Reverse Dungeon

Keith seized the outstretched hand.

For a single instant, his fingers caught on the edge of Ian’s robe. The fabric brushed lightly against his fingertips—then vanished into the wall.

Without thinking, Keith slammed his palm against the spot where the two of them had disappeared.

Solid stone.

The wall refused him.

He immediately rushed up and down the staircase, frantically searching for a differently colored brick. But the wall remained the same dull shade all the way through. Even the darker patches weren’t discolored stone, merely shadows cast by the narrow windows cut into the tower.

It was as though the tower had no intention of revealing another trap.

As though it was already satisfied with the prey it had taken.

Bang!

Keith drove his fist into the wall hard enough to crack the stone. Fragments scattered across the stairs. Ignoring them completely, he lowered his forehead against the fractured surface.

‘I should have caught him.’

He never should have looked back when the elf made that strange noise.

It shouldn’t have mattered what happened to some other race.

The truth was, he hadn’t cared at all—so why had he turned around?

Reflex.

Keith knew exactly why.

Wherever there were screams, there were monsters. Experience had carved that instinct into his body long ago. The moment he heard the sound, his body reacted before his mind could, turning automatically to confirm whether something had attacked.

But he shouldn’t have.

If he had simply kept hold of Ian while looking back, there would still have been time. The elf would have bought him that much at least.

Self-reproach quickly twisted into another emotion.

‘Why?’

Why had Lord Ian chosen to follow him?

Keith knew Ian was unusually interested in elves. He asked strange questions whenever the topic came up, and there had always been a certain fondness in the way he spoke about them.

But even so—shouldn’t Ian’s own safety come first?

If Ian had fallen into a trap, Keith would have followed without hesitation. Ian was the single most important person in the world to him.

The elf wasn’t.

So why would Ian willingly risk himself for a lesser race?

No matter how Keith thought about it, the reasoning failed to make sense.

Ian had warned them already: touch the wrong thing, and you’d trigger a trap. Which meant the traps here were dangerous enough to merit caution.

And the elf himself was no weakling.

Keith had understood that much from the start. Anyone capable of wandering this world as a merchant had to possess considerable skill, but the elf had proven even more capable than expected. He had survived being trampled by Kyarakus. If survival was proof of strength, then the elf was unquestionably strong.

His ability to conceal himself from powerful monsters, his agility, his endurance, even his rare mastery over elemental magic—

Keith found it impossible to believe Ian hadn’t noticed all of it as well.

And yet Ian had still reached for him.

What did that say about the trap they had fallen into?

Bang!

Keith struck the wall again.

His heartbeat pounded heavily in his chest, like someone who had been running for far too long, and his breathing came rough and uneven.

He knew he was worried about Ian.

Of course he was worried.

But beneath that anxiety, one ugly question refused to disappear.

‘Why did Lord Ian choose him?’

A childish question.

Petty. Irrational.

Keith himself didn’t understand why it continued to torment him.

—

Ian successfully followed the elf into the trap.

Since his upper body entered first, he lost his balance the moment he passed through the wall and crashed hard onto the floor, rolling across the ground.

‘Stupid reality correction!’

Cursing the game on instinct, Ian pushed himself upright with both hands. Thanks to the passive enhancement from his skills, the fall didn’t leave him dizzy.

He immediately scanned the surroundings.

Dark. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Still, just like in the game, an unknown light source illuminated the immediate area around the player.

Which made absolutely no sense.

If there was light, then the entire room should have been visible. Why was only the space around the player illuminated? Sometimes the game insisted on realism, and other times it shamelessly ignored it.

‘At least pick one.’

Still, limited visibility was better than none, so Ian decided not to complain further.

Instead, he grabbed the elf by the back of the neck.

“Gah?!”

“Jesus, why are you screaming so loud?” Ian snapped, startled when the elf nearly alerted the entire area.

“Ah, was I your first regular? You should handle me more gently. I couldn’t see anything, and suddenly someone grabbed my neck—of course I got startled!”

“You can’t see?”

“Hm? You can?” The elf blinked rapidly, his expression openly bewildered.

‘Player privilege?’

When Ian cleared towers in-game, he usually brought only a small number of subordinates, mostly because he liked personally training them. Back then, subordinates moved automatically wherever he positioned them. Their visibility had never mattered to him.

After all, as long as the player could see the enemies, that was enough.

Still, something about this bothered him.

In the game, Ian could clearly see the areas around his companions on screen.

So if the game’s visibility system applied here too, shouldn’t he also be able to see what the elf saw?

‘Or is it because he’s not my subordinate?’

Ian found himself briefly admiring the absurd precision of the system. It was ridiculous.

“Well, if you couldn’t see anything, then you really did just wander into the trap blindly. If you’d been able to see, you would’ve heard the warning and stayed put.”

