INSIDE THE SIMULATION
Far West of the Port City of Cartag
Outskirts of the "Dream Phoenix" Dungeon
From the containment gate that sealed the outside world from the dungeon—and the monsters dwelling within it—the figure of Count Ducking emerged. His breathing was heavy, his eyes tired, his clothes lightly stained with grime.
In his right hand, he held an elongated crystal stone glowing with an intense green light, radiating a massive amount of ambient mana. He stored the stone inside his dimensional pouch, then took out his crystal orb along with a bottle filled with dense mana.
He uncorked the bottle immediately. The mana inside surged upward into the crystal orb, and at once, the image of his master appeared: an elderly man with a powerful bearing, piercing eyes, and a deep, commanding voice.
Merlin:—"Did you obtain the Illusory Stone? Was it difficult to raid alone?"
The Count smiled, one eyebrow lifting slightly, and replied to his master:
Luke Ducking:—"Master… have you already forgotten who I am?"
The old man laughed, his tone shifting.
Merlin:—"You are Britain's Infernal Dragon… still, how did you fare against the Dream Phoenix?"
The Count released a short breath.
Luke Ducking:—"Harder than I expected. I nearly fell to its illusions—if not for that artifact, I'd still be trapped."
Merlin fell silent, as if weighing whether or not to reveal something important. The Count noticed, but chose to ask something else.
Luke Ducking:—"So… will you attempt the World Memory Spell again, Master Merlin?"
Merlin's eyes gleamed faintly, though his expression remained grave as he answered his third disciple:
Merlin:—"Today... in the early hours of the morning... Luke Something happened in Tiésca"
The Count's pupils widened. He swallowed instinctively, yet kept his composure.
Luke Ducking:—"What happened in the prison?"
Merlin's breathing grew heavy, as though the weight of the past pressed down upon him. He closed his eyes and confessed:
Merlin:—"Lake… escaped."
Fear flooded the Count's gaze. The air around him seemed to freeze. A storm of emotions churned within his stoic heart, but Merlin continued:
Merlin:—"I've already summoned Jonathan, though he's tied up with Tower matters. Morgana is with me now. I need you to return to Britain at once. We're heading to Marquis Clauveg's territory to investigate what happened on the Floating Island."
The Count steadied his breathing, carefully weighing every word before responding.
Luke Ducking:—"I'll retrieve my daughter and leave her in Camelot under His Majesty Arthur's protection. After that, I'll join you, Master."
Merlin nodded in approval—then the crystal orb suddenly shifted focus.
A slender woman with violet eyes appeared, her voice enchanting. Morgana stepped in and said farewell:
Morgana:—"Then we'll see each other soon, my little dragon, Luke."
The Count blushed faintly, faked a sudden coughing fit, and quickly stored the crystal orb back into his dimensional pouch.
"By the Holy Order… this investigation is going to be very long with her around."
***
City of Cartag, Gregorian Empire
Pello Tavern – Mercenary Guild Branch
With my new outfit, the biomechanical suit was completely concealed. Now that I think about it, once I get back to base, I should take a bath—I got splashed with way too much monster blood during the tournament.
Anyway, with the new item I took from Frank in hand, I no longer need to worry about using the backpack Artia made. (Good thing I hid it somewhere safe with the CI-Mask.)
Fully equipped now, I calmly headed down to the first floor of the tavern.
I went down the stairs feeling smug after extorting my former boss—now subordinate. But the moment I reached the bottom, my suspicions were confirmed.
I was being followed.
Damn it. My fault for not rushing here at top speed. Why am I being so careless? Oh right. (I think a thousand thoughts per second… every second. Should I open a chimichanga stand?)
I shook my head to refocus on the present. I already had annoyances on my tail, and I needed a plan to stay unnoticed.
Then a simple idea hit me.
"If the system literally gave me the "Random NPC" trait to avoid standing out, then my stats should be average NPC-level."
I ordered Quincy to lower all my stats to the NPC average.
