Lucrative Secrets

Bennett blinked, momentarily doubting his own vision.

Secretly?

What kind of object was this, and why was the system telling him to pocket it without being seen?

"Find anything?" Rose asked, her sudden voice cutting through his thoughts.

Bennett remained completely calm, his expression smooth as he lifted his gaze. "No. Nothing in here."

"Hmm, really?"

She glided over and peeked into the desk, but the drawer held nothing more than assorted debris. Naturally, the mysterious metal artifact had already slipped into Bennett's coat pocket before she drew near.

"Were you looking for something in particular?" Bennett asked mildly.

"Oh, no. It's just that you seemed a bit green when it comes to dungeon diving, so I wondered if you might have overlooked something." After casually scanning the messy drawer, Rose muttered under her breath in disappointment. "There really isn't anything..."

An explosive rush of exhilaration surged through Bennett's core, washing outward through his limbs. This wasn't merely a small trickle of experience points—it came bundled with a full level breakthrough, making the visceral tremor nearly impossible to suppress. He clamped down with all his willpower, yet an involuntary shiver racked his shoulders.

Standing right in front of him, Rose noticed instantly.

"Are you all right? Feeling sick somewhere?"

"...No," Bennett replied evenly. "Just a passing chill."

"Should we rest a bit longer before heading out?"

Her face radiated genuine concern, but Bennett had not forgotten her whispered conversation from earlier.

Wouldn't it be better for us nobles to join forces? Far better than relying on a commoner with no pedigree who could turn on us at any moment.

"I'm fine," Bennett said.

"Don't push yourself unnecessarily. I'll go sort through my pack in the meantime."

"Understood."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Once her watchful eyes turned away, Bennett focused on the translucent window floating before his vision.

Reviewing the descriptions, Bennett's brow knit slightly.

There's really only one viable choice.

Weakness Deduction was bad enough being labeled a mere "deduction," but relying on a coin-flip probability made it utterly reckless. If he activated it in the heat of life-and-death combat and got a flawed read on the 50% failure roll, it would get him killed. Thick Thighs was equally absurd—there was no reason to pick a specific aesthetic trait when he could simply allocate points to Strength.

Select Insight.

Compared to the bare-bones screen he had started with, his profile looked remarkably well-rounded.

"If everyone's ready," Bennett announced, shutting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down the display, "let's get moving."

"Yes, sir!"

Having reaped modest gains in the infirmary, Bennett's party resumed their exploration of the Blocked Prison. Though they already knew the complex was expansive, walking through it firsthand revealed a scale far grander than anticipated. Back in Bennett's homeland, prisons were modest dungeons, but he had never seen a facility designed to house thousands of souls at once. Furthermore, it wasn't merely composed of cell corridors. There were communal courtyards, vegetable gardens, and workshops, all of which demanded considerable time to sweep clean.

Outside the individual cell blocks, the hallways teemed with undead. While not packed as densely as the main dormitories, roving clusters of zombies still posed a severe danger. With two armored knights holding the front line, the party could comfortably tackle several dozen in an open engagement, but mobs numbering in the hundreds were by no means rare. In situations like that, dividing the pack with bait was an absolute necessity.

Clang! Clatter!

Bennett hurled a severed iron rod down a distant corridor, the metallic ring echoing sharply off concrete. A portion of the mob immediately turned toward the sound and shambled after him, peeling away from the main horde.

"Hurry, take them down!"

"We're on it!"

Kyle, Edgar, and Rose moved together, methodically carving through the severed pack. Though the heavy exertion left them panting, their individual combat prowess was formidable, and they brought down the monsters without sustaining a single wound. Yet there was no time to catch their breath. Bennett, having completed his circuit as decoy, emerged around the bend with the remaining horde snapping at his heels.

"Incoming!"

The secondary wave crashed forward, igniting the second bout.

Thwack!

A heavy crossbow bolt drove straight through the forehead of a leaping zombie. Bennett lowered his weapon and scanned the surrounding corridor, confirming that the fallen corpse was indeed the last.

"Looks like we're clear."

"Good work, all of you."

Their next stop brought them to the property storage room. It was a facility where clothing, shoes, and personal effects issued to prisoners had once been kept. Most of the inventory had deteriorated with age, but several intact items remained serviceable.

Emblazoned across two-piece uniforms of vibrant orange were lines of strange Dungeon Language text: [Guseong Private Prison]. Bennett and his comrades couldn't read the script on the fabric, so they simply accepted the bright garments for what they were. What truly bewildered them was something else entirely.

"They handed out clothes and boots? To criminals?" Bennett murmured, tilting his head. Back in the kingdom, such treatment for prisoners was unthinkable.

Yet this strange world operated on entirely different premises. Not only was the facility colossal, but it also boasted dedicated athletic fields and even small libraries for the inmates' leisure. It felt less like a place of brutal penance and more like an organized retreat. Of course, being a man from another realm, it wasn't his place to pass judgment on their customs.