“You really curse a lot! And you followed me in here too!”

“That’s because of you!”

“Because of me?” the elf shot back accusingly. “You’re the one who followed me!”

“Why?” The elf’s eyes widened dramatically.

‘Why, my ass.’

Ian felt his patience rapidly thinning.

Was this idiot genuinely following him because he wanted to die that badly?

“You keep running headfirst toward death!”

“Hey, I may be suspicious, but did you already forget my wish? We had a very serious conversation about it,” the elf said, sounding offended.

Naturally, Ian had forgotten it completely. freёwebnoѵel.com

Right up until this moment.

‘Ah. He said he wanted to die.’

So he really had come here intending to kill himself?

Ian couldn’t decide which annoyed him more: the absurd setup attached to this five-star character, or the fact that he himself had gotten dragged into it.

Still, he couldn’t exactly kill the guy.

Suppressing a sigh, Ian tried to summon what little patience he had left. He vaguely remembered the conversation, but not the details.

“You... what was it again? Did you just want to die, or was there more to it?”

The elf looked deeply suspicious as he answered.

“Of course there was more. I said I wanted to die stylishly. My regular really doesn’t care much about me, huh? Maybe this relationship is one-sided after all. I’m hurt now. I even know my regular’s goal.”

“My goal? What nonsense are you talking about?”

There was no way this lunatic actually knew anything.

Now genuinely curious, Ian asked,

“And what exactly is my goal supposed to be?”

“To defeat the Demon King.”

“What the hell are you talking about?! Don’t listen to Keith’s nonsense!” Ian snapped immediately, horrified. Had Keith already managed to spread his delusions to hidden characters too?

“I didn’t hear it from Sir Keith.”

“Then who told you that?”

“I don’t know whether my regular realizes this,” the elf replied smugly, “but when someone takes an interest in another person, they naturally observe them.”

“And what exactly gave you the idea I’m some heroic figure destined to defeat the Demon King? Use your eyes.”

“Seriously, your words are harsher than your actions. You acted like you were interested in me, but meanwhile you’re dating my second regular. I was disappointed, you know. I simply chose not to say anything...”

“You’re the reason I don’t even know where the hell I am right now, so stop talking nonsense!”

“I’ve spent too long away from the human world. I forgot humans are such fickle creatures. My mistake for getting embarrassed...”

The elf muttered under his breath.

Then something fluttered overhead.

Both Ian and the elf immediately fell silent and turned toward the darkness ahead.

Nothing was visible yet.

Which meant they would have to move forward to identify the nature of the trap.

“Don’t you have some kind of detection skill or hint ability?” Ian asked quietly.

“Nope.”

“Summon a wind spirit.”

“...What?”

“Just do it.”

The elf obeyed, and moments later a wind spirit materialized above his palm.

Ian’s interest immediately sharpened.

He had always wanted to properly experiment with elemental magic, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

‘Maybe it’ll actually work here.’

Back in the game, he had never understood why this method [N O V E L I G H T] failed. But now that he existed inside this world himself, it felt far more plausible. He had already confirmed that certain abilities behaved differently in reality than they had in-game.

“Tell the spirit to stir up wind,” Ian instructed. “Enough to sweep across this entire floor. Send it forward.”

The elf carried out the request surprisingly well.

Soon, Ian could hear the shifting current of air, the scattering of small debris, the whistle of wind forcing its way through narrow gaps—

Then came a sharp sound.

Something was ahead of them.

The elf’s unique skill, Elemental Magic, allowed him to borrow power from contracted spirits. His second unique skill, Spirit Affinity, allowed him to communicate with them directly.

Most players focused entirely on leveling Spirit Affinity because higher levels unlocked contracts with stronger spirits.

But the skill had another side effect.

The spirits became increasingly talkative.

At low levels, choosing the “Talk” option only produced simple greetings like Hello. But once sufficiently leveled, spirits would occasionally offer bizarrely casual advice.

The air quality is good today. You should go outside.

Ironically, the weather predictions were based on real-world forecasts, meaning they were only accurate about half the time.

Ian had once relied on a contracted spirit instead of checking the actual forecast himself. Since he launched the game the moment he woke up, it had genuinely been more convenient than opening a weather site.

If that was how the mechanic worked in-game, then...

Would real communication with spirits actually be possible here?

“What’s the spirit saying?” Ian asked, eyes shining with excitement. “What’s blocking the airflow?”

‘Please tell me this actually works.’

That would be insanely fun—

“Monsters,” the elf answered slowly. “Hanging from the ceiling.”

“Ah.”

Before Ian could enjoy his excitement for even a second longer, a swarm of shadow bats descended on them in a furious frenzy.