The Royal Medical Clinic was quite different from what most people imagined. There were no patients rushing in, and it lacked the somber atmosphere that usually accompanied death in a hospital for the elderly.

"Professor, shouldn't we be closing soon?"

The head nurse subtly nudged Professor Matilda Weaving. Although there were still thirty minutes left in the clinic's operating hours, there were no more patients to be treated, nor were any expected. Professor Weaving didn’t rush, but she understood the desire of her staff to clock out quickly and spend time with their friends, lovers, or families.

"...Alright. Let them know they can start preparing to leave."

As a medical officer, she'd never experienced such boredom.

Weaving sighed privately. After becoming entangled with the Benning family, the academy began pressuring her. Pierre and the medical officer had no choice but to resign before things grew more complicated.

Their resignations hadn’t exactly "cleaned up" everything, though.

Weaving sighed again, picking up her habitual pipe. The clinic was bustling with the usual end-of-day commotion. She rubbed the deep shadows under her eyes irritably, draping her lab coat over her arm.

Then, the bustling stopped suddenly.

"Huh?"
"Ah..."

There were simultaneous murmurs of surprise and disappointment. Weaving paused, slipping her coat back on and settling into her chair.

"Should I lock the doors?"
"No, leave them open."

The head nurse nodded before stepping out to greet the incoming patient. Weaving caught sight of the person just before the nurse stepped into the hallway—a platinum-haired woman, her hair recently cut short. Her tiny, doll-like face and beauty were unmistakable to anyone who had ever known her.

The pipe Weaving had been holding slipped from her hand.

What is she doing here?

"Where are you feeling unwell?"

Weaving could faintly hear the nurse's voice from outside. Her eyes remained fixed on Teodora. It seemed she was limping.

"Is Professor Weaving in?"

The nurses exchanged glances and then furtively glanced toward Weaving's office. Teodora, noticing the stares, naturally shifted her gaze toward the door, meeting Weaving's eyes.

Their gazes locked in the air.

Weaving rose from her seat as casually as possible, though her movement was awkward.

"...Teodora."

Weaving opened the door and stepped out, calling her name. Up close, Teodora’s expression was not a pleasant one. Weaving felt a weight on her chest as she approached.

"Medical officer."

Teodora’s voice hadn’t changed in the past three years—cool on the surface but laden with buried emotions.

Weaving didn’t know why Teodora had come, but past events flashed through her mind, making her heart race.

When Weaving said nothing, Teodora spoke first.

"May I ask for treatment?"

She gestured to her leg. Weaving's eyes followed her hand and saw Teodora’s broken leg.

"Let’s go to the treatment room first."

Weaving gently took Teodora by the wrist and led her into the room. Teodora didn’t resist and followed quietly.

"It’s been a while, Teodora. Feeling nostalgic? Where did you get that injury?"

Teodora gave a sheepish smile.
"Being a knight is a dangerous job."

Weaving frowned slightly at her response.
"Have a seat and stretch out your leg."

Weaving gestured to the examination bed in the corner. As Teodora sat down, Weaving gathered mana in her hands, as naturally as she always did, and began her examination.

"...It seems like it was a severe fracture."

Weaving clicked her tongue. "Severe" was an understatement. The bone had been twisted and nearly shattered into pieces. It was a miracle it hadn’t fragmented completely.

"What on earth did you do to get it this bad?"

Teodora smiled faintly.
"I fell from a great height."
"A cliff, perhaps?"

Weaving grumbled as she removed her hand from Teodora's leg.

"The healing is progressing well. Either the initial treatment was excellent, or a skilled mage or healer treated you."

Teodora nodded quietly. Weaving’s hand once again glowed faintly with a soft green light.

"I’ll give it a final boost. You’ll be fully recovered within three days—no need for follow-up visits. I’ll just stabilize it with a bit of mana."

Weaving gently infused her mana into the injured area, and Teodora began to feel the faint ache in her broken bones gradually fade.

Of course, this wasn’t the only reason Teodora had come to the clinic. She decided it was time to broach the real topic.

"Medical officer."

"I’m not a medical officer anymore. You can call me Professor Weaving. Though if we’re being formal, I should probably call you 'Lady Benning'..."

Weaving smirked, though Teodora forced a smile in response.

"Then, Professor."
"Yes, Teodora?"
"Why did you resign?"

