The Irresistible Reward -1-

To take the exam, we descended into the dungeon. Yuria and Mikhail, paired up as a team of two, pressed forward, illuminating the dark dungeon with magic.

Moss covered everything around us, and the walls bore scars of past battles. A chill ran down my spine. The professor had said safety personnel were stationed throughout the dungeon, but the oppressive weight of the place was hard to shake off.

Yuria hugged her shoulders against the eerie feeling as she headed toward the deeper levels. This exam was different from the usual ones—it focused on real combat. We were given orb-shaped artifacts in advance; putting monster parts like orc ears into them would raise our scores. To get high marks, we had to hunt multiple monsters, including higher-grade ones.

Low-level monsters like skeletons that anyone could kill drew crowds of students and gave few points, so Mikhail and I were diving deeper to take down tougher ones.

Yuria showed the artifact in her hand to Mikhail. "You got the artifact safe?"

"Yeah. It's tucked in my pocket."

Mikhail nodded. The round, orb-like artifact played a crucial role. It handled scoring and doubled as an emergency signal to call safety personnel. We had to keep it safe.

Aiming for top of the year, Mikhail and Yuria descended toward the deeper levels. As they went down the stairs to the heart of the dungeon, Mikhail spoke quietly beside her.

"Yuria."

"Yeah?"

Mikhail hesitated for a moment. He seemed to wrestle with what to say before finally opening his mouth. He'd looked off for the past week. Is this related?

I felt a twinge of worry about what Mikhail might say. He intensified the 'Light' spell illuminating their path and said,

"Actually, I ran into Ricardo a week ago."

"Huh?"

Yuria froze. A familiar name had come from Mikhail's mouth. A name he never uttered. One he didn't dare say ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even at the academy. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yet here Mikhail was, saying it outright.

Stunned, she looked at him, but Mikhail's expression barely changed. He just kept descending the stairs matter-of-factly. Yuria asked again,

"You ran into Ricardo?"

Mikhail nodded. "Yeah. Bumped into him while taking a dawn stroll."

"During a stroll?"

"Yeah, he was in some alley, harassing folks from the slums."

"Alley...?"

The word "alley" made Yuria stop in her tracks. Drip. A water droplet gathered from the ceiling's moisture fell on her face, but she didn't flinch.

She sank into thought. 'Alley,' he said?

Alley. That place where she'd nearly been dragged off by thugs... Is that what he means?

A ridiculous thought crept in. What if Ricardo went to that alley because of me?

Her heart pounded foolishly. 'Why am I like this?'

Yuria clutched her chest where her heart raced. The dungeon's cool breeze felt strangely hot. 'Nah, no way.'

Mikhail's deep sigh snapped her out of it. "He's the same as ever, that guy."

His disgust was palpable even here. "Feral as a mad dog, just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as brutal and cruel as before."

"...Yeah?"

Mikhail's words barely registered. Her head filled with delusions like 'Nah... no way.'

She definitely hated Ricardo. Yet thinking of him strangely flushed her cheeks. She'd surely explode in anger and hurl insults if they met. But he kept popping into her idiot mind, those memories driving her mad.

Like when he'd saved her in the mountains.

-Close your eyes.

Or in the alley when he'd helped.

-Don't breathe. You're fouling the air.

Those moments flickered relentlessly in her head. She still hated him. He bullied her for no reason. He was always there at every incident. He'd even locked her in a wardrobe to torment her. Yet he kept coming to mind.

Mikhail glanced at her and said, "Yuria. Your face is red—are you sick?"

"Ah... No! I'm fine."

Yuria fanned her face to cool the heat. 'I'm losing it...'

A brief silence followed. The awkward topic of Ricardo hung between them, making both react stiffly.

Mikhail said to her, "What do you think of Ricardo, Yuria?"

An odd question. "Me?"

Flustered, she looked at him, but Mikhail's earnest eyes waited steadily for her answer. Without much thought, she told him. It felt sticky, but she still hated Ricardo.

Grateful as she was, the academy bullying left a deep scar in her heart. The betrayal of being tormented by someone she trusted was indescribable.

With an awkward smile, she said to Mikhail, "I hate him. Most in the world."

"Good."

Mikhail's tense face relaxed.

We headed deeper into the dungeon. We encountered skeletons and ghouls—undead monsters—but their weakness to our affinities made short work of them. The scoring artifact beeped as points climbed.

We'd racked up enough for top ranks, but it was still short. Ruin and the crown prince's team were powerhouses. With a bet that the top team buys dinner at the academy, Yuria burned with competitive fire.

The deeper we went, the heavier the air against our skin—cold and thick. Monster growls echoed from all sides, and battle scars marred the walls more prominently. Deep gouges, brown crusted bloodstains everywhere.

