Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: 4: If You Don't Go to Sleep Now, We're Going to the Dungeon -3
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Red Honey Fruit.
A peculiar fruit that grows only in the depths of the Megaia Swamp.
Unlike ordinary fruits, it isn't filled with pulp. Instead, naturally formed honey resides within it.
'It's not an item you get often, actually.'
Just better than plain honey, but there are plenty of other good things.
In a game overflowing with HP recovery and status ailment cure items—where you could make all the money you wanted—it was treated as just another mediocre item.
'But the sensations in the game and reality are definitely different.'
Recovery items were on the expensive side if you used them recklessly.
Same for me. I was a billionaire in the game, but now I'm just drowning in debt.
If you need something, gathering it yourself is cheaper than buying it with money.
"It's dense."
"Be careful, Senior. There are plenty of hidden critters in places like this."
"As expected of the guard dog. Good nose, huh."
"You'll be arrested the moment you step out of here."
"You're really scaring me."
"If it weren't for Senior, I'd just... right here."
I get that they're strong, but isn't the tension a bit too low?
"Alright, everyone calm down. The honey fruit is probably deep inside—"
Ophelia and Melissa kept exchanging glares.
What stopped their bickering wasn't me, but the sounds echoing from the forest.
-Woof woof!
-Kirrr...
Monster cries.
-Whooo...
-Kekekeke...
Laughter carried on the wind.
This was [Megaia Swamp].
The green hell that swallows any students who set foot inside.
...But.
"Don't doze off up front—keep a good lookout."
"Hmph, you keep an eye on Senior."
Those two didn't seem too tense.
Well, no wonder.
Healing Academy's dungeons range from 1-star to 7-star.
This great forest is 2-star. Fatalities happen occasionally, but nothing too severe.
Even average Disciplinary Committee members can clear a 3-star dungeon with a party... so Ophelia could probably solo one.
From 4-star onward, you'd need a proper party.
Melissa claimed she could solo a 3-star herself.
Which meant this party could handle at least a 4-star—maybe even 5-star if we pushed it.
Considering 6-star required massive raids and 7-star could level the academy...
'No wonder they're not on edge.'
Two 4-stars, one 1-star—no.
'Half a star, maybe.'
A wry smile crossed my lips at my own frailty.
Putting elite talent like this to work in a place like this.
"Why did Senior have to pick a partner like that...?"
"Disciplinary Committee's guide dog—stick to finding the path."
Meanwhile, the culprits themselves bickered on without a care.
That was when it happened.
Rustle.
Rustle.
The bushes to the side of the arguing pair shook.
I noticed because I'd been watching them.
Two Gray Wolves lurking in the underbrush were coiled, ready to pounce.
No time to warn them—the wolves launched themselves.
I snatched up my club as fast as I could and charged toward them—
"Don't interfere!"
"Annoying!"
Slash.
Boom!
Ophelia's precise strike.
It shot forward in a flash, severing the wolf's neck.
Melissa's potent spell.
It rocketed out like an arrow, piercing the wolf's heart.
"... "
"I sliced first."
"I pierced first."
"... "
"... "
"... "
"Senior."
"Assistant."
"I sliced first, right?"
"Didn't I pierce first?"
Just call it a tie, you monsters...
Damp.
Incredibly so.
"Ugh... hot. Even without the hat, it's this sweltering."
Sweat trickled down Melissa's cheek.
She fanned herself with her hat.
Even I, used to Korean steam-bath summers, was feeling the heat.
But one person was making it even worse for the rest of us.
"Ophelia, aren't you hot...?"
"It's manageable."
"No, if you're hot, just take it off."
"Manage... able."
She looked sweltering.
Wearing the coat I'd given her snugly—it was suffocating just to look at.
"Can't remove equipment during a mission—"
"No way, let's take a break. Better for you too, Melissa?"
"Splendid idea, Assistant..."
We found shade under a massive tree and hunkered down.
For swamp ground, it was surprisingly dry and firm.
Sitting there, it felt like the best decision ever.
"Seni—"
"Ophelia? You okay? Your eyes are glassy."
"Seeeeniior~"
"Yeah, I'm listening."
"Just wanted to call you."
...She's broken.
"Hurry up and strip."
"What are you saying, Senior?!"
Whoosh!
Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself.
"It's a gift from Senior! Not taking it off!"
"Perfect way to bake alive. And it's borrowed! Strip, now!"
Ophelia showed zero intention of complying.
