplined me yourself.”

“...What?”

The conversation was veering somewhere deeply concerning.

Had Keith always had masochistic tendencies?

Then again, Ian thought, believing in a god in a world this hopeless probably required some level of masochism to begin with....

Noticing Ian’s increasingly disturbed expression, Keith hurried to explain.

“Human faith is fragile. When one wavers, guidance is necessary. In the past, the fallen pope guided me. Now, only you can correct me when I stray.”

Ian abruptly fixated on something else entirely.

“Hold on. The pope whipped you?”

“Yes. When necessary.”

“And you just accepted that?”

Ian stared at him in disbelief. While he’d been going to absurd lengths trying to keep this man alive, Keith had apparently spent his time finding new ways to suffer voluntarily.

Realizing the source of Ian’s shock, Keith quickly added,

“Ah, you misunderstand. I wasn’t taught anything improper. Discipline has long been recognized as a valid form of repentance.”

So in other words, this fanatic was happy because punishment meant atonement. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Which was worse, though? Someone who enjoyed pain itself, or someone who enjoyed pain because it represented spiritual purification?

Ian honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

Meanwhile, Keith solemnly extended the whip toward him once again.

“Please continue to guide me. Steady my wavering faith.”

Ian wanted absolutely no part of this.

Back when he was younger, he fought because people picked fights with him first—not because he enjoyed hitting people.

At this rate, though, he really was going to inherit the former pope’s role as Keith’s “spiritual guide.”

“Just stop believing so intensely. Your faith is going to cause a serious problem someday....”

Would that be enough to get through to him?

Trying a different approach, Ian continued,

“Doubt isn’t a bad thing. Why do you think God gave humans the ability to think? People are meant to question things and keep living anyway. Wasn’t it your doubt that ultimately liberated the Vatican?”

“That was your accomplishment, sir.”

What is this guy even talking about?

Ian had never planned on storming the Vatican in broad daylight to defeat a mid-boss. Keith had been the one to recklessly charge in first.

Granted, thanks to that recklessness, they’d managed to catch both the unprepared pope and the still-incomplete Maverick off guard.

Ian wasn’t opposed to receiving praise—opportunities for that were rare enough already—but this particular misunderstanding was dangerous. If Keith started spreading stories like this, Ian’s reputation as some divine savior would spiral completely out of control.

One delusional believer was already more than enough. If this spread any further, Ian really might end up fighting the Demon Lord someday.

“No. It was your achievement.”

Ian answered firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Keith fell silent.

This man....

He lacked the dignified composure of the pope, who inspired obedience with gentle authority. In fact, most of the time Ian behaved in ways that made Keith question whether a divine messenger should act like this at all.

And yet somehow, Keith found himself following him anyway.

No one had ever told Keith it was acceptable to doubt.

They had only ever told him to believe.

And Keith, in turn, had taught the same blind faith to his own disciples.

What had that blind faith produced?

The fall of the Vatican.

Think and seek. Which path is truly righteous?

Those words existed in scripture.

Keith had once assumed Ian was unfamiliar with sacred texts and required his guidance. Perhaps the opposite was true. People were often most confident about the things they understood least. Keith’s own arrogance was proof enough of that.

Suppressing the emotions swelling in his chest, he quietly engraved Ian’s words into his heart.

Then Ian spoke again.

“If you’re done eavesdropping, go wait in the other room.”

“Why?” The elf startled, having apparently forgotten he’d been silently listening the entire time.

“They suspect you’re the knight. If you stay elsewhere, they’ll relax. Otherwise they might attack you first. If they come after you, just tie them up. Don’t kill them.”

Ian issued the instructions with frightening precision for someone who supposedly wasn’t evil.

“I can do that, but does this count toward my debt? I still haven’t finished paying back the entrance fee.”

“You think ten thousand gold coins grow on trees? Work harder.”

“Ugh....”

Grumbling, the elf left the room.

Of course, Ian’s reasons for sending him away weren’t purely practical.

Well, partly.

But there was something Ian wanted to settle before entering the Desert Tower. Once the climb began, they wouldn’t have time to rest properly. If he wanted to deal with Keith’s condition, tonight was the ideal opportunity.

“Keith. Sit over here.”

“...?”

“We’re running an experiment. I need to figure out the exact conditions for your purification.”

“If you mean the requirements for purification, I already know them.”

Keith looked directly at Ian.

Unfortunately, it was painfully obvious what he meant: stripping Ian naked, licking him, and all the other horrifying nonsense from before.

Ian’s face immediately flushed red.

“That’s not what I mean! I’m talking about finding the most efficient method with the least amount of effort possible! What if your corruption spikes in the middle of a battle and you suddenly decide to strip me again? I’m never letting that happen twice.”

“Of course. I would never violate your purity again....”

“I’m not pure! And stop saying things like that! Nothing happened between us!”

Bright red, Ian slapped both hands against his own cheeks.

Smack! Smack!

Doesn’t that hurt?

Keith frowned as though he’d been struck himself.

Ian shook his head vigorously like a drenched dog trying to fling off water, then exhaled deeply. By the time he looked back up, his expression had regained its usual sharp focus.

Keith, however, had already drifted into entirely different thoughts.

If he reacts this strongly to being called pure, then what exactly does he mean by that...?

As the former Commander of the Holy Knights, Keith had never paid attention to rumors surrounding royal bastards and their scandalous lifestyles.

Still, judging by the stories he occasionally overheard from Ian’s subordinates, those rumors about Ian were apparently true.

And yet Ian had never behaved that way around him.

The contradiction puzzled him.

If Ian ever attempted something improper, Keith—as a servant of God—would naturally have to advise him against it.

...Wouldn’t he?

Am I simply not his type?

Keith remembered Ian once saying he looked good, but perhaps that had merely been an objective observation rather than genuine interest.

Some knights had once joked that excessively muscular men weren’t particularly attractive. Even within the disciplined Holy Knight Order, conversations of that nature occasionally surfaced. Whenever Keith approached, however, the discussions died instantly, leaving him little opportunity to understand them properly.

Maybe he prefers prettier people.

Keith had always known he was considered handsome. Back in his village, people used to say things like, “What a handsome young man,” and little girls would shyly hand him flowers.

Now those memories only tasted bitter.

Still, Ian did seem to prefer leaner physiques.

Perhaps someone smaller?

In that case, the elf has no chance either.

For some reason, that conclusion pleased him immensely.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Keith nodded in agreement with Ian’s insistence that nothing had happened between them.

It had simply been a sacred purification ritual. Nothing more.

The reverence and affection he felt toward Ian were entirely natural. And if Ian occasionally appeared unbearably adorable and impossible to resist, that was merely a side effect of the curse—a burden Keith alone had to endure.

Meanwhile, Ian folded his arms, lost in thought.

With his brows furrowed, he absentmindedly traced invisible lines in the air with one finger. The combination of his sharp expression and youthful features made him look strangely intimidating and adorable at the same time.

Then Ian suddenly spoke.

“Isn’t it weird that the purification condition required me to strip and wear your clothes?”

“...?”

Keith had never once considered that strange.

Ian, however, looked deeply suspicious of the entire situation.

“We need to start from the basics.”

“What do you mean?”

“This time, you take your clothes off.”

“...Ah.”

Every word Ian spoke felt revelatory.

Keith never would have considered this possibility on his own.

But if Ian wished it, then naturally—

“Yes.”

Without hesitation, Keith reached for the hem of his shirt and began to pull it off.