Weaving stiffened at the question. Teodora’s eyes darkened, and Weaving slowly lifted her head, studying the young woman’s face as if trying to read her thoughts.

Finally, Weaving spoke.

"You didn’t know."

Teodora frowned. 'You didn’t know.' The implication was that she should have. This had something to do with her family.

"What happened? Why did you and Instructor Pierre...?"
"We were pressured."

It was a short response, but Teodora could already piece together what had likely happened in her mind.

"My father... no, Count Leon Benning. What did he do?"

But the answer she received was different from what she had expected.

"...It was three years ago."

Weaving sighed deeply.

"I don’t know exactly what the count wanted."

Weaving’s tone was resolute. Teodora’s expression soured. She decided to ask directly.

"Was it related to the injuries Maxim sustained?"
"What exactly are you trying to uncover?"

Weaving’s expression changed as if her memories had been stirred. She looked startled by her own nervous reaction.

"...I’m sorry, Teodora. I know you and Maxim were close, but I can’t tell you much."

But Weaving’s reaction confirmed something for Teodora.

"...So it was related to Maxim."

"I can’t be certain."

Weaving was evasive. Teodora sensed the professor’s reluctance and realized she couldn’t press further.

"Do you know where Instructor Pierre is?"
"Pierre..."

Weaving hesitated before responding. She bit her lip, looking troubled.

"Teodora, are you trying to investigate this personally?"

Teodora nodded.

"Yes. I won’t tell anyone..."

Weaving furrowed her brow. The fact that the Benning family had kept Teodora in the dark was now becoming clear.

Weaving looked into Teodora’s stormy gray eyes.

"Pierre was under surveillance by the Benning family for quite some time."

"For what reason...?"

Teodora stopped herself. Her thoughts began swirling uncontrollably. Weaving glanced around the room, as if checking for any sign of danger. Teodora watched her carefully. The professor’s hands were trembling with fear.

"Professor?"

Weaving stood up and closed the door to the examination room. When she turned back around, her expression was filled with anxiety. Her lips had turned pale from being bitten so hard.

"...You’re right. Things got strange after Maxim was brought to the infirmary."

"You mean after the final exams...?"
"No, it wasn’t the exams. The injuries from that wouldn’t have been life-threatening."

Teodora’s eyes widened in confusion.

"What...?"
"After the exams, Maxim collapsed and was carried in on Pierre’s back."

Maxim collapsed?

Teodora was visibly shocked by this story she hadn’t heard before.

"He collapsed...? Why...?"
"We couldn’t check properly. He had coughed up so much blood that his entire uniform was soaked."

Clench.

Teodora gripped the bedsheet tightly.

"Blood..."
"We thought it might be internal damage. Usually, such vomiting of blood can only be caused by internal injuries from mana overuse. At the time, we thought maybe he’d just pushed himself too hard... Until Count Benning suddenly arrived at the infirmary."

Teodora’s eyes shook.

"My father... the Count came to the academy?"

"He sent Pierre and me away, saying he wanted to speak with Maxim privately."

Weaving sighed as she watched Teodora’s cold, hardening gaze.

"What happened? What happened in there?"

"I don’t know. I was outside the room, so I couldn’t tell you for sure. But after that, both Pierre and I were pressured to resign, which happened after you all graduated."

Weaving hugged her arms.

"After the resignation orders were given, professors from the Tower approached me, asking if I wanted to work with them."

Weaving’s voice trembled slightly.

"I refused. As for what happened to Pierre after that... only he would know."

Weaving gently pushed Teodora’s hands away from her own. Teodora let go without resistance, her strength fading as she withdrew her hands. Weaving finally answered one of Teodora’s most pressing questions.

"Pierre isn’t in the capital anymore."

It seemed that Weaving had decided she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"He went through some kind of change and quit being a knight entirely. He said he’d become an adventurer instead of being tied down."

Teodora quietly absorbed Weaving’s words.

"You should visit the adventurer's guild in the capital. He might be there."

Weaving picked up her pipe. Teodora didn’t respond. She simply nodded, stood up, and left. Inside her head, confusion and the harsh realities of the situation spun in a whirlwind.

"I’m sorry, Teodora," Weaving murmured as Teodora’s retreating figure staggered out of the room.

Teodora gently shook her head.

"It’s alright."

By the time Teodora turned back, her face had drained of all color. Weaving watched her with a sense of pity as she left.

"Teodora, maybe it’s better to let it go."