[Complete adjustment, Master… may I say something? ♡(ʃƪ＾3＾)]
—Go ahead, Quincy.
[I sense severe mental-emotional turbulence in your tone… how are you feeling, Master? (Ó╭╮Ò)]
—I feel euphoric, but thoughtful… I feel something, but I don't want to feel it. So I want to distract myself.
[I understand… you experienced countless emotions while waiting with the other slaves. (╥﹏╥)]
—I don't want to remember that, Quincy. Let's focus on unlocking a luck-based skill instead.
[I still don't understand, Master… why do you want a luck skill? (ಠಿ_ಠ)]
—Quincy, understand this… nothing good comes from everything going too well.
[But logically, everything should go well, ignorant Master. (ರ_ರ)][Your luck is literally absurd. (ʘ‿ʘ)]
—I don't think so. Preparing for the worst is called common sense.
[Master… I'm not sure whether to praise your judgment or condemn your paranoia. ¯\(ツ)/¯]
—Shut up. (Only time will tell if I'm right.)
[As you wish, Master. (ಠಿ_ಠ)]
—Changing topics. Is there any betting house or casino in the city?
[No, Master. According to my records, only more taverns exist near this area. (눈‸눈)]
—Fine. That'll do for now.(Hmm… new future objective unlocked: founding a full Las Vegas– or Macau–style casino in this world.)
My strategy worked. No one even looked at me.
Who would've thought being painfully generic was such an advantage?
I left the tavern without a single issue.
Once I got far enough away—after three days without seeing them—I ran into Obraham-senpai's group again. They were clearly heading toward the guild headquarters. Everyone looked upbeat… except Jeff.
When he saw me, the massive Durham rushed over, wrapped me in a crushing hug, and shouted:
Brock:—"HAHAHAHA! THIS KID IS MY LUCKY CHARM!"
—S-so suddenly!? (What the hell is wrong with him?)
Obraham spoke calmly and explained:
Neil Obraham:—"Relax. He lost a lot of money betting on the tournament… and seeing you cheered him up. According to him, you're good luck."
As the air left my lungs, Brock added:
Brock:—"Shut it. This kid's gonna help me win it all back."
His grip loosened. I sucked in a massive breath of air and said, still trapped in his arms:
—Actually… I was planning to go somewhere I can place some bets.
The berserker's eyes lit up instantly.
Brock:—"Then what are we doing here? Let's go—I know a great place."
—Perfect. (I think I just found my gambling partner.)
The big guy finally let go, and as we walked toward the place Durham knew, Aragon-senpai approached me, adjusting her short hair.
Debora:—"Sorry about your elimination in the Glasthor Raymond tournament."
—What? (Wait… did they not notice the alias I used at the Vaiolet Tavern?) —How do you know I was eliminated?
Debora:— "We didn't see you. We were just watching some insane bastard fighting under a weird name."
—Ah, I see. (So they don't suspect a thing.)
Debora:—"Still… that name sounds familiar. Like I've heard it before."
—You're imagining things. (Better that way… what the hell were they all doing that they couldn't recognize my alias?)
Flashback — Three Days Earlier
City of Bourn, Lichstein KingdomBasement of the Vaiolet Tavern — Mercenary Guild
As the chaotic battle unfolded and contenders were eliminated one after another…
Every member of Obraham's group was focused on Clatus's fight—right up until the exact moment Raymond defeated him with a single blow.
Jeff choked on a mouthful of meat pie.
The crowd erupted at Raymond's victory just as Violeta, the tavern administrator, stepped forward to announce Sam as the winner.
None of them noticed Jeffrey turning purple from lack of oxygen.
Neil immediately rushed in and performed the Heimlich maneuver.
Between the noise and the chaos, none of them heard the name Violeta used when calling out Raymond.
At last, Jeff coughed free of the cursed chunk of meat.
Jeff:—"T-thanks…"
Neil Obraham:—"Don't mention it. (Wait—what did I miss?)"
