Chapter 8 - Misunderstanding (3)

Alon’s ostensible reason for visiting Estrovan was to build social connections. In truth, however, he had made the journey of over a week for the labyrinth south of the territory.

"... This is where you have business?"

"Yes."

"We finally found it after two whole weeks... but there’s nothing here."

As Evan spoke, slowly surveying the empty forest, Alon looked around as well. Indeed, there was nothing distinctive nearby—only forest and an unpaved road that seemed to have gone unmaintained for years.

‘Which is why I spent two weeks busting my ass.’

Alon’s face was impassive, but inwardly he sighed with relief. He had spent the two weeks since the ball—nearly twenty days in total—staying in Astrovan and devoting his time to finding this labyrinth.

‘Finding it so easily in the game really made me underestimate it.’

With that thought, Alon turned toward the small gorge visible beyond the forest. He headed toward the sole clue that had allowed him to locate the labyrinth.

"Are you certain this time?"

Having already followed two false leads, Evan muttered with a hint of complaint as he followed. Feeling his presence behind him, Alon briefly organized what he knew.

‘It’s called the Labyrinth of Whispers. You can enter it midway through the game, and the equipment awarded for clearing it is “Constraint.” Once I get that, my business here is done.’

Recalling the features of a labyrinth he had visited hundreds of times in Psychedelia, Alon walked on without hesitation. Before long, he reached the little gorge beyond the forest.

"... Anyone could tell there’s something strange about this place."

Evan spoke as soon as they arrived. As he had observed, the gorge was small, but something about it was distinctly wrong. Despite the sun standing high overhead, its interior was far too dark, as though it were repelling the sunlight.

The sight filled Evan with alarm and wariness.

"Let’s go."

"Young master!?"

For Alon, however, the phenomenon was a source of elation. It was exactly the same as the field effect surrounding the Labyrinth of Whispers he had been searching for.

That meant the Labyrinth of Whispers was here. Without hesitation, he entered the dark gorge. Evan stared at him in astonishment, then followed him inside as though he had no choice.

Inside, darkness enveloped them, making the sun they had just seen overhead seem like a lie.

"..."

Scattered around them were piles of stone carved with various patterns, seemingly fashioned by hand rather than formed naturally.

Alon walked past them and soon spotted an entrance steeped in pitch-black darkness. He stared absently at the doorway, its surface plastered with assorted patterns that made it unmistakably someone’s handiwork.

"... How on earth did you know this place existed, let alone find it?"

"I used to come here often."

"... Pardon?"

Answering Evan absentmindedly with the truth, Alon realized he had inadvertently let something slip and casually corrected himself.

"That was a joke."

"... With that expression, it doesn’t sound like a joke at all... Then how did you find out about it?"

"I have my ways."

"For someone who has his ways, didn’t it take you rather a long time?"

"... I didn’t expect it to take this long either."

While Alon briefly reminisced about playing Psychedelia, Evan asked another question.

"So who exactly built this creepy place?"

"A fellow named Palaon."

The Labyrinth of Whispers.

Alon recalled that some of the online communities he frequented also called it the Labyrinth of Palaon the Overrated.

"... Palaon?"

"Let’s go in."

Without answering any more of Evan’s questions, Alon headed for the entrance. Evan followed with anxiety and wariness written all over his face. Soon, no one remained outside.

####

SKREEEEEE—!!!!

CRUNCH! CRACKLE! CRUNCH!

A hell gargoyle—a creature players could only defeat around the middle of Psychedelia’s story.

That formidable monster was slowly being crushed to death beneath a massive stone descending from the ceiling, as though caught in a compression press.

Evan looked sickened.

"Ugh..."

Watching a powerful monster he could never defeat alone die so pointlessly and with such appalling cruelty was wearing away even the stoicism he had developed over years as a mercenary.

Yet what made his heart race even faster was the fact that a stone identical to the enormous slab brutally crushing the hell gargoyle hung over their heads as well.

‘How on earth can the young master... in a situation like this?’

Evan looked at Alon.

A single wrong answer to one of the labyrinth’s questions would condemn them to the same gruesome death as the gargoyle before them, yet Alon’s expression remained impassive. Instead, he simply waited for the door to open, as though he felt no danger whatsoever.

Watching him, Evan felt his curiosity about Alon deepen.

Normally, even the most inscrutable mage would reveal something of their thoughts after four years together. And Evan had helped Alon with a great deal over those four years.

Sometimes he rescued orphans. Sometimes he wiped out evil organizations. At other times, he helped an enslaved girl, paid off an old man’s debts, or delivered some seemingly meaningless words to an acquaintance. He had handled all manner of tasks.

Yet after doing all those things, Evan still did not understand Alon. He could find no connection between the assignments that offered any clue to what Alon was thinking.

Perhaps the only link he knew of was that Alon had gathered a few of the rescued children at the orphanage and continued to take a somewhat greater interest in them.

There was much else Evan did not know about him. For instance, he had no idea how someone who had never once left Pallatio territory knew of a place like this. Nor did he know how Alon understood the workings of this chilling labyrinth and could answer its questions without hesitation.

Even so, Evan had developed enough of a peculiar faith and trust in him to follow him into this suspicious place after no more than a minor complaint. That was probably because every task he had carried out had ultimately turned out to be a good deed.

‘... What on earth is he preparing for?’

Trust did not erase his curiosity, however, and Evan watched Alon with a mixture of wonder and puzzlement.

Meanwhile, Alon was surveying their surroundings with an impassive face.