I forcibly peeled the coat off her.
Heatstroke must've hit—her resistance was feeble.
"Ahh... it got taken off... by Senior..."
"Don't say stuff that'll cause misunderstandings."
Hot air rushed in as the coat came off.
We were prepping when...
"Heh."
Ophelia's condition went haywire.
Put simply, she lost it.
Already scorching, and she'd turned herself into a personal sauna. No surprise there.
"This spot isn't soaked—lie down."
"Waa~"
Ophelia flopped out spreadeagled. She needed fast, intensive care.
I pulled a solidly frozen ice bottle from my bag.
Thud.
Her back arched like a bow the instant ice hit her face. Her body jerked and twitched.
"Hn... uhn..."
"Hang in there. It'll cool you down quick."
"Ah... aaahn! So cooool..."
She twitched and moaned with every touch of ice on skin. Watching her get manhandled like that earned me a glare from Melissa.
"Whoa... sketchy pervert."
"What're you talking about? This is just rest."
"Be honest—did you have weird thoughts or not?"
"...No."
"What's with the pause?"
"... "
Had to switch topics.
"Anyway, is it safe to lounge like this? Shouldn't someone stand watch?"
"It's fine. Monsters here aren't clever enough."
"Good to hear."
My relief made Melissa's lips curl mischievously.
"Aaah~ Though word is, weird folks have been stirring trouble in dungeons lately."
"Weird folks?"
"Heard of the Shadow Theater Troupe?"
"Shadow Theater Troupe?"
First I'd heard of it.
New addition in the sequel, maybe?
"End of last year, I think... A 2-star monster popped up out of nowhere in a 1-star dungeon."
"In a 1-star?"
"Yep. Shadow Theater Troupe dumped it there... Claimed they were looking for someone to rip up the Scriptwriter's script."
Scriptwriter?
Rip up a script?
"Not the straightforward type."
"Nope."
"None here, right?"
"Who knows. But don't sweat it. We're not the only ones in this dungeon."
"Meaning?"
"What are the odds we get unlucky?"
Dump it on someone else, huh.
Irresponsible, but the safest bet.
"Still, better not get careless. Let's grab the honey fruit quick and bail."
"Yeah. Safer than risking it."
Before that.
"Haa... Senior..."
"... "
"Do more nice feely things... gonna lose it..."
"You're completely gone."
"...Haa..."
Thud.
"Aaaahn! Seniooor!"
First things first—deal with her.
Scribble scribble.
The quiet room was filled only with the sound of a fountain pen.
Soon, a voice shattered the silence, and several shadows converged in one spot.
"The script got twisted, bro."
The girl's voice was met by the boy's reply.
"...The script twisted?"
He sounded incredulous.
"How?"
"Melissa Green."
"Why her?"
"The script said this morning—we had to recruit her."
At the girl's words, the boy peered back into the script.
A script written days ago featured Melissa Green's tale.
Every script was set to bring her into the Shadow Theater Troupe.
It was supposed to start this very morning—with her coming here to meet the boy.
"Where is she?"
"Went into a dungeon with some guy. Oh, Ophelia was with them too."
"Hmm..."
The boy shoved the written script aside and let out a long sigh. He hadn't expected someone to defy the script.
"What now?"
"...Give him trials. Let him prove his worth."
"Knew you'd say that."
"No holding back."
"Naturally. I'll send that one his way first. If he can't handle it, he's unqualified."
"Thanks."
The door clicked shut, and silence returned to the room. As the boy scratched his pen across the page, a new script took shape.
"Name... Ethan Woodgate."
"[Ethan Woodgate explores the Megaia Swamp. Suddenly, he encounters something that has no business being there. Ophelia and Melissa fight valiantly, but it's not enough. How will Ethan navigate this crisis?]"
⟨ SCRIPT UPDATE ⟩
"If you want to alter her fate, prove it."
The boy finished the script and turned his gaze toward him.
Scripts couldn't be changed.
Fate couldn't be changed.
This script foretold it: Melissa would fail to find a solution, succumb to despair, and fully transform into a monster.
That was her fixed destiny. An unavoidable fate.
He'd hoped at least to shape her into a controllable monster.
Could he really change Melissa's fate?
Let her live on as a human, not a monster?
The Scriptwriter decided to watch in silence.
Hoping that someday, he could burn those very words.
"...Let's see about that, Woodgate. Whether you're the man who can free the slaves of fate."