Bubble-Bubble-Bubble~
The gentle sound of boiling broth filled the small kitchen, accompanied by the faint aroma of herbs and simmering vegetables. Marian tilted the pot's lid slightly, letting out a soft plume of steam. The scent that escaped was rich and comforting, clinging to the air like a warm embrace.
She smiled faintly to herself. Almost done.
Her eyes drifted to the old clock on the wall, its ticking unusually loud in the quiet cottage. The hands crept well past noon. Reneal and her husband were supposed to stop by for a late lunch—something about a brief appointment in town, nothing unusual. The stew had taken longer than expected, so it was just as well they hadn't arrived yet.
I hope they haven't spoiled their appetite again with all that snacking, she thought absently, wiping her hands on her apron.
Then, in the distance—
Neigh~
A horse's cry echoed faintly through the trees.
Marian's heart lifted at the sound. "Speak of the devil," she murmured, her lips curling with relief.
She took the pot off the stove and set it aside before hurrying to the door. She stepped outside, combing locks of hair behind her ear as the wind gusted. But as her eyes landed on the path leading to the cottage, something made her stop cold.
There was only one horse.
And it was pulling a cart.
A dull crunch of wooden wheels on dirt scraped against her ears like a cruel whisper. Her breath caught in her throat. The rider pulled back their hood.
It was Reneal.
But it wasn't the boyish smile she had raised, nor the eager wave he always gave. It was a hollow look, one that shouldn't belong to someone so young.
His eyes were red-rimmed, his mouth set in a trembling line. As the cart drew closer, Marian felt something strange settle over the clearing. The breeze stilled. The leaves didn't rustle. The sun seemed colder.
Before the horse even stopped, before Reneal could utter a single word—
She ran.
Her feet pounded against the dirt, skirts billowing behind her. She rounded the back of the cart, and there it was—
A casket.
It was draped in cloth bearing the emblem of the kingdom.
Her knees buckled instantly.
"No—" Her voice cracked, broken by a sob before it could fully form. She collapsed to the ground, hands reaching for the edge of the cart as if touching it might make it untrue. "No, no, no, please… not him… not now…"
Reneal slid down from the horse in a daze. His face crumpled the moment he saw her break. "I'm sorry," he whispered, again and again as he dropped beside her, his own knees digging into the earth. "I'm so sorry, Marian…"
They clung to each other tightly and cried. Grief overtook them, their bodies trembling from the force of it. The forest around them fell completely silent. There were no birds, no breeze.
Just a casket.
Two broken souls.
And a meal that would never be shared.
***
Lumielle's lips quivered in dismay.
At the sight of that, Lyndoria's eyebrows crinkled. "Those monsters," she scoffed. "How could they do something so vile, and in broad daylight?"
Sister Aeliana brought her hands together in a silent prayer. "I know the people of the slums hasn't been particularly productive, especially in these troubled times—but genocide?" She turned her gaze to the bearer of the grim news. "And you're certain the Zepharion Church is involved?"
"That's right," Daisuke admitted, briefly stroking Zephyr who was sprawled across his shoulder, asleep. "I've got Father Alvian locked away in a tavern room as we speak. He's still out cold, but once he wakes up, I plan to squeeze every bit of information out of him."
"…Were you telling the truth about Reneal?" Lumielle asked in a small voice.
Everyone waited for the response.
Daisuke nodded. "…He rose to the challenge and rallied the soldiers to fight off the monsters from the break. If it weren't for his bravery and leadership, there would've been a full-scale invasion, and things would've ended much worse."
He paused before continuing, "…But his transformation came at a price."
The princess wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks, while Sister Aeliana clasped her hands more tightly in tribute to Neville's noble sacrifice.
Lyndoria cast a subtle but accusing glance at Daisuke, arms crossing her chest. "If we hadn't gotten the prince involved in the first place, then his attendant would still be alive."
"And hundreds more would've died as well," he countered gently, brows knitted. "I'm not saying sacrifices are justified—but that crisis could've turned out far worse. …I truly believe Reneal will carry this loss with him—and because of it, he'll grow into someone who can save not just hundreds, but hundreds of thousands."
Lumielle sighed. It was a sensitive argument and she wasn't quite sure how to respond. She didn't even want to imagine how lost she would be without Lyndoria by her side. Did her brother even have any other servants he could lean on for comfort or support?
Daisuke scratched his chin as he lost himself in thought. "I don't get it," he murmured, his brows furrowing. "Dungeons are like an active volcano just waiting to erupt, so why allow one to be within the city walls?"
