"W-we're alive! We survived!" one of the raiders gasped.

"Why did they suddenly run away?" another asked, confused. "We were clearly losing."

"That new Dungeon Master must be toying with us," a third spat. "Damn it! Demez! Goland! Campbell!"

The initial joy of survival quickly soured as they took in the bodies of their fallen comrades. The Dungeon Master was definitely playing with them. Swallowing their rage, the raiders began to secure the area.

Gapildeo, however, was frantic, his eyes scanning the empty space where the vines had been. "Where did they go? They were right there a moment ago! Don't tell me the monsters got them!"

He searched the vicinity, but there were no bodies.

"Has anyone seen Rone?" he demanded. "She's gone! And Philip is with her!"

"Calm down," a comrade said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think I saw them. It looked like they were running from the orcs, toward the next room."

"Together?!" Gapildeo exclaimed.

A wave of anxiety, not relief, washed over him. If they had escaped alone, it meant they were still together now. Just the two of them. It was incredibly dangerous. Not only had they fled in the same direction as the monsters, but the dungeon itself remained a complete unknown. There was no telling what dangers awaited them.

And it meant Rone was alone with Philip.

'No. Absolutely not,' Gapildeo thought, his panic rising. 'I'm not there. I don't know what that bastard will do to her.'

An image of Philip forcing himself on Rone flashed through his mind. Gapildeo's eyes turned bloodshot. He tore a radar scroll from his pouch and activated it.

[Radar (Medium) has been used.]

[The structure and status from the first to the fourth room are revealed.]

A map materialized in the air. Fortunately, the corridor leading to the fourth room was a straight path. Two markers, representing Rone and Philip, pulsed steadily within it. They were stationary, as if hiding.

"Gapildeo, what are you doing using a radar item already?" a raider protested.

"We have to find them!" he shot back. "The item isn't important right now! Get ready! We're heading to the next room immediately!"

"Are you serious? You want to just leave our comrades' bodies behind?"

The words finally registered, and Gapildeo looked at the corpses of his friends. He punched the air in frustration. In the end, they took the time to handle the bodies before pressing on.

---

Meanwhile, Philip and Rone were huddled in a recess in the corridor, having escaped the orcs.

"Chwik. Chwiiik!"

"Kieeeek!"

"Grrrrr!"

A procession of monsters stomped past their hiding place, apparently returning to their posts. Fortunately, they remained undiscovered, and the corridor soon fell silent.

"Phew. We barely survived," Philip said, his voice trembling slightly.

"Isn't it strange?" Rone whispered. "Wild dogs have a keen sense of smell. Why did they pass by without finding us?"

"How should I know? Maybe their noses were stuffy," Philip scoffed, his earlier terror replaced by a renewed arrogance. "Let's not worry about it. We survived. That's what matters."

Rone shot him a look of disdain and sighed. She had escaped, but she hated being stuck with him.

'Gapildeo... he must be worried sick.'

He had been on edge all morning, and she knew it was because of Philip's constant harassment.

'I've been putting up with it for Gapildeo's sake, but I can't anymore. Noble or not, I have to reject him, firmly.'

She resolved to confront Philip as soon as they regrouped with the others.

"Let's head back," Philip said, puffing out his chest. "The monsters have probably gone back to where they came from. From now on, just trust me, Rone."

"...Let's just go."

"Ahahaha, you don't have to pretend to be so calm. You're already completely captivated by my charm."

Ignoring him, Rone started back down the corridor. If they just retraced their steps, they would meet up with the party in no time.

Her hope was shattered in an instant.

"Chwiiik."

"Chwik."

"Chwiiik!"

A squad of orcs blocked the path ahead, patrolling the corridor with heavy, thudding steps.

"W-what?!" Rone gasped.

"Hah! That's nothing," Philip declared, his confidence surging at the sight of only five orcs. "Leave it to me. You just provide some magic support."

"Wait!"

But Philip was already charging forward. The orcs drew their weapons without hesitation, and the corridor rang with the clash of steel.

"Ugh! What the hell? Why are these orcs so strong!" Philip grunted, quickly finding himself overpowered.

From behind, Rone frantically cast a spell. "Ice Circle!"

Shards of frigid ice shot forth. The orcs staggered but did not retreat.

"Ugh! I-I can't do it!" Philip yelled, his bravado crumbling. "These orcs are too strong! We have to run!"

"But our comrades might be coming! Just hold on a little longer!"

"No! Absolutely not! I can't take any more of this! Hmph!"

Philip turned and fled disgracefully. The orcs, their eyes glowing red, gave chase. Rone had no choice but to follow.

'This is wrong,' she thought, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach.

It felt like they were being driven deeper and deeper into the dungeon. With fear in her eyes, Rone focused on escape.

---

On Day 2, using the last of their items, the raid party had barely reached the fourth room. They had searched everywhere, but Rone and Philip were nowhere to be found.

"Their tracks disappeared after the fourth room, where we last saw them on the radar," their tracker, Riden, reported grimly. "There are some traces nearby, but it's not enough to pinpoint their location."

A heavy silence fell over the group. They had relied on items and skills to break through the monster hordes, and now their supplies were depleted. They had camping gear, but their raider-specific items were gone. To advance any further would be suicide.

"We have no choice, Gapildeo," a raider said, his voice strained. "This is our limit. We have to go back."

"Let's retreat and request support. At this rate, we'll be overrun by monsters again soon."

The raid was an undeniable failure. The survivors were mentally and physically exhausted. They could no longer blindly follow their leader's orders.

Gapildeo slowly lifted his head and glared at Riden. "So you're saying we should abandon Rone and run?"

"You know as well as I do that going any further is a suicide mission!" Riden shot back.