‘... I think I’m going to throw up.’

In reality, he was forcing himself to look elsewhere to avoid seeing the gargoyle being horrifically crushed to death.

‘I knew what would happen, but I never imagined it would be this gruesome...’

CREEEEAK!

Alon saw the door open as soon as the gargoyle’s execution ended and let out a sigh.

There was a reason he had confidently entered the Labyrinth of Whispers, a place normally accessible only midway through the game, despite being unable to fight properly: he knew this labyrinth.

‘Still, that made it easy to clear.’

The labyrinth consisted of eight rooms. Each stage presented a riddle upon entry, and solving it allowed passage through the room. In other words, as long as he knew every riddle, he would never have to fight an enemy—and he remembered every one of them with perfect accuracy.

In fact, from a Psychedelia player’s perspective, these riddles were impossible to forget even if one tried. This was almost the only labyrinth that could be attempted repeatedly as long as its reward remained unclaimed, allowing players to grind levels by leaving and reentering.

Naturally, after countless playthroughs spent grinding here in the midgame, Alon had memorized every riddle and reached the end with ease. Bringing along Evan, who was exhausted despite not having fought a single battle, he entered the small room at the end of the labyrinth and picked up the ring resting on a shabby table in its center.

The ring had no distinguishing features and gave off no perceptible energy. Someone else might have considered open disappointment an entirely natural reaction to it.

But Alon smiled. What he held was unmistakably Constraint, the item he had sought. Nor did its lack of a splendid appearance bother him much.

"... Huh? Young master, the ring you were just holding—"

After all, this item did not function as an artifact. It was more like an elixir, absorbed into the user’s body the moment it was used.

"I have what I need. Let’s go."

Evan had been startled when the ring on Alon’s finger vanished. Now he looked dumbfounded as Alon turned away, apparently having found everything he needed. Still, he soon followed him out of the room.

The labyrinth had ceased all its functions the moment they reached the end, as though everything was over. Alon and Evan made it out safely, only to be confronted by humanoid golems that had not been there before, all standing with weapons in hand.

"... Did you anticipate this as well?"

"These are the ones from earlier—"

Recognizing the patterns carved into the golems, Evan realized they were the many piles of stone they had passed earlier. He drew his sword, his face tense.

"I’ll handle this one."

"... Pardon?"

Evan answered Alon’s words with a blank stare. Before Alon even answered his question, a pronouncement escaped his lips.

"I impose Constraint."

####

Seated in the carriage returning to House Altia’s territory, Loria gazed at the lands visible in the distance. With despair etched deep into her face, she sighed and gave a self-mocking smile.

‘I really was a fool.’

Loria thought of the man she had met at the ball: Alon, the third son of House Pallatio.

But that was merely his outward label. According to the rumors circulating among the nobility, he had killed his two elder brothers, both major underworld figures, and erased Avalon—which had all but controlled the east—overnight. He was the count’s house’s true mastermind, who had concealed his strength until now, waiting for the moment to bare his claws.

‘No. They aren’t rumors.’

Having met Alon, Loria had found it easy to recognize the truth in them. The restraint he had shown at the ball could never have come from someone of no substance.

‘It was like looking at Father...’

Loria thought of her father, the Duke of Altia. In the underworld, he could manipulate both the kingdom’s royalist and aristocratic factions at will. Among the nobles, he was called the Eminent One—a name that meant he was someone they must never make an enemy of.

Her father’s eyes, which never betrayed emotion carelessly and always assessed and judged matters coolly, had looked so much like Alon’s eyes when she saw him five days ago.

That was why, the moment she saw Alon, she had recognized him as her last lifeline and clung to him. And she had failed.

"..."

To be honest, it had not been unexpected.

From the moment she looked into his eyes, Loria had realized he was not someone to whom she should plead for paltry sympathy and pity. Yet she had appealed to them anyway, because she had nothing to offer.

All she possessed was a hollow semblance of power, sustained for the moment by the Duke of Altia’s mercy and affection.

No matter how hard she tried to acquire anything else, her efforts were thwarted by the cowardly scum who stood in her way—people she could hardly even call her own flesh and blood.

In short, she was powerless, and that had cost her even her last lifeline. No, she was probably the only one who had considered him a lifeline at all. After all, no one would accept a bargain that plainly offered more loss than gain.

"... Whew."

It would be a lie to say she had not known. However hollow her power might be, she had used it time and again in an attempt to claim her place, enduring countless struggles against her repulsive relatives, who already had everything.

Thus, although she was not yet twenty, her mind was already well versed in the ways of the world. She understood all too well that every relationship and every exchange carried gains and losses.

["Good things will come your way."]

Still smiling self-mockingly, Loria recalled the baffling words he had spoken at the end. She looked out the window, which now showed the scenery within the territory.

About thirty minutes later, she returned to the mansion.

"... What did you say?"

"Lady Pairinne and Lord Kig have passed away...!"

From a maid, she learned that two of the four siblings who had tormented her so relentlessly had taken their own lives.

After hearing the news, Loria entered her room with a bewildered expression, questioning their deaths. Her hateful family members might stab another member of the family in the back, but they would never choose suicide.

In other words, the notion that those two had killed themselves was, from the outset—

‘Impossible.’

Certain that some scheme lay behind it, Loria suddenly recalled the words of that man, the third son of House Pallatio—

No.

["Good things will come your way."]

She recalled the enigmatic words of the true mastermind, who had single-handedly killed all his brothers and risen to become the count’s heir.

"...!!"

Goosebumps rose all over her body.