The Stage Is Mine
Watching Joy stand surrounded by a swarm of admirers as the dungeon's First Clearer, Jeff smiled to himself.
Her fan pressed to her lips, insisting it had been nothing at all, that anyone carrying the blood of House Partran should be able to manage at least this much — she carried herself with all the elegance befitting a Duchess's daughter. But Jeff, who had known Joy since they were children, had a fairly good guess about what her expression looked like behind that fan.
Being showered with praise from all sides made her absolutely delighted.
However you cut it, this was a girl who loved being complimented.
She'd be finding the admiring gazes around her terribly embarrassing, and at the same time, struggling desperately to hold back a smug little smile.
As he watched her fondly, Jeff thought he'd been wise to pretend he hadn't noticed the dungeon's gimmick.
What if I'd cluelessly told the Second Prince about the dungeon's puzzle? What if Joy had lost the title of First Clearer to me because of it?
She would have blamed me, without a doubt.
"Big brother! I really hate you!" — picturing Joy shouting exactly that, Jeff clutched his chest as though his heart might tear in two and sent up yet another round of applause for his own good decision.
"You."
Jeff turned at the voice beside him and found Cecil, watching his younger half-brother with an unreadable expression.
The strongest emotion radiating from that face was, as ever, envy and jealousy.
The only difference from the old Second Prince who'd spat venom at everyone because he couldn't control his temper, perhaps, was that now it carried a thread of genuine acknowledgment for his rival.
The old Second Prince would have raised his voice and shouted that it was impossible. Had he finally learned to master his emotions?
What could possibly have changed a man Jeff had assumed would stay the same until the day he died?
I'll have to revise my assessment of the Second Prince. I thought he was a man with no reason to ever get close to, but he seems worth exploiting now, at the very least.
Snatching the throne still looked impossible, but keeping a loose connection or two around couldn't hurt.
"Your Highness, the Second Prince."
"What is it."
"Shall we return to the dungeon soon?"
Time to start letting on that we're catching on to the gimmick.
"You may have lost the title of First Clearer for the entire year, but there's still glory left to claim, isn't there?"
By feeding him clues one at a time, Jeff would make it clear how useful he could be — and plant the seed of a debt in the prince's mind.
"You needn't tell me. I intend to keep challenging it regardless. I've invested far too much in that place to give up now."
"Haha. Forgive me, I've said something unnecessary."
It was a shame not to get to watch Joy preen a little longer, but there were things that needed doing now.
Besides, the brat was bound to come trotting over later to brag that she'd beaten him, so he could just enjoy how cute she looked then — no, actually, that wasn't enough.
My Joy's adorable face never gets old, no matter how much of it I see!
Ah. Damn it. Maybe I should suggest we rest a little longer? Stall for time on the excuse that I might let a clue slip?
Unfortunately, Jeff wasn't given time to tease him.
Before he could say another word, Cecil rose from his seat, and Jeff could only trail after him, lamenting that the Second Prince had become uselessly diligent.
"As expected of Lady Partran. She accomplishes what we wouldn't even dare attempt, as though it were only natural."
"Oh, come now. Didn't you chase right on Lady Partran's heels yourself, Lady Rumley?"
"That's right! Until partway through, it was impossible to say which of you would pull ahead!"
"Ohohoho. It was merely good fortune, I assure you."
As the young noblewomen gathered in the center of some courtyard exchanged false smiles and toasted each other's friendship, a few steps behind them, Toby stood watching and repeatedly stopped himself from taking a step forward, sighing instead.
To re-enter the dungeon, I have to approach Lady Rumley and convince her.
But I have absolutely no confidence in wedging myself into that circle.
I'd have to shoulder my way between them, weather those looks of contempt, and beg for Lady Rumley's time!
Maybe I should just wait for a better chance?
Bide my time until Lady Rumley was alone.
No. That won't work.
There was barely any time left before the exams ended. In a situation where every minute and every second counted, he couldn't afford that kind of leisure.
To get inside and confirm whether what I've been turning over in my head is right or wrong, I have to persuade Lady Rumley as quickly as possible!
Torn between self-preservation and his hunger to crack the dungeon, Toby finally steeled himself and moved.
"Who... is that?"
"Oh, I remember. He's the commoner who went into the dungeon with Lady Rumley."
"Why is a boy who only rode on Lady Rumley's coattails even here?"
Steadfastly ignoring the sniping voices of the noblewomen, Toby pressed on until he stood before Avery.
"What is it, Toby?"
"Lady Rumley. There is something I must tell you. Might I have a moment of your time?"
"Is this about the dungeon? Because if so, I believe I've already made my position clear."
Right. Avery had already declared to Toby that she had no intention of delving any deeper into the dungeon.
Along with a thoroughly unladylike complaint that she couldn't take another minute of the grind.
"You've forgotten already? It hasn't even been a few days."
"No. I haven't forgotten."
"Then you know my answer remains the same."
So it comes to this after all. Toby, who remembered vividly how Avery had shuddered back then, had fully expected her refusal.
And of course, he'd prepared a way to turn that refusal into a yes.
"Then I suppose I'll simply have to ask her for help instead."
"...Her? You mean—"
"Yes. You know exactly who."