"No. Absolutely not," Gapildeo said, his voice trembling. "I won't abandon Rone. I 'can't'."

His eyes, wild with anxiety and impatience, darted around the room. Even now, Rone could be clinging to life by a thread. Or worse, Philip could have done something terrible to her. He couldn't even rule out the possibility that she had forgotten him entirely and willingly given herself to that bastard.

'I'll never forgive him. Never!'

Lost in his own dark delusions, Gapildeo was seething. Riden sighed, seeing the madness in his eyes. There was no reasoning with him. It was clear that even if the rest of them left, he would continue on alone.

"Alright, I get it," Riden conceded wearily. "Calm down, Gapildeo. We'll go with you. Just don't do anything stupid."

"We leave as soon as we're ready," Gapildeo muttered. "Get moving."

"Haaah... fine," Riden said, turning to the others. "You heard him. Let's get ready."

And so, against their better judgment, the party pressed on.

---

From that day forward, Gapildeo's mental state deteriorated rapidly.

"Chwiiik!" an orc snarled.

'Where are you?' he thought, his eyes unfocused.

"It's a trap! Dodge!" a comrade screamed.

'Where are you two holed up together?'

"You've been acting strange ever since we entered this dungeon. Are you okay? Gapildeo? Gapildeo?"

'I'll never forgive either of you. Hiding together behind my back. Never.'

As his comrades watched with growing concern, suspicion and obsession consumed him like a fast-acting poison, corrupting his every thought. He was becoming a wreck.

"This is the eighth room," a raider said, his voice hollow. "I don't even know how we made it this far."

"Ugh... we've lost too many. It's just us left now."

"The Dungeon Master is definitely toying with us. The way he keeps pulling back his soldiers... he's enjoying this."

They had somehow reached the eighth room, but their numbers had dwindled to fewer than ten.

"Hey! Gapildeo! Snap out of it!"

"...I'm going to kill them," Gapildeo whispered.

"What are you talking about? Get a grip! We've come all this way, you can't fall apart now!"

"I'm definitely going to kill them."

His eyes were filled with a terrifying, murderous light. His comrades recoiled in fear. Just then, figures emerged from the corridor on the far side of the room. The raiders instantly raised their weapons, their bodies tense. Gapildeo stared blankly in their direction.

Then his eyes widened in disbelief. The figures walking toward them were none other than Rone and Philip.

"Gapildeo!" Rone cried out.

"We finally found you, you slowpokes!" Philip shouted, a mixture of relief and annoyance in his voice. "We almost died because of you!"

Gapildeo rubbed his eyes, certain it was an illusion. But they were real. His comrades rushed forward to greet them, and Rone threw herself into Gapildeo's arms.

"Gapildeo, you were worried, weren't you?" she sobbed into his chest. "It's okay now. I'm alive."

"Ah... ah..." he stammered.

"Why do you look like this? I wouldn't die without you, Gapildeo. I couldn't."

His trembling hand reached up to touch her cheek. She was crying, overwhelmed by their emotional reunion. Just then, Philip approached, scratching his head sheepishly.

"Hey... I'm sorry for everything, Gapildeo," he said. "I think my jokes went too far. I did some reflecting while I was with Rone."

He scoffed.

"So... don't be too mad."

Philip seemed to have changed, humbled by their ordeal.

"Philip, is that the best apology you can offer?" Rone demanded, pulling away from Gapildeo.

"H-hey! I'm the heir to the Moyre barony! Do you really think a noble should apologize first?"

"Who cares if you're a noble? Apologize properly!"

"Urgh."

She had him completely under her thumb. It seemed they had done a lot of talking.

"I'm sorry, Gapildeo," Philip said again, looking him in the eye. "I promise I won't joke around like that again—"

In the middle of his sentence, a familiar blade plunged into his abdomen.

A stunned silence fell over the room. Blood dripped from the sword in Gapildeo's hand. Philip's face went deathly pale.

"Huh... what?" he choked out.

"What did you do to Rone?" Gapildeo snarled.

"What... do you... mean?"

"Don't play dumb! There's no way you didn't lay a hand on her!"

The sword twisted deeper. As his consciousness began to fade, Philip weakly shook his head.

"I... didn't..."

"You bastard! You son of a bitch!"

"Kyaaaah! Gapildeo, what are you doing?! Get a grip!" Rone screamed.

Gapildeo mercilessly trampled the dying Philip. Rone and the others tried to pull him away, but it was too late. Philip's breathing stopped.

"Haa... haa..." Gapildeo panted.

"Why are you doing this?" Rone cried, collapsing to the floor. "I don't understand! No matter what he did, he didn't deserve this!"

Gapildeo glared down at her, his chest heaving. "You don't understand? This all happened because you wouldn't push him away! What the hell did you two do together? Huh?!"

He lunged forward and grabbed her by the throat. His comrades tried to intervene, but the sword in his hand kept them at bay.

"D... on't..." she rasped.

"Tell me now!" he roared. "What did you do? Did you spread your legs for him? Or did you happily take off your clothes when he pounced on you?!"

"Ga... pil... deo..."

"Answer me, you bitch!"

Her eyes slowly fluttered shut. He threw her to the ground and raised his sword high.

"You were all I had, and you betrayed me! You turned me into this!"

"Get a grip, Gapildeo, you bastard!"

"What kind of delusion are you under? Please, just stop!"

His comrades looked for an opening to rush him, but a threatening swing of his sword sent them scrambling back.

"I won't be fooled anymore," Gapildeo sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "I'll kill you, and then I'll kill myself!"

His memories of her, his feelings for her, every sacrifice he had made for her—it all vanished in an instant of pure, agonizing rage. He brought the sword down.

---

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