Lumielle somberly glanced down at the beverage in her teacup, her jade-green eyes gleaming. "That's because… when properly tended to, a volcano may yield precious gems and fertile earth. It is only when neglected that it becomes a harbinger of ruin."
Lyndoria flexed a cookie in her hand. "In simpler terms, dungeons are dangerous, yes—but they are also incredibly profitable."
Daisuke raised a brow, unconvinced. "You're saying the risk is worth it?"
Lumielle nodded. "While Dungeon Breaks are indeed calamitous, there are methods to prevent them. And when one succeeds in doing so, a dungeon becomes an asset worth more than gold."
"Guilds, nations, even merchant syndicates," Lyndoria added, "they all compete for control over dungeons. It's not uncommon for wars to erupt over a single one."
"…You're kidding," Daisuke muttered in disbelief.
"Mana crystals, ancient treasures," Lumielle continued, lifting a finger as she listed each point, "rare monster materials, a steady source of income through leased entry rights, and an ideal ground to train an army without burdening the treasury.
These are the main reasons dungeons are so highly sought after. They're also political tools—symbols of a nation's strength and stability."
Daisuke leaned back into his chair, eyes glinting with enlightenment. "So, they're not just death traps… they're resource farms."
"…Precisely," Lumielle said with a wan smile. "Of course, it's not without risk. Your average monster and Floor Guardians respawn quickly. Dungeon Bosses, however, can take anywhere from days to months. Thus, instead of blindly checking if one has returned, mages invented a device that scans the dungeon's barrier."
"You mean the one at the front entrance?" Daisuke asked.
Lyndoria nodded. "Yes. If the barrier's integrity shows any degradation, even in the slightest, it signals that the Boss Monster has reawakened and the cycle has begun anew."
"And if you ignore the signs?" he asked.
"Then a Dungeon Break becomes inevitable," Lumielle replied. "They are known to occur within a month if the Dungeon Boss is left unchecked. That's why dungeons must be actively maintained and monitored. It is the cost of owning one."
Lyndoria took a sip of her tea to wash down the sweetness of the cookie. "Guards are also posted outside the entrance. Weaker monsters from the upper floors occasionally wander out… though they seldom venture far."
"Hmm…," Daisuke crossed his arms. "Sounds like babysitting a bomb. But… one that pays rent."
Lumielle chuckled softly. "An interesting analogy, but yes. Though, when your nation's coffers overflow with mana crystals and high-grade equipment, it is a risk we are willing to shoulder."
"Just don't let your babysitter take a nap," Daisuke muttered. "Or the city goes boom."
"…Exactly," Lumielle murmured, her eyes clouding with sorrow. "But this time, the babysitter wasn't just asleep—they were removed altogether. Because of someone's cruel scheme, hundreds have lost their lives. What are we… supposed to say to the people?"
"Well, whatever's going to be said needs to be decided sooner rather than later," Lyndoria said gravely.
Daisuke raised a single brow. "What do you mean?"
Sister Aeliana gingerly hoisted the kettle and refilled the girl's teacup. "A memorial service will be held at the palace this evening—to commemorate the lives lost in the tragedy."
Lumielle pursed her lips.
Lyndoria sighed. "The silver lining in all this is that this function will conveniently bring all the court officials together in a single room."
Daisuke's expression hardened as he mulled over the thought. "You know what that means," he said, glancing up beneath his lashes. "After today, we're going to be under a hell of a lot more pressure. We'll have to be even more careful from here on out."
Everyone stiffened at that unsavory fact.
Daisuke pressed his lips into a thin line, his gaze shifting to Theo and the others, who were enjoying cookies and warm milk by the fireplace. If we're going to move forward with Roselle's strategy tonight, maybe I should try interrogating the priest before things get messier. Wringing some vital names out of him would help us figure out who we need to keep an eye on during the ceremony.
A muscle worked in his jaw. I still can't believe they tried using a Dungeon Break to handle an overpopulation problem. Talk about extreme. Did the Dungeon Boss evolving into a Unique Monster raise the dungeon's overall tier? It's strange. Rare-grade monsters and dungeons are supposed to be scarce—sure, I have the Eye of Verity, but isn't this just a little too common based on my experiences?
All of a sudden, the floorboards creaked as Brek strode in, followed by Garrett and Ribbit, their cloaks dusted with dirt and rabbit fur.