Reverse Dungeon

From the moment that dense, violent dark energy surged forth, Keith knew something was wrong with his body.

His heart—or something buried even deeper—was pounding wildly. A strange heat spread through him, filling him to the marrow.

His unfocused gaze fixed on Ian.

The boy was concentrating on purifying the orb, small shoulders hunched, every bit of him intent on the task before him. Keith could not look away.

Ian was wrapped in Keith’s oversized cloak. It looked as though it might slip from his shoulders at any moment, held in place only by the precarious knot of the ribbon. His hands fidgeted nervously beneath it, small and soft, unmarked by calluses, delicate in a way Keith could not stop noticing.

Those tiny hands would both fit easily inside one of Keith’s palms.

That slight body looked light enough to gather up without effort.

—I want to consume him.

No.

People were not things to be consumed. What kind of thought was that?

—He must taste sweet. Sweet enough to melt on my tongue.

People did not melt.

Was he losing his mind?

—Then why did I look away? It was only a man’s body, wasn’t it? No different from the bodies I have seen countless times on training grounds, in barracks, in shared quarters.

Because he should not look at Ian that way.

—What kind of way is “that”?

The voice inside him seemed to shift.

It was no longer merely speaking.

It was speaking to Keith.

And in that instant, Keith understood.

This was a curse.

A wicked curse was clawing through something fundamental inside him. What it was, he could not say. But one thing was certain.

It would harm Ian.

He would harm Ian.

No.

But the curse had already taken hold, and the walls Keith had built to keep his desires contained began to crumble.

Keith had been raised in the temple. He had lived bound by duty, doctrine, and the principles of a Holy Knight. Obligation and restraint had shaped his soul into something rigid and disciplined.

He knew he must not look at Ian that way.

He must not let his gaze linger on each delicate feature, each fleeting movement. He must not allow such thoughts to take form.

Because people were not meant to be looked at like that.

People were not meant to be desired.

Keith did not desire anything.

He had never questioned why this strange, stubborn person kept slipping into his thoughts, why Ian’s presence had settled so naturally into the corners of his daily life.

He simply had not.

But now, everything that had held him back shattered.

The feelings he had buried rose all at once, like floodwater breaking through a dam.

Don’t.

He had warned Ian.

But Ian was not fast enough to escape Keith’s grasp.

That was the last moment Keith’s reason still obeyed him.

In truth, Ian did not fully understand why he was supposed to run. The instant he saw the word curse, instinct had taken over.

Even then, Keith looked fine.

His ragged breathing had steadied, and his expression had returned to its usual stoic calm. Yet something about him was undeniably wrong.

His eyes.

They were red.

“Keith?”

Ian called his name cautiously.

Red eyes were an unusual side effect. They suggested the curse might be far more serious than expected. Still, Keith was not attacking him.

Was he?

Normally, Keith would have answered at once. This time, he said nothing.

Instead, he slowly crouched down, reached for Ian’s shoes, and removed them. His socks followed.

“...?”

Ian was too stunned to stop him.

This was Keith, after all. Keith was a man of action, the sort who often skipped explanations and went straight to whatever practical measure he deemed necessary.

Ian’s feet were still clean and dry. He had spent most of the journey in Keith’s arms, so they were almost exactly as they had been when he first put on his socks.

Still, no one wanted their bare feet exposed like this.

Ian instinctively curled his toes in protest.

Keith ignored the silent resistance and lowered his head.

“What the—!”

Ian barely managed to cry out before Keith’s other hand tore through the fabric of his trousers.

How did cloth tear that easily? Were these things made of paper?

Even in the midst of panic, the thought flashed absurdly through Ian’s mind.

Then Keith’s tongue dragged along his foot and up toward his ankle. The sensation was unbearable—ticklish, intimate, and wrong enough to make Ian’s toes twitch helplessly. Keith’s large hand closed around his calf, kneading as though fascinated by the softness of it, his touch moving higher little by little.

No.

This was not the time to freeze.

The moment Keith’s head slipped beneath the cloak he himself had wrapped around Ian, Ian finally snapped back to himself.

What the hell is this curse?!

Only then did he read the description.

Ding!

[Belial’s Curse (S)]

Turns the cursed into a slave of their desires.

“What kind of desires?!” Ian shouted, his voice cracking with outrage.

Had the game company lost its mind?

Since when had this become an adult game?

“Wait—wait, Keith, stop...!”

Keith’s hair brushed against Ian’s inner thigh, and only then did Ian realize another layer of clothing was gone.

He had no idea when it had disappeared.

Keith’s hair was soft.

So soft it was almost painful to register.

Ian could not understand why he had to confirm that softness against such a vulnerable place. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Think.

He had to think.

Keith was cursed.

Curses could be purified.

!

‘, , ...’

“Why the hell isn’t it working?!”

The curse’s effect did not disappear.

The dark energy was slowly weakening, but Keith’s movements showed no sign of stopping.

Ian desperately tried not to think about what might happen next. He was not even an especially imaginative person, and yet the worst possible outcome came to him with vivid, horrifying clarity.

He had never even played an adult game.

So why was his mind producing scenes like this?

His thoughts raced through escape routes.

He could kick Keith.

No—Keith was too close. That was impossible.

He could kill Keith outright.

No.

Ian could not bring himself to destroy a five-star character.

Damn it.

Then what choice did he have?

He had to keep using until the curse wore off.

“Ah...”

Keith’s breath brushed against Ian’s exposed skin, and Ian shuddered despite himself.

The dark energy had dropped to ninety percent.

Ian had no idea how much longer this would take.

If it dragged on, what would happen to him?

He did not have to wonder for long.

“Lord Ian...”

Keith’s voice came out breathless, strained, and frighteningly low.

“...!”

Ian jerked back on instinct, pulling his knees up, but it was useless. There was no contest of strength between him and Keith.

His thoughts dissolved into static, leaving only one desperate sentence behind.

“Get a grip... How can you even look at me right now?”

“Don’t hide from me,” Keith said, his voice rough. “Show me everything.”

Ian thought he might actually lose his mind.

He covered his eyes with both hands.

At that moment, Keith pulled the cloak aside, leaving him exposed beneath the harsh midday sun.

Humiliation burned through Ian from head to toe.

When he tried to scream, Keith caught his hands and drew them away from his face.

Keith’s features came into view—carved, stoic, unbearably close.

“I like your eyes,” Keith said. “They’re delicate, but strong... unlike the rest of your body. Looking at them excites me.”

The words struck Ian like a physical blow. He could only stammer, unable to form a proper response.

Keith lowered his head ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) again, and a sharp, electric shock ran through Ian’s body.

The curse’s intensity dropped further.

Eighty percent.

For one fleeting instant, Keith’s reason surfaced.

With trembling hands, he drew his sword.

What am I doing?

Ian turned at the sound of steel leaving its sheath.

Then froze.

Keith was driving the blade toward his own abdomen.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ian shouted, lunging for the weapon.

“Lord Ian...” Keith breathed. “You should leave me.”

“Shut up! You are not dying over this!”

Ian clenched his teeth, rage and panic boiling over together.

“Isn’t this curse cooldown-based?!” he demanded.

Keith blinked.

“What?”

“Once the effect activates, there’s a cooldown period, right?!”

If Keith had managed to resist, even for a moment, then the curse was not permanent.

Which meant—

Maybe all they had to do was endure until it ran its course.