Mysteries of the Isis Underground
As I stepped out, a strange thrill washed over me—like entering some grand, ominous place straight out of a book or a foreign museum's underground dungeon. What was this feeling? It was like going from playing slave games at a folk village to touring a European castle as a tourist. For once, I was on a proper fantasy adventure, exploring like it was straight out of a game. Huffing with excitement, nostrils flaring, I poked and prodded every inch, wondering if there might be some hidden mechanism lurking somewhere.
"If this really is under the Isis Territory, it kinda makes sense."
Not just any rich bastard's mansion basement—this was the Isis family's underground. Thinking about it, they probably never even considered building an escape route. They were a prestigious knight family, after all. Even my cute little sow Sylvia had gripped a sword since childhood, and her mother Veronica was the same. Kids here knew how to wield blades well enough to slice a goblin in half without breaking a sweat. And they were all knights to boot. That meant the family didn't need to run from anything—they were built to stand and fight.
"They say it breaks before it bends."
Just like my cock! So no need for a bunker or shelter. That much was clear. What really bugged me was why a proud knight family like this had a hidden dungeon that even the next lord, Sylvia—or hell, maybe even the current head, Veronica—didn't know about.
"Goju will figure that out."
Everything else aside, those torture tools showed no rust. I focused my search around them, hoping they'd reveal something. I didn't need to know who used them for fun, who got wrecked by them, or who rotted in the cells—just why they were here, and why this facility existed underground. Knowing that would let me rest easy with the previous owners. It was mine now, after all.
Running my hands along the walls, pondering the mysteries while my heart raced from just being here, how long had I been climbing this spiral staircase?
"…"
The endless-seeming stairs ended abruptly at a blank wall. But since I'd already convinced myself this was a secret space, suddenly everything invisible to the normal eye jumped out at me. I felt like a damn detective. Scrutinizing the walls for clues to the puzzle of this secret door (presumed), I spotted them.
"These scrape marks on the floor."
The fan-shaped wear where stone slabs had ground against each other turned my presumed secret door into a confirmed one. My theory that something lay beyond this stone wall now had solid backing. But no lever in sight to pull it open—maddening.
So I scanned for a button or switch instead. No lever, but a weird hole. Jackpot! Convinced this mystery hole was the "button" to open the door, I went to stick my finger in—
"Fuck."
My finger was too thick. And this hole? Even if I weren't an orc, no way it'd fit. It was tiny—way too small. Forget orcs; a human man might barely squeeze a pinky in. Whoever designed this meant for someone with smaller hands: a human woman, specifically.
"Wait… does that mean…?"
Secret door: check. Hole to open it: check. Men can't fit: check. Women can: check. This facility ties to the Isis family matriarchs: hypothesis 1.
Secret door: check. Only women can open it: check. Isis heads are women: check. They have the power to build this in their own home: check. Made by an Isis matriarch for some purpose: hypothesis 2.
But hypothesizing forever wouldn't nail it down. Combining them: this place is deeply tied to the Isis matriarchs, unknown to anyone else. So why didn't next-in-line Sylvia mention it? According to Goju, she came to the sewers via a manhole in a residential area by the main road. When there's a dungeon connected right under her house? Really?
"How do you not know about shit in your own damn home?"
She doesn't know… about her own house… It sounded absurd, but if true? Even as heir, maybe Veronica never told her. Or maybe Veronica didn't know either? That could explain the facility's dilapidated state. Some ancient builder used it for their purposes, then died without passing it on—forgot, didn't want to, whatever.
"Wouldn't leave it in documents or blueprints."
Secret facilities like this get handed down mouth-to-mouth, not on paper, to avoid leaks. So if it got skipped for some reason, later matriarchs forgot it existed.
"Whatever—main issue is I can't open this door."
Should I go grab Goju? Right then—rumble rumble rumble—the door before me vibrated and began sliding open slowly.
What the hell? I'd just been thinking no one knew about this place anymore, striking poses like a badass solo, and now someone shows up? If they saw me!
More importantly, who? Who's opening it?
If it was Veronica behind there, my grand plans were dead before they started. Light streamed in from outside as the door creaked wider. I crouched in sprinter's stance, ready to pounce.
But as it opened, a familiar face peeked through the gap—sapphire hair, emerald eyes…
"Daddy? It really is you! I knew it! My female instincts told me you were close, so I had a hunch!"
My daughter Snow White Grizzly's entrance made me flop back with a huge sigh of relief. She barreled into my arms like it was the best thing ever, reeking of the sewers' musty funk. But having grown up in a house thick with that cloying night-bloom scent, she didn't care—nuzzling right in.
"Snuuuuuff—such a thick male scent~♥"
Damn AC, I got spooked for nothing.
"You open this?"
The secret door yawned wide. Did Snow do it from outside, or did I trigger something? I asked carefully.
"Yup! I pressed something and it opened! Oh! And lookie here! Human mansions are wild! So much stuff everywhere!"
Still rubbing her face on me, she popped her head up excitedly, yanked me to my feet, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out.
The space she led me to was a warehouse. Fine porcelain and sculptures everywhere—it looked more like a museum or gallery.
"With all this dust? What museum? Fancy-ass storage, that's all."
"?"
I felt nothing for pottery or gaudy decor, but Snow—seeing such finery for the first time—gawked like a kid in an art gallery.
"So how'd you open that door?"
"Oh, that!"
Beaming, she towed me beside the open door to a grotesque goblin painting on the wall.
"Eww, nasty-looking thing."
"Why? It's cute."
"?"
Worried about my daughter's taste for a sec, I eyed the title under the wide-mouthed goblin with razor teeth:
— Curiosity Sometimes Beckons Death —
"Stuck my finger in the goblin's mouth and something clicked!"
"…"
Thank god my kid couldn't read yet? She jammed her finger in again—click—and the door started closing.
"Do all human houses have secret switches in paintings?"
"Nah, that's just 'cause we're—"
About to hit her with the harsh truth that we're gutter rats, then—
Thud thud
Footsteps! Human ones. Two sets.
— …so …try …
— Yes… …do …
Muffled, but one voice was familiar: Sylvia. So the other…
"G-Grandma!"
"What?!"
Why the hell are they coming here?!