2.

Why were only the male slaves sent for firewood? Was there gender discrimination here, too? As a man from the modern world, Kim Buja didn't waste time on such pointless jokes. In any fantasy world he knew, gender roles were more likely to be the reverse of his own; no one was sparing the women from hard labor out of chivalry. Especially not when they were slaves.

"She's a pretty one. Mind if I… educate her a little?"

"Not that one. She's premium goods. Orders are not to touch."

"Tch, what a shame. Fine, I'll take this one."

Buja brow furrowed as he watched one of the slave traders casually drag a trembling female slave away without a hint of guilt, but he didn't intervene. He quietly set his firewood down near the cart and returned to his spot. Any plan to use food from the Gold Shop to build rapport with these bastards and find an opening was officially on hold.

'Still better than being moved to a different cart,' he reasoned. Not knowing who the princess was, staying with the woman he suspected was his best bet.

The traders lit a fire, cooked a meal, and as the sun set, the slaves were given a simple, gruel-like soup. Judging by their expressions, the humiliation was immense for people who had been nobles just a short time ago. Yet, even among them, the woman from his cart remained impassive.

When the traders were distracted, drinking and laughing amongst themselves, he slid over to her.

"Did you hear?" he whispered.

She looked at him questioningly. She didn't stop him, though they both knew the consequences of being caught talking.

"I heard the princess managed to escape, but they can't find a trace of her."

She remained silent.

'So suddenly?'

His words were transparently leading, but he didn't hesitate. He had been cautious at first, but he now understood that she was just as trapped as he was.

"The truth is, I let myself get captured," he continued, his voice low. "I figured there was a chance the princess had been caught by the Allied Forces."

"…And who told you that?"

Her voice, clear and pure, drifted to his ear again. It was tinged not with suspicion, but with a faint hint of surprise.

'Just as I thought.'

A truly clever person would have been suspicious. It was strange for someone to willingly become a slave to find the princess, and stranger still to single her out. But circumstances were what they were. Just as he had sized her up, she must have concluded that he was in the exact same predicament as her.

If she were the real princess, she wouldn't have come to him in secret; she would have gone straight to the slave traders. All he needed was a plausible lie.

"The captain of the Royal Guard," he began, spinning a story. "All the surviving knights have scattered to find her. I'm telling you this because you seem trustworthy, and I need your help. Will you?"

He concocted a reason for singling her out, a tale about a knighthood he wasn't even sure still existed. Figuring it would be easier for women to confide in one another, he asked her to let him know if any of the other slaves knew the princess, swearing he would rescue her.

Her suspicious gaze swept over him, questioning not just the truth of his words but the very possibility of rescue. After a moment, she nodded.

"I understand," she replied. "If I meet the princess, I will tell her."

She said nothing about being the princess herself. Buja didn't press the matter, retreating to a corner to sleep. He sighed, gazing up at the countless stars twinkling in a sky so different from Seoul's.

'Is there no such thing as a quest helper? I'm going to drive myself crazy looking for this princess.'

A hunch was a far cry from certainty. The thought that this woman might be the princess was just his own wishful thinking. If she lied and claimed to be the princess simply because he'd mentioned a rescue, and he somehow managed to escape with her based on that lie alone… he refused to even imagine how high the difficulty would skyrocket.

And that didn't even account for the possibility that the princess wasn't among the four women here at all.

Just as his thoughts reached that grim conclusion and he was about to drift off…

[24:00:00]

▷ The effect of (L) 'Wait for Free Gold' is now active.

▷ The effect of (L) VIP1 Skill: 'Gifts Galore Every Day!' is now active.

▷ The effect of (L) VIP2 Skill: 'Today's Mission!' is now active.

[You have acquired 6 Gold.]

[You have acquired a 'VIP3 Attendance Box (8)'.]

[You have acquired 'Today's Mission!: Shopping'.]

[Gold Mission in progress.]

[You acquire the 'First Clue'.]

"Huh?"

A hologram flared to life, forcing his eyes open.

* * *

3.

Now that his Gold Power had reached eight, the daily VIP3 box yielded a variety of surprisingly useful items—especially valuable, considering he'd been thrown into a strange world with nothing to his name.

"They could at least give me an inventory," he grumbled.

Of course, it would have been impossible to carry anything while he was practically naked. For the moment, he tossed the items into some nearby bushes, planning to retrieve them if he got the chance. Then, he opened the 'First Clue.'

Today's Mission could be cleared by spending gold, but his current status as a slave had killed any desire for shopping. He skimmed past it; it was a simple mission that would be completed just by buying food, anyway.

The important thing wasn't the attendance box or the mission. It was the clue about the princess—the one problem he couldn't seem to solve.

[First Clue]

When he pressed the hologram, it expanded, and his vision plunged into darkness. He felt a distinct pulling sensation as a video began to play.

* * *

The place was a hell far worse than the slave cart. It was an underground chamber where not even a sliver of light penetrated, illuminated only by a few flickering lamps. The stench of blood was overpowering, and corpses were strewn everywhere. In this grim space, only two types of people existed.

The torturers. And the tortured.

For days, the questions and answers exchanged between the dozens of tormented souls and their handful of tormentors had been brutally repetitive.

"Where is the princess?"

"I don't know! Aaaaargh!"

"Who is the princess?"