"I had the same thought back at the department store," Kyle commented. "This civilization must have enjoyed absurd material wealth."

"Oh, you mean that pet store for dogs and cats?" Edgar chuckled. "Now that was utterly ridiculous."

The party's attention soon shifted toward the footwear stored on the shelves.

"...Should we pack these?" Edgar scratched his chin. "Feels a bit weird since they belonged to convicts."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

While the garish orange jumpsuits drew too much attention with their bizarre lettering, the boots were a different story. To an outside observer who didn't know their origin, they simply looked like sturdy, unusually designed footwear.

"Let's grab all the boots," Bennett decided. "They're well-made enough for us to wear."

"Me too! Save a pair for me!" Rose chirped, smiling brightly.

"Of course," Edgar agreed with a grin. "Hey, Kyle! Lady Rose wants a pair set aside for her!"

To an outside observer, they looked like an exceptionally harmonious party, but Bennett's mind remained sharply guarded. His wariness stemmed from Rose's persistent behavior over their last few breaks.

Why not join with me instead? Wouldn't it be far better for us nobles to band together?

During every rest interval, Rose had approached Kyle with sweet whispers, pitching the advantages of her planned noble alliance.

Starting from our next run, the party will operate in full force. Naturally, our numbers and overall quality will vastly outshine this modest group. We can bring Edgar along as well—he's a perfectly capable vanguard, after all.

Every one of us comes from a fallen aristocratic house, so our motivation is pure and our skills are proven. We've already recruited a mage and a cleric. Restoring our family names is merely the first step; we have far greater ambitions on the horizon.

Kyle had yet to give her a definitive answer, but from what Bennett could tell, the young swordsman was genuinely weighing the offer. Bennett had feigned sleep while listening, so he hadn't seen Kyle's expression, but put in Kyle's shoes, any noble scion would find the proposition tempting.

Besides, someone of your caliber and myself... I think we could make a wonderful match. Who knows what the future holds? Hehe.

It was hard to say for certain, but Rose appeared to be playing the romantic card as well. She pushed Kyle toward a decision from every conceivable angle, alternating between lavish praise for his talent and subtle, venomous jabs at Bennett's humble origins.

If he decides to go, I'll let him go cleanly, Bennett thought.

Rose's underhanded poaching was obnoxious, but Bennett had no intention of chaining Kyle down against his will. That didn't mean he wouldn't regret losing him; under ordinary circumstances, Kyle and Edgar were dependable comrades. Even so, Bennett had lived long enough to know that trying to hold on to someone whose heart had already wandered never ended well.

Especially within the confines of a dungeon. If suspicion and resentment festered between them, division in such a lethal environment would swiftly turn fatal. A clean parting was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one thing, but internal friction could wipe them all out. For everyone's survival, that worst-case scenario had to be avoided at all costs.

"Shall we move on?"

Without betraying a single trace of his inner calculations, Bennett resumed his duties as party leader. After clearing several more corridors, they arrived at an unfamiliar wing of the facility. The sight that greeted them was a grim tableau of violence: the bodies of another scavenger team lay strewn across the floor, tangled amongst piles of rotting zombie corpses.

Bennett studied the scene closely before silently raising a closed fist.

It was their prearranged signal to freeze. Kyle instantly lowered his stance and crept up beside him.

"Bennett-nim?"

"There's another party operating here," Bennett whispered.

He pointed toward the dead. Though partially obscured beneath the heap of fallen undead, several scavenger corpses had been stripped half-naked. The armor and weapons they should have worn in life were completely gone.

Shifting into high alert, the party carefully scouted the perimeter. Before long, they spotted the culprits not far away: a band of heavily armed mercenaries had established an outpost inside the solitary confinement block.

This doesn't make sense, Bennett mused, squinting through the gloom.

Having navigated the facility, he knew that the vast majority of the prison consisted of communal barracks. Solitary cells were scarce, and in the previous wings they had cleared, those tight stone boxes held nothing of value beyond basic latrines. Why would a unit of veteran, heavily armored mercenaries set up camp in a barren solitary wing where there was nothing to loot?

Watching them through the shadows confirmed they were not taking a rest. Their postures were tense, weapons drawn, scanning their surroundings with rigid discipline.

Which means... there's something hidden in those solitary cells.

After spotting a cloaked mage standing guard among them, Bennett quietly retreated to put distance between them and the mercenaries.

"That's the situation," Bennett explained in a low voice. "I want to hear everyone's thoughts."

"Hmm..." Rose's eyes gleamed with undisguised avarice as she offered a sharp grin. "Doesn't that mean there's something incredibly valuable tucked away in there?"

Kyle arrived at a similar conclusion. "I can't say for certain, but it feels like there might be a hidden installation of some kind."

Even Edgar chipped in with rare, practical insight. "So? What's the play?"

Their gazes crossed in the dim light, and every head nodded in unspoken consensus.

Confirming his party's unanimous resolve, Bennett pushed himself up from his crouch.

"Let's go," he said coldly. "Time to make some money."