Yuria hugged her shoulders at the creepy vibe. Even with the safety artifact, fear was fear.

But the points were piling up...! At this rate, first place. A scholarship from the academy seemed certain. Her wallet would finally fatten up after so long—she was starting to feel good—

"Help...!"

A man's voice echoed from a dungeon corner. Mikhail and Yuria stopped hunting and looked toward the sound. Same thought: Let's check it out.

We moved without hesitation, but Ricardo's recent words flashed in her mind.

-Don't meddle.

Yuria shook her head to clear the distraction. What good does remembering what he says do? He's a liar who always deceives—ignoring his advice would just hurt me, but still...

Her feet wouldn't move. Unease gripped her. Something felt off. Ricardo's offhand warnings usually tied to horrors.

"Let's go." Mikhail urged her hesitant self.

"..."

"Yuria?"

"Y-yeah!"

Yuria shook off her thoughts and headed toward the sound. After two alleys... Beside the stairs descending further into the depths lay a man in familiar clothes, collapsed.

Black long coat. White shirt. Blood pooled around him ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the floor amid fierce battle traces—cuts large and small, and a palm-sized dagger plunged into his chest.

"Wha...?"

Familiar outfit. From the Hamel Mountains, during the group project with Ruin—the heretic priest's robes.

Yuria's hands trembled. She didn't know what to do. Her heart screamed to save him, but instinct rebelled. Treating this man felt wrong—her heart pounded wildly at the thought.

The man on the floor groaned in agony, urging her on. "Help me... Can't... breathe..."

He gripped the dagger in his chest, sweating coldly, thrashing. Conflicting emotions froze her—save him, don't save him.

As she stood dumbly agonizing, Mikhail grabbed and shook her shoulder. "Yuria! Snap out of it!"

"Huh? Uh..."

"What are you doing? Heal him quick!"

-Don't meddle.

Those words echoed vividly today. She'd have healed without thought normally, but now...

With a trembling voice, Yuria said, "B-but... he's a heretic."

Mikhail replied urgently, "Heretic or not, we save lives!"

Seeing her frozen, Mikhail sighed and propped the man's shoulder, sprinkling potion. The academy-issued treatment potions—two per student, expensive and perfect for first aid.

Mikhail supported him, apparently abandoning the exam to head up. As he hoisted him...

A sinister voice whispered in Mikhail's ear. "Yes... save me."

-Stab.

The man plunged the chest dagger into Mikhail's gut. Squelch. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Gurk. Mikhail's eyes quivered.

The man snatched Mikhail's pocket potion and applied it to his own chest wound. It knit rapidly.

Exhaling long, he straightened with a grotesque grin at the blood-vomiting Mikhail. "Whew~ Thought I was done for. You bought it? Thanks a ton, saints...!"

Hiss... Mikhail clutched the gut dagger, dragging his legs backward. He tried to flee but collapsed to his knees from the deep stab.

Yuria rushed to the fallen Mikhail. "Mikhail!!"

Mikhail gasped to her, "Run, Yuria..."

Yuria poured healing magic into his gut. Bright green light enveloped him; his breathing stabilized. Relief washed over her—but

"A healer, huh."

The man behind reached out. His bloodied hand loomed, blocking her view—swelling gigantic in terror, thick blood dripping onto her face.

"Ah... ah...!"

Fear paralyzed Yuria. She stood like an idiot, speechless until he grabbed her.

"Stop!"

Mikhail yelled, drawing his sword and swinging at the heretic. A fine strike, but a dull thud rang out—thump. Mikhail slumped, head bowed.

"Perfect. Needed a healer anyway." The man grinned sinisterly at her. "Don't say no. Hate to cut those pretty fingers."

Spitting creepy words, the heretic dragged her into the dungeon depths. With shaking hands, she crushed the hidden artifact in her bosom—the knight-summoning orb.

But "Kyaa!"

On the stairs to the depths, gasping knights lay bleeding. At one's feet, an escape scroll lay torn, ineffective.

Yuria trembled like a leaf. What do I do... What do I do... What now...

No escape. Eyes darkened at the thought of horrors ahead.

"Let go!!"

Yuria struggled. "Leeeaave meee!!"

She thrashed against his rough grip, but he raised his hand threateningly. "Shut it?"

Whoosh. As his hand swung down—

"You... hopeless bastards."

A familiar voice echoed. One that shouldn't be in these depths rang out as if waiting.

"Because of you...!"

The man wailed. Like a child denied a dream, fists clenched, speaking to us vanished into shadow.

"Couldn't bathe with the lady..."

Fwoosh. Red haze spread, blurring his face. Red-haired man. Ricardo.

Ricardo looked at us. "Wouldn't have come if not for the reward... Shit.."