Weaving knew Teodora wouldn’t hear her, but she made the suggestion anyway.

"I still have to know," Teodora whispered.

Weaving sighed, understanding what Teodora meant.

"If the Count hasn’t told you, perhaps it’s something you shouldn’t know."

Weaving’s voice faded, as if trying to avoid discussing the Count any further.

"Benning..."

Teodora whispered softly to herself. Benning. Her father. What had he done? And how deeply was she involved?

"...It doesn’t matter now," she muttered.

"Teodora."

Weaving reached out, grabbing Teodora’s wrist. But this time, Teodora gently grasped her hand and pushed it away.

"I’m fine."

Teodora’s voice was firm as she opened the door. The hinges groaned in protest.

"Maybe I blamed you more than I realized," Weaving muttered softly.

Teodora paused, then looked back at Weaving, who smiled sadly.

"It wasn’t your fault."

"...Thank you."

The door closed. Like a wild animal walking into a trap, Teodora limped out of the clinic.

==

The carriage rattled to a halt, as if mirroring Teodora’s own uneasy heart. The Adventurer's Guild, with its grand sign, was located in an ominous alleyway lit by flickering lanterns.

"Are you sure you want to go in there?"

The coachman was nervously glancing around. The back alleys of the capital at dusk had a sinister atmosphere that sent chills down one’s spine.

"Go ahead and leave. I’m not sure how long I’ll be."

Teodora stepped out of the carriage without hesitation. The coachman gaped and waved his hand helplessly as she disappeared into the dark alley.

"...What a gutsy young lady," he muttered before turning the carriage around. It was clear the carriage stood out too much in this area. Staying longer might attract trouble from the local thugs.

Teodora narrowed her eyes at the Adventurer's Guild sign. Adventurers passing by gave her a wide berth after noticing her attire. Their hushed conversations didn’t escape her ears.

"A knight."
"She looks strong."
"What business does a knight have here?"

Through the small window on the door, faint light spilled out into the alley. Teodora stood by the entrance, observing the passing adventurers. Almost all of them bore some sort of injury—bandages on their heads, large scars across their cheeks, or broken arms. Teodora pressed her lips together before stepping through the door.

The guild's noisy atmosphere immediately quieted as Teodora entered the building.

"...A knight?"
"Judging by the armor, she’s someone high-ranking."
"Anyone here used to be part of the knights?"

Teodora calmly took stock of the stares directed at her. Suspicion. Distrust. The adventurers, worn down by the world, greeted her presence with caution rather than friendliness.

Teodora walked to the reception desk. The clerk, busy with paperwork, glanced at her before setting down their pen and meeting her gaze.

"How can I help you?"

The clerk smiled warmly. Teodora sat down at the desk.

"Judging by your uniform, I assume you’re from the Knights. Do you have a mission to request?"

The clerk tilted their head slightly.

"No, I’m looking for an adventurer."

The clerk, sensing her hesitation, leaned in and lowered their voice.

"A criminal or a wanted person, perhaps?"
"Usually, yes. But not this time."

The clerk furrowed their brow in curiosity, unable to contain their interest.

"...Could it be someone the royal palace is interested in...?"
"No."

Not this time. The clerk muttered under their breath, confused.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Pierre Fabien."

As soon as Teodora mentioned the bald instructor’s name, the clerk's face froze.

"...Why are you looking for him?"
"He’s still active with this guild, isn’t he?"

The clerk remained silent, watching Teodora carefully. Sighing, Teodora exhaled softly.

"Can you tell me where he is?"
"That’s..."

The clerk’s response was interrupted as a group of adventurers gathered around the desk. A one-eyed adventurer in the lead spoke roughly.

"Doesn’t matter which dog of the Knights you are, what do you want with him?"

Teodora tensed. Her instincts, already on edge, sharpened in response to the hostility in the air.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The one-eyed adventurer sneered.

"Hah, you want to know what this is?"

His hand drifted to the hilt of his shortsword at his waist. Teodora’s expression darkened. The adventurer, annoyed by her lack of reaction, drew his sword.

"Don’t play dumb. How many people like you have come to this guild asking for Pierre?"

"Listen to me—"

Thud!

The adventurer slammed his sword into the desk. The blade creaked as it bit into the rotten wood.

"Get out of the guild. Unless you want to see things get worse."

Teodora glanced at the shortsword embedded in the desk. It was worn and stained with dried blood, its edge chipped and dull.