"N-no one has seen the princess except for her personal head maid and a few others! Please, spare me! Gaaaaah!"

"Where is the head maid who served her?"

The imperial princess. The emperor's sole heir. To those who sought to uproot the Empire and forge a new world under the Allied Forces, she was the final obstacle to ending the war. And so, countless people from the Imperial Palace were tortured and killed.

"Stubborn bastards."

"To think they won't talk even facing death."

The few who knew the princess's face refused to speak, even under pain worse than death, displaying a will so strong it made the torturers click their tongues in frustration.

But not everyone in the world could maintain such loyalty. The Emperor had raised the princess in strict seclusion, but it was impossible to hide her perfectly for over a decade.

"I-I never served the princess directly," a voice whimpered, "but I heard from someone who personally bathed her! She said the princess has two moles under her left breast!"

The words belonged to a maid who valued her life more than loyalty, one who naively believed they would actually spare her if she talked. Her confession echoed at the end of the video.

"Find her. Find the princess."

The final words came from a man in pristine armor, a sight utterly out of place in a torture chamber. That was where the video ended.

* * *

His vision returned. Judging by the fact that the slaves beside him had barely moved, not much time had passed.

'Just as I thought.'

No matter how the difficulty was scaled for a Legendary-grade, this was still just Chapter 1-1. Setting aside the question of 'how' to solve it, there was no way the system would make it impossible to even find the target.

He replayed the video in his mind. 'Two moles under her left breast.'

It was an undeniably solid clue. For a first clue to be this specific suggested that finding the princess might not be so difficult after all. The problem, of course, was the "left breast" part.

He subtly shifted his gaze toward the female slaves. Their revealing outfits left little to the imagination, yet the front was just covered enough. No, it was as if that specific part was concealed 'precisely' to make verifying the first clue difficult.

"Damn it."

He could see exactly how this was supposed to play out. He understood the risk he would have to take to find the princess. At the same time, the end of the video impressed upon him the need to decide quickly.

"Whatever."

He dismissed the thought of sneaking a peek. Even if they were all slaves, she was a princess—or at the very least, a noblewoman. Would she really show him just because he asked? He decided to pin his hopes on the tattered state of her clothing. If he paid close attention, an opportunity to confirm the clue might present itself.

He closed his eyes, deciding to rest for the day ahead.

* * *

4.

Even now, five years after dungeons first appeared, the concept of ethics within them remained largely undefined. Murder, rape, assault—these were still heinous crimes, unethical acts humanity should never commit.

However, inside a dungeon, the weight of those words lessened. Survival was the absolute priority. Consequently, there was a growing trend of rationalizing acts of violence committed in the name of staying alive. In a lawless space filled with criminals, it was seen as an unavoidable evil.

You still became a murderer, of course, but wasn't it better to be a murderer than a corpse?

This was the mindset players had to adopt, not just when facing humanoid monsters, but when confronting the reality of humans preying on other humans. As a result, players had become desensitized to violence and crime.

The most important thing was one's personal code. You had to have a firm, precise conviction and believe in yourself. In that sense, Kim Buja was resolute. He had been that way even before his awakening.

Virtual reality. Some called it just a game, an escape. But for him, it was another world where he projected his true self. In preparation for becoming a player, he had established his own standards back then.

They were nothing special. Inhumane acts were absolutely forbidden. He would restrain himself even when simple monetary gain was on the line. But when necessary, he wouldn't hesitate.

Of course, his current situation was far removed from such problems, yet it was no different from a dungeon. It was a space where the law did not apply. If you broke your own code just because no one was watching, what meaning did it have?

Inside the swaying cart, Kim Buja made his decision.

'A direct approach it is. Let's not be pathetic.'

It might seem like a small thing, but the moment you start thinking that way, the principles you've built begin to erode.

He opened the Gold Shop, bought a few simple junk foods from Earth, and approached the woman he presumed to be the princess.

"Excuse me."

In the dark cart, with nothing to look at but each other, the woman watched with wary, questioning eyes as he approached after a long period of deliberation. When he discreetly held out a chocolate bar, her gaze seemed to ask what he wanted.

"Uh, can you just… show me once?"

She was dumbstruck.

'Show you what?'

Her unspoken question hung in the air as her gaze followed his down to her chest. And then—

Before a look of contempt could form on her face, the cart lurched to a halt. The door flew open, and a cascade of water poured in.

"Time to wash up."

The cloth, far from being waterproof, became thoroughly soaked, rendering its purpose of concealment meaningless and putting the first clue on full display. He quickly hid the chocolate bar behind his back. Fortunately, the slave trader dousing them didn't even glance at Buja's naked body, only leering at the woman's.

In any case, Buja's half-day-long dilemma came to an abrupt end.

There was no twist.

'Oh!'

His internal exclamation of awe at the bizarre conclusion—a conclusion only he understood—was highly susceptible to misunderstanding.

The cart door slammed shut again, and they started moving, not even given anything to dry themselves with. A chilling glare pierced him. Buja looked away, playing dumb.

There was no way the woman—no, the princess—would understand the direct approach he'd chosen to avoid being pathetic.

'Can I even escape with the princess?' he wondered grimly. 'At this rate, she'd probably rather be sold as a slave.'

He had just been given a whole new problem to solve.

* * *

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