Second Semester Finals (17)
The dungeon had been cleared, which meant my quest had failed — and with failure came a penalty.
Yet when I read those words, I felt neither despair nor dejection.
From the moment I'd resolved to protect my pride rather than clear the quest the Chief God had handed me, an ending like this was already written into the script. I'll admit I never imagined the dungeon would be cleared not through the route I'd designed, but by brute force — so my feelings right now were extremely complicated.
Because honestly? Watching my friends grow that strong after pouring in all that effort filled me with genuine delight.
Frey, who could now hold her ground against a boss built around Carl's swordsmanship without giving a single step of ground. Arthur, who flowed seamlessly between vanguard and rearguard, showing everyone exactly what a universal magic swordsman looked like. Phoebe, who layered ordinary arcane knowledge atop her own divine magic and climbed to an entirely higher plane. And Joy, who proved the fruits of her desperate struggle by breaking through a spell I had designed to be unsurvivable.
They had grown far stronger than I'd originally anticipated, and the sight carved a sense of pride deep into my heart.
If only they hadn't used that newfound strength to blow my perfectly crafted dungeon to pieces, I'd be wearing a warm, satisfied smile right now.
...Haaaah.
So what kind of penalty was I getting?
Some humiliating something from back when my sabotage attempts failed? Or a rerun of the bun-nny suit incident? And if not that, maybe I'd be forced to parade around in Lucy's old dresses from the original story?
The more I turned over the past, the more freely came flooding back all the things that perverted lolicon Chief God had tried to bestow upon me. A god who wants to watch His own Apostle get put in her place — and this is the being they call the Chief God? The future of this world is looking awfully dark.
Argh, seriously! Whatever the punishment is, just cough it up already! This is the waiting that drives me crazy! I don't know what's coming, so my brain conjures up every nightmare it can — don't tell me that's the point?! Are you sitting up there enjoying the sight of me fidgeting in my seat?! It genuinely feels like you might be, and that scares me, you sexual delinquent of a god!
"Lady Alrn."
Just as I was venting my revulsion at the pervert god in the privacy of my own skull, the dungeon studies professor pulled her eyes from the screen and spoke.
"Did you account for this manner of clearing as well? It deviates considerably from the intended route."
Obviously I did.
"Why are you asking about something obvious? Tsk. This is what happens when a professor's an idiot."
Of course, what I'd wanted was to see the dungeon's perfect ending through its mechanics — but separate from that, I had designed it to be clearable by force as well. I was, after all, the very person who used to humiliate dungeon designers in every conceivable way back in the day. I knew all too well how wildly creative clearers could get, so there was no way I'd ever assumed everything would flow exactly according to plan.
Naturally, I expected variables — and I'd built contingencies for whatever happened into the design itself. Imagine pouring your heart into clearing something, only to be blocked at the end because the method "wasn't the intended one." Nothing sours the soul faster. I refused to let anyone suffer that in my flawless dungeon.
"How thorough of you."
It's nothing special.
"Calling this 'thorough'? Just how dense is this so-called professor? You're suuuper hopeless."
"Ahaha. I'm the one doing the grading, you see. Hidden routes like this make scoring rather difficult."
With a wry smile, the professor explained what score Arthur's party would receive. Every floor except the fifth had been cleared legitimately, so those scores would stand — but not the fifth. On a floor designed to test mechanical problem-solving, they'd bulldozed straight through while ignoring the gimmick entirely, so officially speaking, their conquest of the fifth floor simply could not be recognized.
"That's why we normally seal progress when the run deviates. It lets the party realize something's wrong and try again properly."
...Uh. Wait a moment. So according to the professor, because I built a separate ending in, those four will never realize they did anything wrong?
"Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but please don't tell them. That would be a falsification of their results."
R-right, of course.
"Hmph. What a meddlesome busybody. No wonder you're well on your way to becoming a wrinkly old biddy."
"...I'm hardly old enough to be called a biddy yet."
While the professor's lips trembled at being told she'd aged, I watched the group at the dungeon's end with wavering eyes — laughing aloud, sharing their joy.
It'll be... fine, right? Even with the deduction, nothing changes that they'll take first place in the dungeon studies exam. What first-year could possibly outscore them?