"If you tell him one simple thing—that his former student is looking for him—everything will be resolved."

The adventurer tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt. The blade sank deeper into the desk, splintering the wood.

"So what if you were his student?"
"Take your weapon away. I’m not looking for trouble. If you tell Pierre I’m here, this will all be over."

Teodora’s voice was low and firm. The one-eyed adventurer scoffed.

"Who do you think you are?"
"If you’re from the Knights, you should know when to act with caution."

The adventurer’s temple bulged with tension.

"Then prove who you are. Why should we take orders from someone we don’t know?"

Teodora sighed deeply. Wearing the knight’s uniform had been pointless.

"I’m from the Black Raven Knights."

"The Black Raven Knights?"

The one-eyed adventurer’s face twisted.

"The Black Raven..."

Before he could finish, an older adventurer interrupted him. Wrinkled and experienced, the older adventurer seemed to exude a calmer, more composed demeanor than the others.

"Isn’t that the order led by the Benning family’s daughter?"
"What? The Benning family’s daughter?"

The older adventurer shrugged.

"I recently had dealings with some knights, so I heard about it..."

Thud!

The one-eyed adventurer slammed his palm on the table. Teodora’s eyes narrowed coldly.

"Then I guess we can’t just let you walk away..."

"Hold on a sec..."

The older adventurer tried to intervene, but the one-eyed man moved faster than his words.

"Take this, you bitch."

The man swung at her. Teodora lazily glanced at the incoming hand, sighing internally.

Thwack.

"—!"

The guild went silent. The man’s wrist had been caught. Instantly, the adventurers around them reached for their weapons.

"You... bastard..."

The man struggled. Teodora didn’t flinch. She held his wrist like it was a brittle twig.

"Let... go of me!"

The adventurer cursed and fought, but Teodora was unmoved.

"This... goddamn..."

With a sharp tug, she yanked his arm, sending him crashing over the counter. The adventurers around her drew their swords. The metallic hiss of steel filled the room, surrounding Teodora from all sides.

She wasn’t threatened.

Her gaze shifted to the shortsword embedded in the desk. Following her line of sight, the older adventurer swallowed hard.

"Benning Knight... Even if you’re strong, we can’t just hand Pierre over to you."

Teodora sighed.

"All you need to do is ask him to talk. Let me meet with Pierre Fabien."

Maxim’s face still lingered in her mind, veiled by the fog of uncertainty. Teodora pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to push away the growing headache.

"If it were that simple, Pierre wouldn’t be with us now. Even if you bring the entire Benning family here, our answer will be the same."

Crack.

The wood of the counter cracked under Teodora’s grip.

"Stand down. None of us want this to escalate—"

"Hah."

The floor splintered beneath her feet. A violent wave of mana surged through the room, pressing down on everyone like a suffocating force.

"Ugh?!"
"What the hell...!"

Adventurers gasped, their weapons trembling in their hands. Teodora’s mere presence, her cold and overwhelming mana, rooted them to the spot. They couldn’t lift their weapons. They couldn’t even retreat.

A female adventurer in tears wasn’t there. That same woman knew she couldn’t cry anymore if she failed to get her answers here.

"What kind of mana is this...!"

Teodora took a step forward. The adventurers shuddered. Their equipment rattled as if it might fall apart under the pressure.

"This was your plan all along! No one leaves their position!"

The adventurer’s defiance hadn’t wavered. Even if they were captured and imprisoned, they wouldn’t back down. The older adventurer, the only one who seemed unsure, bit his lip anxiously.

"Pierre already knows. Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t happen."

But Teodora didn’t seem disheartened. Instead, she let out a soft sigh of relief.

"That’s good."

"Don’t talk nonsense—"

Just then, the guild’s front door swung open. All the adventurers turned their heads at once.

"...Pierre?"

The older adventurer let out a bewildered sound. Pierre Fabien, scanning the room briefly, scratched the back of his head with a sigh.

"Damn it."

==

Pierre’s arrival sparked hostile glares toward Teodora. Pierre scowled at the adventurers.

"I have a favor to ask."
"Go ahead."

The bald instructor bowed his head deeply.

"These fools don’t know anything. They’re just trying to protect me."

"I know that much."

"...Please, just let this go for once."

Teodora nodded slowly.

"And tone down that vicious mana, would you?"

As the oppressive mana dissipated, Pierre clicked his tongue.

"Thanks, Teodora."