Brock:—"WOOOOOHOOOO! YEEES! I WON, YOU BASTARDS! (That kid's gonna make me rich!)"
Noelle:—"See, Jeffrey? We missed the announcement of our little kohai."
Jeff:—"Sorry… can we celebrate later?"
Debora:—"Why are you always so pathetic?"
The half-dwarf looked at her with exhaustion and sarcasm, replying in a joking tone:
Jeff:—"Oh, forgive me, Lady Aragon. (Doesn't matter—my luck's always trash anyway.)"
Noelle:—"Hey Jeff, you know what?"
Jeff:—"What?"
Noelle:—"Get ready to be shot by Deby."
Debora drew her twin pistols, but Brock slammed his beer mug onto the table.
Brock:—"Betting on Raymond was the right call… well, for most of us. Sorry, Jeff."
Only then did Jeffrey realize Raymond had won.
Jeff:— "WHYYY!? (What the hell did I ever do to deserve this luck?!)"
Back to the Present
City of Cartag, Gregorian Empire
We walked together through Cartag's beautiful streets, market stalls lining the way. Even so, I could still hear rumors—mostly about me as the Abuser.
To keep the group from hearing that name, I quickly asked:
—Hey… why is Jeff so quiet?
Looking closer, he had dark circles under his eyes. The aura of a man who'd bet his house on a coin toss.
Debora sighed heavily.
Debora:—"He bet everything on the Guild Master in the finals. And lost."
—Oh. (Damn… I genuinely feel bad for the guy.)
Noelle:—"Yeah. That's why he looks so down."
—Wait. What round did you reach in the tournament?
Debora:—"We arrived yesterday but missed the afternoon prelims. Today, when we got there, it was already the third round."
—Okay. (So they know nothing… finally, something goes my way.)
Noelle:—"By the way, what round were you eliminated in?"
—First round.(Lying isn't always the solution… but I have no choice. Rule #3181 of manhood: "A man doesn't do what's convenient—he does what's necessary.")
I stopped overthinking and paid attention again.
Debora:—"I expected you to go further. But even for someone like you, facing multiple B- and A-class monsters isn't easy. You're lucky you survived."
—You're right. I'm incredibly lucky.
Suddenly, Jeff grabbed me by the hood of my cloak, shaking me back and forth like a rag doll.
His strength was enough that I feared he'd tear it.
If that happened, my identity as the Abuser would be exposed.
I was about to strike or shove him away—but his face was pure desperation, frustration bordering on madness.
Jeff:—"GIVE ME SOME OF THAT LUCK, BROTHER! (My life sucks—please, just give me some luck!)"
—C-calm down!
I tried to soothe him, but he kept tugging at my hood.
Jeff:—"I WON'T CALM DOWN! (If I fail as a mercenary… I'll have no choice but to go back to Stekeovn!)"
I was seconds away from hitting him—and I would've hated myself for it.
Then Obraham forcefully separated us.
Neil:—"ENOUGH. We're here."
Relief washed over me. (Thank you, Neil-senpai. You're a lifesaver.)
We'd arrived at Durham-senpai's chosen destination.
A towering building rose before us—far taller than the surrounding structures. Its design was peculiar, but it screamed money.
Durham approached the guards at the entrance. They spoke in hushed tones, argued briefly, and he pointed in our direction.
I didn't catch a word—but eventually, they let us in.
The moment we stepped inside, my eyes lit up.
Brock spoke as we all stared in awe:
Brock:—"Welcome, sons of bitches, to the underground casino—O Dystychís."
It was phenomenal.
An old-style casino drenched in real gold, Greco-Roman decor everywhere.
Hundreds of tables. Countless people. Every game of chance imaginable.
It was paradise.
So beautiful I almost shed a tear.
I rubbed my hands together wickedly—like a classic parody villain.
Without even saying a word, Durham-senpai and I reached a silent agreement:
We were going to play everything.
And just like that, one of the wildest nights I've lived since waking up in this world began.