Right. The outcome stays the same. Which means none of this is my fault.
Ding—!
As the penalty for failing the quest, you must grant the wishes of the dungeon's First Clearers. (Anything.)
The First Clearers would be those four, wouldn't they? Arthur and Joy. Phoebe. Frey.
Pwahahaha! I have no idea what you were scheming, but you picked the wrong penalty, Chief. I've already got a bet running with them, which means I owe them their wishes anyway. A punishment that changes nothing — I win this round!
And here I thought a Chief God so devoted to tormenting me would demand something truly outlandish, and all I get is this? Did calling you the Useless Chief God one too many times actually make you one?
I was snorting at the penalty the Useless Chief God had dealt me — right up until my gaze snagged on that little addendum tacked onto the very end, and my expression froze.
Hold on. Let's think this through. Is it possible the Useless Chief God didn't know about my bet with them?
As if! That creep is a full-blown stalker! This is a god so unhinged it wouldn't surprise me if he peeped while I showered — there's no way he didn't know the terms of the bet!
Which means he issued this penalty with some deliberate intent.
Anything. Whatever they wish for, I must grant it. Forced to, by the terms of the penalty.
...This is an incredibly dangerous punishment.
Think about it! What happens if that right falls into the hands of the Face-Con Fox?! The moment I pictured the fox with its tongue lolling out, I found myself hugging both my arms tight against my chest.
I know, I know. My friends would never make a request as depraved as the fox would. But the world has this nasty habit of never going the way you expect — just look at the dungeon I built! I made a floor that was mechanically impossible to clear, and it got flattened by raw personal force! The words "that defies common sense" mean absolutely nothing at the exact moment common sense shatters!
The instant someone jokes, "Hmm, what a funny idea," and asks for something bizarre — I'm finished. Done for. They're going to obliterate my dignity, and these are the people I call my friends.
THIS is a god?! This is really the centerpiece of the pantheon?! Hey! Gods! Is this acceptable to you?! Are you all fine letting a depraved pervert like this represent you?!
As I shuddered at the sheer viciousness of the Useless Chief God, the conversation Arthur's party was sharing on the screen drifted into my ears.
"We've rested long enough — shall we head out? We should inform Lucy Alrn of our victory."
"Hehe. It seems I'll finally get to fulfill one of my dreams!"
"A dream? Joy. What exactly are you planning to ask of Lucy Alrn?"
Now I'm curious too, Joy! What could you possibly want to ask me that counts as fulfilling a dream?! And why are your cheeks flushing pink while you hesitate over your words?! Don't tell me you've turned into some kind of weirdo like the Face-Con Fox or the pervert Apostle?! Right?! Please say it isn't so!
"Th-that's... surely, Your Highness, you should speak first?"
"Me? Nothing much. I simply intend to make Lucy Alrn kneel and offer a formal apology, that is all."
Arthur explained that unless he forced an apology out of her somehow, that girl would never say a word of contrition in her entire life — so he intended to demand amends for all her usual sniping, her graceless conduct, and her various borderline-bullying behaviors.
The instant he finished, the gaze of the three people looking at him — no, counting me, four people — curdled with contempt.
So that's how it is. You act so magnanimous all the time, and you were keeping a ledger of every single one of them. Petty doesn't even cover it. A small-hearted, pitiful little prince.
"Wh-what?! Do you have any idea how much I've endured from Lucy Alrn? Surely I'm entitled to at least this much!"
"Well, that's true, but..."
"Yes, exactly. You may well want an apology, Your Highness."
"...I will respect that, Your Highness."
"Stop looking at me like that! Do not look at me as though I am pathetic!"
Perhaps realizing the mood could not recover at this rate, Arthur cut himself off mid-sentence, jabbed a finger at Joy, and raised his voice.
"Joy! What do you intend to ask for?! You're staring at me like I'm pathetic, so surely yours will be perfectly normal?!"
"Huh? Huh?! Me?!"
"You spoke first of your own desires, so now it is your turn! Out with it! Quickly!"
"I-it's... that is... I was going to ask the Lady to spend a day out with me in the capital."
Joy stammered her answer under Arthur's relentless interrogation, but the look in his eyes didn't soften in the slightest.
