Reverse Dungeon

The chief moved almost immediately.

The front entrance wasn’t visible from their room, but with two members of the party possessing superhuman hearing, his departure was impossible to miss.

The elf, ear pressed against the door, spoke first.

“He’s leaving.”

“Already?”

“I put a spirit on him the moment he stepped out.”

Meanwhile, Keith couldn’t help wondering why Ian was standing so close to the elf with his own ear pressed near the door.

Lord Ian seeks harmony among all races. Yet here I am, still harboring prejudice against other races. I still have far to go....

Clutching his rosary, Keith quietly offered a prayer, confessing his sins and asking the heavens for forgiveness.

By then, Ian and the elf had already shifted positions. Ian now lay flat on the floor with his ear pressed against it.

“Good. He hasn’t noticed anything. Doesn’t sound like he plans on coming back anytime soon.”

“That’s an impressive skill.”

“It’s nothing special.”

The elf tried to sound modest, but the pleased look on his face ruined the act entirely. Keith closed his eyes again, suppressing the irritation rising in his chest. He had believed himself free of prejudice toward elves, yet this persistent discomfort suggested otherwise. Perhaps he was ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ more narrow-minded than he cared to admit.

The elf summoned a spirit.

A translucent gray shape bloomed in his palm like a flower unfurling its petals. From within emerged a tiny spirit, stretching languidly as though waking from sleep.

It was about the size of a fairy. Its transparent features were difficult to make out, but unlike a fairy’s dragonfly-like wings, this spirit’s wings resembled those of a butterfly—bright, ornate, and vivid. As it fluttered into the air, trails of shimmering light scattered behind it.

The elf spoke softly.

“Could you let us hear what your sisters are listening to?”

The spirit nodded.

A brief crackle followed, like static between frequencies. Then the spirit opened its tiny mouth, and the chief’s voice emerged from it.

“...They’re completely out. All three stuffed themselves, so it won’t be long before they pass out cold. You could carry them away and they wouldn’t even notice.”

“One of them’s a knight, apparently. Didn’t expect that. Though I guess no noble travels without a guard.”

“The tall one’s probably the noble. Barely spoke a word. The black-haired one talked politely enough, but with a face like that, he’s probably just some servant.”

“Then the elf must be the knight. We disarm him first.”

“They say a knight’s body itself is a weapon. If he wakes up, all of us together still wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Relax. I used every bit of the sedative just to be safe.”

“...Won’t that kill them?”

“If the drugs don’t, the desert will once we dump them out there.”

“We’ll at least leave them somewhere shaded. That’s mercy enough. We’re not killing anyone. We’re just taking back what outsiders stole from us. Nobody can blame us for that.”

“Exactly. How many times have outsiders screwed us over already?”

The spirit flawlessly mimicked each speaker, including the two burly men who had guarded the village entrance.

There were at least five people involved. Apparently, the village’s labor shortage didn’t apply to banditry.

“Once they’re completely unconscious, I’ll give the signal. The knight might hold out longer, so stay fed and ready. Keep watch by the windows and listen carefully.”

“Don’t worry, Chief. We’re not amateurs.”

“Right. Hahaha.”

The sound of footsteps gradually faded before the spirit finally fell silent.

The elf waved a hand, dismissing it.

“See? I told you this place was basically a bandit village.”

Ian let the silence linger for a moment, giving everyone time to absorb what they had heard.

The elf was the first to recover.

“What kind of logic is that? We didn’t do anything to them, but they’re taking it out on us just because we’re outsiders? Life’s already hard enough as a homeless elf.”

Doesn’t seem all that shocked to me, Ian thought.

He’d initially pegged the elf as chaotic good, but maybe chaotic neutral was more accurate. That would explain why the usual righteous speeches never really landed.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But seriously, how did you know they were up to something?”

Too lazy to explain, Ian simply pointed upward with one finger in a vague gesture of divine revelation.

“We didn’t touch the drugged food, so we’re fine for now. Still, just in case, let’s pretend to be asleep.”

“Why bother? Why not wipe out the whole village? They’re all in on it.”

Ian slowly turned to look at the elf.

Chaotic evil?

Had the developers finally decided to add a genuinely evil alignment? Ian briefly wondered if the game designers had abandoned all restraint in their obsession with originality. Then again, redemption arcs for villains were always popular.

Maybe they haven’t completely lost it yet.

For some reason, that thought reassured him.

Keith, however, looked troubled.

“You gave the porridge to the child because...” His hesitant question trailed off.

“So she wouldn’t have to see anything unpleasant.”

Keith’s eyes trembled slightly before he suddenly dropped to one knee.

The abrupt gesture caught Ian completely off guard.

“Forgive me.”

“...What?”

“I doubted you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your reason for giving the child the porridge.”

Keith looked genuinely remorseful. Only then did Ian realize how suspicious the situation must have looked to a holy knight who lacked context.

A chill ran down his spine.

Did his loyalty drop?

Carefully, Ian asked, “What exactly did you think I drugged the kid for?”

“I... didn’t think that far.”

“...Then you didn’t really doubt me.”

“No. The very fact that I doubted you was sinful enough. I condemn others for failing to recognize your grace, yet I myself failed to trust your compassion.”

What does this guy even want from me?

“Fine. You’re a sinner. Happy now? Don’t doubt me again. What’s the point of swearing loyalty if you keep questioning everything I do?”

Ian scolded him half-heartedly, assuming that was the response Keith wanted.

Apparently, it was.

Keith immediately held something out to him. Reluctantly, Ian took it.

A short whip.

“....”

Ian recognized it instantly.

He’d seen it once before—the morning after that incident.

No. Nothing happened. I have never seen this whip in my life.

Ian forcefully corrected his own thoughts.

Unfortunately, reality remained directly in front of him.

“My faith has always been fragile, like a candle flickering in the wind. Despite the countless revelations you’ve shown me and the salvation you’ve granted me time and again, I wavered once more and doubted you. And because I’ve been too lenient with myself, I nearly allowed those sins to pass without proper repentance—even after you forbade me from punishing myself.”

“You already confessed. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. It isn’t. I also felt discomfort at your kindness toward other races, yet I convinced myself it wasn’t worth confessing. But how could such thoughts be fitting for someone who claims to serve you faithfully?”

Keith raised his eyes to meet Ian’s.

There was something almost painfully devout in them—a depth so unwavering it bordered on madness. Even kneeling there asking to be whipped, he looked less like a penitent and more like a noble knight painted into some grand religious masterpiece.

Not that Ian cared.

This is insane.

Keith was far too unpredictable. And what was this nonsense about devotion when the man had distrusted him from the very beginning? What kind of devout believer flirted like that?

And don’t even get me started on the whole “repaying you with my body” thing....

Keith’s bizarre mix of fanatical reverence and sudden inappropriate remarks was genuinely infuriating.

The memory of that incident resurfaced without warning, and irritation surged through Ian before he could stop it.

Why the hell had he gone through so much trouble for this guy?

The moment he remembered the way Keith had looked at him back then, Ian’s hand moved before his thoughts could catch up.

Smack!

The whip struck Keith across the thigh.

“Ungh...”

A low groan escaped him.

Keith barely reacted.

Ian, however, froze in horror.

He did have a bad habit of hitting people when they annoyed him, but whips crossed a line even for him.

This seriously wasn’t supposed to happen.

And then the notification appeared before his eyes.

Ding!

[Keith’s Affection: 93%]

It had gone up.

“...What the hell is wrong with you?”