Toby had scraped through life in a mercenary company before enrolling as a special-admissions student; his ties to the aristocracy were practically nonexistent.
Setting aside his father, it remained true that Toby personally knew not a single noble.
So if a man like that declared, just as boldly, that he intended to ask someone for help, there was obviously only one person it could mean.
Lucy Aln.
Eldest daughter of the Marcher Lord's house, and the top-scoring first-year at Soul Academy.
A name everyone in the Academy knew — and, for reasons Toby couldn't quite fathom, the one person Avery could never work up her nerve against.
"Haaah. Fine. Let's talk somewhere private."
Having caught the meaning behind his words, Avery shrugged as if she had no choice — but the hand she'd hidden beneath the table was trembling.
After the cluster of noblewomen shot Toby a few final barbed glares and drifted away, leaving him alone with Avery — right around the point where he became certain his father would beat him half to death over the vacation — Avery abandoned all pretense of noble composure. Resting her chin in her hand, she fixed him with eyes gone sour.
"You've come to ask me to go back into the dungeon with you, haven't you."
"Yes. There's something I need to confirm."
"You certainly are the curious sort."
Avery drawled out the jab, heaved a long sigh, and then added,
"I do thank you, you know. It's true that you're the reason we made it as deep into the dungeon as we did — even if circumstances forced us together thanks to Lady Aln."
Without Toby, Avery's party would never have even reached Floor 0, let alone contended for the lead.
Young ladies raised in the inner sanctums of noble houses, starved of real combat experience — how could they have climbed high?
On that point, at least, Avery's gratitude was genuine.
"But here's the thing. That's our limit. A party without the raw strength of the Third Prince's simply can't go any higher."
Even cloistered noble daughters weren't without ambition.
The praise of those around them. The envious glances. The honor of competing against the truly great.
Spurred on by thoughts of all the stories she'd trade in society later, Avery had rallied her companions and thrown herself into the dungeon — until she'd botched several of her other exams from sheer exhaustion.
But effort had its limits.
Even with Toby, who knew the dungeon so well, the simple fact remained that their party's abilities fell short of the other frontrunners.
While the others raced ahead, Avery and her party had been left battering themselves against a wall, circling in place, until at last they gave up on clearing it.
"You know it best of anyone. Even if we go back in, nothing will change."
Because she owed Toby. And because Lucy stood behind Toby.
Avery had meant to reason with him gently and send him on his way, but Toby simply shook his head, firm, after hearing her out completely.
"No. Things will change. Because if I'm right, clearing that dungeon doesn't require strength at all."
"...I'm sorry?"
"Allow me to explain. Then you can decide whether to enter the dungeon or not."
At first Avery thought he was spouting nonsense — but the longer Toby talked, the more life kindled in her eyes, and by the time he finished, Avery was insisting they enter the dungeon that very moment.
And the next day.
The morning of the final day of the Academy's term exams.
Avery's party cleared the dungeon — second among the first-years, and third across all grades, right behind Cecil's party.
The moment I saw Arthur's party come out of the dungeon, I made straight for them.
A punishment is scariest before you receive it, and once it's over, it's never as bad as you feared, right?
I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible and put my mind at ease — but alas, the world does not bend to my wishes.
'I'll tell you about that after the finals are over.'
'Better to do it when we have time to spare.'
'I'm sorry, my lady. Please wait just a little longer.'
'I'm fine doing it right now, though. Oh — you don't want anyone noticing? Mmhm. Got it. I'll keep quiet.'
And so I found myself awaiting the punishment that would arrive once the finals ended.
Please, just let whatever they're hoping for stay the same until the exams are done.
A day passed, shadowed by the gnawing worry that the four of them might change their minds and demand something truly depraved — and then, around noon, the moment the Academy's final exams concluded, I went looking for the Dungeon Studies professor at the examination grounds.
Perhaps because the exam had ended mere moments ago, the site was in absolute chaos.
Students clinging to the teaching assistants, begging them — we think we've figured it out, just give us one more chance. Students pulling miserable faces, insisting their failure was already a done deal. Students clawing at their own hair, moaning that at this rate they'd never be able to talk back to a single word I said. Students gazing at the dungeon entrance in wistful silence.
That was only a fraction of it — countless Academy students wearing every emotion on their sleeves, and the uproar they generated was enormous.
Even when I showed myself, not a single soul mulling around the exam site noticed.
"My, my. What a disaster."
The Dungeon Studies professor gave a wry smile and moved to spread a volume-boosting amplification spell before himself to calm the crowd — but I blocked him.
"Don't bother with useless things, you oblivious self-proclaimed professor."
From this very moment, this stage is mine.
I've got a whole lot of stress to burn off teasing these losers who couldn't even find the dungeon's gimmick, so don't you dare steal my role.
"Understood. By all means, go ahead."
Confirming that the professor had taken a step back, I concentrated my Divinity into my throat.
An application of body reinforcement. Who knew the day would come when I'd put a technique I'd prepared specifically for taunting people to use like this?
"Over here, you losers!♡"
Now then, one step at a time, I'll explain exactly how to clear this dungeon.
Everyone, be so kind as to sit down, shut up, and listen gratefully.