"There is no way that is all! Confess the truth!"
"It's the truth! I just—"
"Joy Partran!"
Cornered far too thoroughly to even think of hiding her fan-flushed face behind it, Joy's eyes darted every which way until, at last, she bowed her head deep and confessed in a voice small enough to crawl into the floorboards.
"I... I was going to ask to dress the Lady up however I pleased, and to ask the Lady to dress me up in return. It's something I've dreamed of for a long time."
...That's it?
She can't even lift her head after finishing, so it must be genuine.
Pffft. Ah. Seriously. That's adorable.
A request like that, I'd grant it without her even needing to ask...
No. Wait just a moment.
Joy is going to be picking out my clothes? Not with anyone's help — personally? You, whose sensibilities are pure maiden-in-love despite that villainess face of yours?
A truly horrifying image flashed through my mind — but mercifully, it failed to take shape. Arthur, belatedly coming to his senses, picked up the thread before it could.
"That is... your dream?"
"Yes. Most noble young ladies find me uncomfortable, you see. They know exactly how trying such a request would be, so who would ever make it?"
"Th-that... is certainly true."
Having pressed the interrogation hoping to unearth a depravity matching his own, only to stumble instead upon pure, girlish innocence, Arthur mumbled at his own words, plainly at a loss for what to say.
"W-well. Anyway. Frey! What is it that you desire?!"
And so, rather than salvaging the moment, he chose to awkwardly change the subject.
Something's wrong here. In the game, Arthur was one of the cool, dignified character archetypes. How on earth did he degenerate into a gag character? Is this my influence too? Did I break something?
"Me?"
"Yes! You, of all people!"
"Let's see. I'm going to ask to be praised. That I did well. That I'm amazing. That I'm a genius. I think that would make me really happy."
The moment I heard Frey say that if I patted her head and said those words to her, her heart would overflow with warmth, I couldn't bear it a second longer and buried my face in both hands.
You're too pure, Frey! Since when have you been such a sweet child, and why are you smiling so softly about it?!
The destructive power of Frey's innocence evidently held sway inside the dungeon as well — Arthur had frozen solid, incapable of even forming the interrogation he'd been planning.
"Everyone?"
Into the silence that followed, Phoebe — who had maintained a spectator's position until now — quietly spoke up.
"Shall we head out? There are people waiting for us outside, after all."
"Ah — yes, quite right. This dungeon drew a great deal of attention. There will surely be crowds waiting for the First Clearers."
Just as Phoebe's soft, even voice was smoothing the whole situation over, Joy abruptly snapped her head up.
As if her embarrassment had overflowed past every limit and curdled into something else, her eyes now blazed with a villainess's venom — fierce enough to make even Frey take a step back.
"And where do you think you're going, slipping away all on your own, Phoebe?"
"Pardon? No, I was only—"
"Speak. Right now. Tell me what you intend to ask of the Lady."
Watching Joy advance one deliberate step at a time, Phoebe went pale and glanced around for help — but Arthur and Frey were already well into retreat.
"Don't touch that one, Frey."
"...Yeah. Looks about right."
Left alone, Phoebe backed away from Joy — but her flight ended the moment her shoulders met the wall.
"How strange. The Phoebe I know was never such a bad person — the sort who'd try to save herself alone."
"Joy? It's really not like that. Even now, so many people are—"
"Are they? Then it should be easy, Phoebe. You can tell me quickly, can't you?"
Phoebe clearly did not want to say a word — but she had no choices left. Joy, who'd had her inner heart laid bare mere moments ago, was well past the reach of reason.
"It's... that is..."
"Come now. Quickly."
"What I wanted to ask was..."
"You did say you couldn't keep people waiting, didn't you?"
"I... I was going to ask you all to say a prayer for meeeee..."
Only after Phoebe, backed into the corner and on the verge of tears, finally confessed the truth did Joy at last wear a satisfied smile.
"There we are. See how much better it is to simply tell the truth from the start?"
...Okay, Lucy, time to ease off on teasing Joy.
She got genuinely furious there — that was flat-out terrifying.
Forget Fear Overcome; I have a feeling I'd be the one whimpering, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."