The Princess and the Tall Knight Uncle - 1

I tossed Donnesia a couple pieces of jerky, then rifled through the pockets of the passed-out thugs. Fuck, they reek. Do I really have to dig through this? A tin-can knight patting down fainted assholes' pockets—stinking ones at that. It looked utterly ridiculous, but there was a deep reason I was looting these bastards' pockets.

They had a hidden piece that made it impossible for Donnesia to fight back. Normally, bandits like these shouldn't have been able to lay a finger on her. She had insurance left by her father—a safeguard she knew well and used to survive the back alleys. Even I, with these biceps ready to burst, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wouldn't guarantee victory against that insurance.

So why did Donnesia, of all people, get owned by these two idiots? Fuck, not in the pocket. Guess I gotta check the pants. For the record, I don't have a hobby of stripping dudes. This is a last resort.

Inner pocket, inner pocket—rip!

"Kyaaak!"

Had she finished eating already? A short scream burst out as I yanked open the guy's pants, but that wasn't important right now. The problem was that the thing I was looking for wasn't there.

I turned to the next target. Please be there this time. Otherwise, I'd have to tear those stink-soaked pants.

Riiiip!

Fuck, where do these bastards keep it—ah, found it.

I turned both thugs' pants into rags before finally getting what I wanted. In my hand was a necklace with a blood-red gem.

This was the reason Donnesia couldn't do shit.

So yeah, it's a curse item. Within 10 meters, anyone level 10 or below can't use skills. The retarded part? It disables skills for the wearer too. Lowbies have to fistfight without skills, but if the opponent hits level 11+, the wearer becomes a punching bag. And it only works up to level 10, so it's useless later. Basically, a device made just to screw over Donnesia. You can feel the creator's bottomless malice.

In my past life, I found it by chance and tossed it immediately. Can't sell curse gear, and without mana, it's a shackle for a physical fighter like her.

But I'm different now. I'm level 1 transcended—a pure level 1 noob on the outside, but packed with level 14 biceps inside. Pure fisticuffs? Bring it.

"Mister, what's that?"

Donnesia approached, pointing at the cursed necklace, her face scrunched up—probably sensing something from it.

"Nothing special."

I stashed it in my inventory. In the game, the curse activated only when worn. Here, it was in a pocket but still worked, so maybe just having it out triggers it in reality.

"Feels better..."

As expected, the curse lifted once it was inside. Donnesia stared at me in wonder, jerky seasoning smeared on her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mouth. She hadn't noticed yet, even though it was obvious. Guess she'd thrown caution to the wind and scarfed it down. Once nobility, trained in propriety above all—yet she'd forgotten it all from hardship. Proof of how rough it'd been.

Typical romance-fantasy heroines get the whole world handing them blessings and opportunities on a platter. But Donnesia? She's the poster child for getting screwed over, battle-hardened by life's bullshit. Until she reaches the Logres Ducal Estate, the world itself gangs up on her. If she were tsundere in a webtoon, she'd be the perfect male lead.

Hmm. To escape Dreamland, you gotta take down the dungeon boss. But there isn't one here. So I'm stuck.

And right next to me is the heroine Donnesia—the one who'd have been CG'd into a bad end if I hadn't shown up. I tore a Dreamland Invitation and warped right before her bad end. Too perfect to be coincidence.

Maybe Dreamland and Donnesia are linked? What if clearing it means escorting her to the Northern Ducal Estate?

That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought hit me from the artbook settings in my head. Dreamland recreates your past as a dream. That's why defeated enemies reappear—you relive episodes, kill the final boss of each, and clear.

If the game turning real adapted Dreamland too, beating Donnesia's episode boss is the key. And this episode has no boss. Clearing means reaching the estate. To beat this damn Dreamland, escort her there. No guarantees, but it's the only way.

Way too late anyway. The estate's probably noticed I'm missing and sent a search party. Bastard son or not, the Northern Duke's kid vanishing is huge. Fucking massive. Alfred's probably losing his mind.

Either they find us, or we reach them. But how to join her party? Her guard's maxed out...

"........."

I pulled jerky from inventory, and her eyes sparkled, fixating on it. Realizing something, she coughed and tried switching back to cool mode. Wipe that sauce first, lady.

I tossed her another piece. She snatched it like a pro.

I pulled out one more. Ignoring her 'til the estate might work, but she could croak en route. I know a shortcut—faster that way. She eyed me, then grabbed the jerky from my hand.

"My name's Dorothy."

Her alias. Her current look's fake too—fallen noble tag's a curse. Ex-nobles are gold goblins to slave hunters, or targets for grudge blades.

Half-sold on jerky, but not fully trusting yet. No point giving my real name; she wouldn't buy "Logres bastard." Plus, impersonating nobility's a capital crime. Sounds dumb for me, but aliases avoid trouble.

Need a decent fake. Oh, that works.

"Quixote. That's my name. Slap 'noble' in front—call me Don Quixote."

"Pfft, what the hell?"

She burst out laughing outta nowhere. Did I say something funny? Didn't think so.

And so, under the tree with jerky in hand, our pact was sealed. The alliance of a fallen noble lady and a runaway bastard dreaming of knighthood was forged. Or so they say.

"Mister, where the hell are we going?"

"Follow and see. Almost there."

"You said that an hour ago."

I get it—that feeling. Ask hikers how far to the summit; they dangle "almost there" hope. After five repeats over an hour, you know you're screwed.

But this time, no lie. A few more steps, and we hit a cave. This is a dungeon. Crucial for Donnesia—like a cultivation opportunity in wuxia.

Her personal power-up hidden piece is inside, flipping tables in her favor. Gotta buff her quick for smoother sailing later.

I fashioned a torch from branches and headed in. Stepping inside triggered the game-like alert confirming it was a dungeon.

Hidden dungeon: Goblin-Occupied Spring. As the name says, goblin central. Mostly level 5s, max 7—generous for farming. Boss around 10.

Deeper in, musty moss and damp air welcomed us. Donnesia didn't blink—used to worse.

And then.

Kekekekekeke.

A creepy laugh echoed from the dark. Pop pop pop—small child-sized bodies, green skin, hooked noses. Fantasy world's cannon fodder: goblins.

First monster face-off, first real fight—heart pounding a bit. Torch in left, iron sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in right, stance set. Told Donnesia to hang back. Gotta show what I can do in this world, and hog the XP.

Goblins charged with laughs, fast. Cave-dwellers, dark-adapted—better night vision than us.

Which means weak to flashbangs. Torch to the face.

Kyeeeeeek!

Goblins recoiled from the sudden light. I didn't miss.

Slash!

Attack power 30 iron sword, but swung with 55 body stat? Devastating. Sickening slice of flesh, feel of the cut. Goblin head rolled across the floor.

Level-up chime confirmed the kill. Killing a life, even a monster's—yet I took it calmly. In the estate, I'd be having an existential crisis: "Who am I?"

But this is a goblin dungeon. Focus on not dying stupidly.

Dodge the rush, counter with Logres Swordsmanship.

Logres Swordsmanship: Jeong, Jung, Cheom, Hwan, Kwae, Yu, Gang, Pae. Eight forms. Western swordplay with hanja names? Don't ask—romance fantasy logic.

Level 1 limits me to Jeong, but plenty for goblins. It's the foundation—all basics, balanced, versatile for any situation.

Overhead chop? Twist, Jeong from shoulder to waist.

Side swing? Grab head, smash wall.

Snag leg, flail like a flail.

Ding! Ding!

Level-up chimes raining. We hit the core—boss room.