The adventurers exchanged bewildered looks.

"Pierre, what’s going on?"
"Nothing serious."
"Nothing?! Look at the damn counter!"
"Shut up."

Pierre waved dismissively. The adventurers grumbled among themselves, but Pierre’s face was visibly tense. Teodora watched him closely.

The rugged figure of her old instructor had diminished. His once smooth, bald head was now accompanied by a graying beard. Whether this was due to the toll of adventuring or something else, Teodora couldn’t be sure.

"Is that really Teodora?"

Pierre still seemed wary, not even waiting for her answer before shaking his head and rubbing his forehead.

"I’m sorry."

"Instructor," Teodora started.

Pierre looked around at the mess her power had caused, lifting one of the overturned chairs to sit in.

The adventurers, noticing Pierre’s actions, slowly retreated, giving him space.

"What are you waiting for? Get back to your jobs."
"But what about Anton—"
"That one-eyed bastard brought it on himself. If he’s not dead, just stash him in the corner. Clean up the mess later."

Pierre took a seat at the far corner and motioned to the chair across from him.

"Sit down, Teodora."

Teodora followed his gesture, sitting across from him. The deep shadows on Pierre’s face made him look far older than his years. The adventurers lingered, curious but no longer as suspicious. It was more like they were observing out of curiosity than wariness.

"They won’t leave, no matter what I say. Ignore them. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Are they close to you?"
"Close? Hardly."

Pierre shook his head slightly at Teodora’s question, glancing back at the adventurers with an annoyed expression.

"I’ve always had a big heart. After helping out these adventurers a few times, we ended up getting entangled. Keeps me from getting too bored in retirement."

Pierre’s expression softened as he recalled the past.

"...It seems you’ve found good companions."

Teodora’s comment made Pierre chuckle.

"Call it pointless meddling. Maybe it’s my own fault for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong."

The footsteps of the adventurers faded as they carried the unconscious one-eyed man away.

"You seem thinner."

"Not thin enough to mention."

Pierre’s tone shifted.

"What brought you here?"

"Professor Weaving... or rather, the medical officer, told me."

"I see. You heard it from the medical officer."

Teodora nodded. Pierre scrutinized her face for a moment.

"You’re the one who looks thinner."

Pierre leaned back in his chair.

"Even for a genius like you, knight work isn’t easy, is it?"

"Anyone who says it’s easy isn’t doing their job properly."

Pierre chuckled softly.

"True. You’re doing well."

Teodora didn’t smile.

"...So, what brings you here? You wouldn’t come all this way for something trivial."

"I want to hear a story from you."

Pierre hesitated before responding. Teodora pulled out a small pouch from her coat and placed it on the table. The drawstrings loosened, revealing a glint of gold coins. Pierre’s expression hardened.

"Hold on."

"I think this is fair compensation for your story."

Pierre let out a dry laugh and pushed the pouch back.

"I can’t take that. Not for something as simple as a story."

"I’m not taking it back."

Pierre hesitated, staring at the pouch before reluctantly pulling it toward him. The weight of the pouch caused his eyebrows to twitch slightly. He ran a rough hand over his stubbly beard, clearly contemplating where to begin.

"How much did you hear from Professor Weaving?"

"Just that you both were forced to retire due to pressure, and the Benning family was deeply involved."

Pierre nodded at Teodora’s brief summary.

"I also heard you took care of Maxim after his injury... and then met with the Count."

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Did the professor tell you anything else?"

"What exactly happened back then?"

Pierre sighed heavily.

"First, let me ask you: what do you want to know?"

"Maxim."

Teodora’s response was immediate.

"I want to know what happened to Maxim and what happened to you and Professor Weaving."

Thunk.

A chair creaked as it was righted behind them.

"Hah..."

Pierre exhaled deeply, as if releasing a burden.

"We discovered that Maxim was cursed when the Count came to see him."

Teodora’s expression hardened. Her clenched fists dug into her palms, causing a faint cracking sound.

"So you knew Maxim was cursed."

"..."

Back then, as the Count entered the infirmary, Weaving had pulled Pierre aside, out of sight of the guard.

"What is this about?"

"It’s a curse."

"What?"

Weaving’s eyes had been trembling with fear back then.

"A curse of the worst kind."

"What are you talking about?"

Weaving had pressed her finger to her lips.

"You mean to say that Maxim collapsed because of a curse?"
"I don’t know what kind of curse it is, but when I examined his scars..."

