Chapter 10
The green flames of the torches cast eerie, elongated shadows.
The spiders retreated, and Sian carefully scanned the surroundings.
All directions were open—if more monsters appeared, they could flee easily.
“Are temple stairs always this high? Even the Grand Temple in the old capital is huge, but it has no stairs.”
The Crown Prince gazed up at the temple with admiration.
“Well, I suppose dying in front of such a magnificent sight is a blessing. I’ve no regrets.”
“Your Highness.”
The situation worsened, yet the Crown Prince forced himself to act relaxed, tossing out frivolous jokes. Sian tried to restrain his lord.
The Crown Prince’s neck was bandaged with Sian’s handkerchief, hiding the bite wound from the spiderling. The bleeding had stopped, but the venom had not been neutralized.
If not for his royal bloodline’s natural resistance to poisons, he could have died at any moment.
“I know, Sian. But being tense all the time can crush a man. Sometimes you need a little composure, too.”
When the Crown Prince lightly tapped Sian’s shoulder, Max clicked his tongue and glared.
“Che.”
The political struggles within the imperial court were always brutal.
But Sian was one of the chosen.
Born to a scholarly family, blessed with brilliant intellect, master of both magic and spirits—he was exceptional.
When the current Emperor admired him and arranged for him to accompany the young Crown Prince, Sian understood:
‘I was destined to become His Highness’s closest aide.’
From then on, envy, jealousy, and hostility followed him everywhere.
Yet Sian never thought his sharp tongue or open contempt toward incompetence was a problem. If others lacked talent, wasn’t that their own failing?
Most challengers either collapsed under the gulf in ability, or wilted when they realized Sian’s disdainful gaze barely even recognized them as human.
But not everyone was the same.
Lady April, for instance, was happily chattering with Yeniel.
“Now that I think about it, the doll we saw earlier was actually cute, Lady Yeniel.”
“What doll?”
“The one with the knife spinning in its mouth! Hmm… I forgot his name. It was a boy, and he squeaked.”
“…You think that’s cute?”
They were talking about the grotesque squeaking boy automaton at the dungeon entrance. Yeniel shuddered, and so did Sian.
Even in such a grim world, April shone as though she were simply on a picnic.
“But it was a child doll. Children are cute, aren’t they? It would have been perfect to be friends with Pipi! Ah, that’s my doll’s name. She’s an adorable little girl. I wish Pipi and that boy could play together.”
“…I think you should reconsider that.”
Perhaps shocked by April’s perspective, Yeniel—usually reserved—offered rare advice.
“Choosing who to keep close as a friend is important. Don’t trust so easily. Think carefully about what kind of presence they’ll be in your life.”
Thanks to April, the atmosphere of the party softened despite their dire situation.
If they had never entered this shadow world, no one would have discovered her hidden strengths.
Her beauty, after all, was dangerously captivating. The day April first debuted in society had been absolute chaos.
Sian himself had been struck dumb, while others fainted from hyperventilation.
Flashback.
“Sian Isengrif.”
“Oh my, I feel like I’ve heard that before… maybe someone’s friend?”
“You’re mistaken.”
Her father, Marquis Sharon—mocked as “muscle for brains”—often greeted Sian, assuming friendliness. His family was the same: oblivious, thoughtless, unable to distinguish between factions.
“Hm… maybe my memory’s wrong. But, Sir Sian.”
At that sudden, casual address, Sian’s heart beat erratically.
“Do grape seeds grow into grapevines in your stomach if you swallow them?”
“…What?”
“My uncle says he’ll grow four vines, so I should grow at least two, right?”
Any illusions shattered instantly.
“Why ask me something like that?”
“Because you wear glasses, so you must be smart. People with glasses are always smart, aren’t they?”
Sian realized then: his ideal type was someone logical and intelligent.
But in this dark place, even the “foolish” Lady April gave him a strange sense of salvation.
Hadn’t she just tried to shield him from others’ jealousy? Though Sian had long since learned to endure it, her innocence felt strangely comforting.
‘To think I’d find relief from someone so lacking in intelligence… But maybe, sometimes, that isn’t such a bad thing.’
The Emperor’s faction would die of outrage if they heard him admit this.
[Strategist Sian’s Affection has increased.]
April tilted her head, unaware of Sian’s thoughts.
[Strategist Sian’s Affection has decreased.]
[Strategist Sian’s Affection has increased.]
[Strategist Sian’s Affection has decreased.]
[Strategist Sian’s Affection has increased.]
Why is he like this?
Every time Sian muttered under his breath, affection points rose and fell wildly.
“Why am I even thinking this…”
“But maybe it’s not entirely wrong…”
The constant notifications were overwhelming.
‘Is there a way to turn this off?’
Affection Notification Function: OFF
Tip: Open the settings menu to re-enable affection notifications.
Surprisingly, it worked.
April opened the settings out of curiosity.
‘Settings.’
Error Occurred!
No player information found.
Tip: Status menu unavailable!
April sighed. Not being the player was truly unfair.
At least the options menu wasn’t necessary to clear the game—things like detailed affection charts were just conveniences.
Affection Details
▶ Crown Prince: 90% (Lover)
Favorite gifts: Wine, ancient joke books
Feelings toward [Lightpril]: Romantic love, possessiveness
▷ Strategist Sian: 57% (More than friends, less than love)
Favorite gifts: Writing instruments, bitter foods
Feelings toward [Lightpril]: Someone to worry about, someone he wants to support, friendship
Even so, the lack of easy access felt inconvenient. Though realistically, April probably wouldn’t bother reading it carefully anyway.
The temple steps.
After resting, the party ascended the path lit by rows of green torches.
The stairway stretched wide, though each step was shallow.
The flames brightened the way, but the green tint gave the air a heavy, funereal atmosphere.
Sparks leapt, casting long shadows behind them.
“Lady Yeniel, Lady Yeniel—look! This must be the end of the hall!”
April called out like a child. Yeniel replied calmly:
“Indeed. Please be careful climbing, Lady April. The steps are shallow—you might fall.”
“Alright.”
April laughed brightly as she climbed.
At last, they reached the temple entrance.
The faint green glow reflected off the marble floor, staining it pale jade.
It looked less like a temple, and more like a prison for demons.
Inside, the structure revealed itself: massive pillars supporting the ceiling, their gaps sealed by walls, without a single window.
Only dust and cobwebs filled the space.
“Ugh.”
Max recoiled at the sight, and the others looked equally unsettled.
“Empty,” the Crown Prince remarked.
“Strange. Most temples spend their entire budget making the first floor grand and ornate, like the Grand Temple of the old capital.”
“Unusual indeed,” Max admitted.
April’s eyes shifted—something had clicked in her mind. She turned to the group:
“This is a reverse temple.”
“Reverse temple?”
Her quiet words prompted Sian to explain.
“A temple for demons. Unlike ordinary temples, the first floor is left empty, and the second floor is richly adorned. Could it be…? This dungeon belongs to demon-worshippers.”
Sian’s eyes widened.
And as if the temple itself had understood, the marble staircase before them began to rise with a thunderous rumble.
The ceiling above split open, revealing the path upward.