Scars.

Teodora dreaded where this conversation might lead next.

No, she didn’t want to hear it.

But the worst-case scenario kept gnawing at her mind.

Scars.

The scars from the final exam, left behind after Teodora had treated the wound inflicted by the living armor.

"What did they do to him?"

"Even though I don’t know much about magic, I understood one thing from what Weaving told me."

Pierre remembered Weaving’s words clearly.

"Curses that lack emotion are the most dangerous."

"...Lack of emotion..."

Teodora’s confusion was growing. Pierre, watching her closely, continued.

"Though Weaving only briefly examined it, she said it seemed like a curse with no apparent reason or motivation. There was no malice behind it."

Teodora urged him to explain further.

"...That detail bothered me."

Outside, rain began to fall. The morning had been clear, but now the sky seemed moody and unpredictable.

"I started investigating personally."

"...Investigating?"

Pierre scoffed, shrugging his shoulders as if to say it had been a foolish idea. Teodora didn’t respond, only staring blankly down at the table.

"I thought it had to be connected to the wounds Maxim received during the final exam. I suspected the Mage Tower was involved somehow."

"Would the Mage Tower have had a reason to do such a thing?"

Pierre shook his head in response.

"The Mage Tower wouldn’t bother with something so troublesome. Or at least, I didn’t think they would... But when I returned to the dungeon, I changed my mind."

The dungeon had been eerily pristine, as if nothing had ever happened there. The lack of any traces was too deliberate to ignore.

"They didn’t care whether we suspected them or not. It was a blatant warning not to investigate further."

But Pierre hadn’t heeded the warning.

"I asked around through contacts at the Mage Tower and even went to investigate myself. I didn’t find much, but then the pressure to resign started to come in."

Pierre rolled up his sleeve, revealing arms covered in scars. Slashes and puncture wounds had turned into permanent marks.

"So if they thought I’d stop investigating just because of that, they were wrong."

Pierre shrugged.

"It got dangerous. There were several attempts on my life. I’m not sure if it was the Mage Tower or the Benning family, but my guess is the Bennings."

"Did you stay in the capital?"

"Leaving wouldn’t have made a difference. The further I went, the more likely it was that my family would suffer for it."

Pierre’s fingers tapped nervously on the coin pouch.

"...I’m sorry."

Teodora bowed her head apologetically. Pierre looked slightly guilty.

"Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t be blaming you."

Seeing that Teodora’s mood wasn’t improving, Pierre continued with his explanation.

"The Mage Tower and the Benning family had a very close relationship. Most people interested in the politics of the capital know that, but their connection was even deeper than I realized. You’re aware of this, aren’t you?"

Pierre watched her closely, as if testing her knowledge. Teodora simply nodded, showing no sign of surprise.

"I knew they had frequent dealings, but my father... Count Benning never told me anything important about the family’s core issues."

"...I see."

Pierre’s eyes narrowed, as if contemplating something. Then he looked back at Teodora with a mixture of pity and sympathy.

"...I’m not sure if you’re ready for the rest of this story."

"Whether I’m ready or not, I need to hear it."

Teodora gritted her teeth. If she left without uncovering the truth, the guilt and misunderstanding would fester in both her and Maxim’s hearts forever.

"The final exam you took... The Benning family gave the dungeon’s layout to the Mage Tower."

Pierre spoke with his eyes closed, head leaned back as if avoiding her reaction.

"They also ensured that you and Maxim would enter last, and they arranged for the dungeon’s structure to change as soon as you both entered."

Fog.

The fog of confusion that had clouded Teodora’s mind.

The guardian of the dungeon, whose strength was far beyond what a trainee knight should face.

Teodora’s mind struggled to accept the facts, even as her instincts screamed at her to reject the truth.

"...That’s ridiculous..."

But Pierre wasn’t finished.

"And the Mage Tower wasn’t just asked to handle the dungeon layout."

No.

Teodora felt as though, if she listened to the next part, she would be crossing a line from which there was no return.

Don’t say it.

You need to know.

A war raged inside Teodora’s head. The noisy clatter of the adventurer’s guild filled her mind, adding to the chaos.

It was strange. Even though her thoughts were overwhelmed by the noise, Pierre’s voice pierced through clearly.

"They were also asked to prepare a cursed potion."

Blood dripped from Teodora’s clenched fists.

"...I don’t need to tell you what it was used for."