Chapter 3: My Home Is Pretty Big

就在格雷格因系统提示而内心哀嚎时，维多利亚的脑海中也因他那句话掀起了风暴。

Just as Greg was wailing inwardly over the system prompt, a storm was raging through Victoria's mind because of what he'd said.

He knows I'm a Hero?

This was an identity known to only a handful of people.

Apart from a few of the highest-ranking figures in the Church of Light, the only other person who knew was Sylvia—the childhood friend standing before her, a candidate for the next Saintess, who had grown up alongside her since they were small.

But how on earth could this exiled former duke's son, hiding in some gloomy dungeon, have come to know?

Without changing her expression, Victoria took half a step forward, placing herself fully between him and the unconscious Sylvia.

Her voice was very calm, betraying almost no emotion, but Greg keenly sensed the killing intent churning beneath that calm.

"Who exactly are you?" she asked. "And where did you learn of this?"

Greg snapped back to himself.

The system's sudden intrusion just now had thrown off his rhythm, but it had also unexpectedly handed him a brand-new angle.

He swiftly combined the explanation he'd originally prepared with the quest he'd just received, weaving a fresh chain of logic in his mind.

"The truth is, I too am an emissary of a goddess."

He met Victoria's scrutinizing gaze, his tone candid. "It's just that the foe you must defeat is the demon race, while my mission is to conquer the dungeon."

In this world, the two greatest threats to humanity were essentially these: first, the demon race that watched them with covetous eyes; second, the labyrinthine dungeons scattered across the continent, breeding countless monsters.

Given his talent and the quest the system had issued, Greg wasn't really lying—his current goal genuinely was to clear the dungeon.

"That doesn't explain what you did earlier." Victoria did not let down her guard.

"Because that was a play I had to act out in order to break away from my family."

Greg's voice dropped a notch, carrying just the right touch of gravity.

"In House Sass, the duke's family, apart from myself, the maid who originally attended me, and a younger sister taken in because of her talent—everyone else—"

He paused, and then said, word by word, "is a lackey of the demon race."

Victoria's pupils contracted slightly.

"And besides, if I truly wanted to ruin you..."

Greg went on, his tone even carrying a trace of absurd self-mockery: "Why would I, after tampering with the magic device, go around broadcasting it so loudly for all to hear? Am I some idiot terrified that people might not realize he's up to no good?"

Thanks to Greg Sass's original Intelligence stat of a mere 1 point.

Greg silently bowed to his predecessor in his heart.

It was precisely because the other man's earlier actions had been so baffling and stupid that there was now room for this deliberately crafted explanation to stand.

Victoria fell silent.

The Church had indeed secretly investigated House Sass, but had always lacked solid evidence.

She had never imagined that one of the family's former direct-line members would, in such a blunt manner, fling so horrifying a secret right in front of her.

And recalling those earlier misdeeds of his, so absurdly stupid...

The seed of doubt was quietly planted.

"Then why not go and confess to the Church of Light?" she pressed, her gaze sharp as a blade. "If what you say is true, the Church should be your most reliable ally."

"Because the one who blessed me is not the Goddess of Light."

Greg picked up the thread smoothly, casually reciting the name of a deity that had appeared in the original work's lore.

"The one who granted me her blessing is the Goddess of Night."

Watching the subtle shifts in Victoria's expression, he continued: "What's more, the Church is hardly a monolith internally—otherwise Sylvia would have formally succeeded as Saintess long ago, rather than remaining merely a 'candidate.' Am I right?"

Victoria's breath caught.

He even knew the hidden truth that infighting between factions within the Church had delayed the Saintess's succession...

This was by no means intelligence that a marginalized noble son could have grasped.

By this point, Victoria already believed his account some fifty or sixty percent.

But long-ingrained caution kept her from fully lowering her guard.

"I will still remain suspicious," she said, looking Greg straight in the eye, speaking frankly.

"That's enough," Greg spread his hands, his tone lightening. "Lady Hero, I never intended to be your enemy—I only want a bit of peace and quiet."

The tense atmosphere finally eased somewhat.

Only then did Victoria belatedly feel a wave of chill.

Earlier, in her rush to save someone, she had shed her outer robe, and now wore only thin white undergarments.

The damp fabric clung tightly to her skin, her curves laid bare in the firelight.

Her movements stiffened, and then she raised an arm, draping it across her front as if casually, and gave Greg a smile utterly devoid of warmth:

"Seen enough?"

Greg blinked and answered honestly, "To be honest, not yet."

"...Look again, and I swear I'll smash your eyes out."

Greg obligingly turned around.

Behind him came the rustling sounds of dressing.

Only when the sounds stopped did he turn back, his gaze sweeping over the still-unconscious, thoroughly soaked Sylvia, and then over Victoria, now fully dressed but wearing a complicated expression.

He pointed to the narrow passage behind him that led to his makeshift camp, and extended a sincere invitation:

"Before Sylvia wakes up..."

"How about coming over to my place to sit a while?"

He paused, then broke into a hearty grin beneath his golden hair.

"My place is pretty big, actually."

.......

Setting Sylvia gently down on a dry patch of stone beside the fire, Victoria straightened up and slowly swept her gaze over this so-called home.

In the broad cavern, apart from the crackling bonfire at its center and the academy coat lying on the ground as a makeshift mat, already stained all over, there was almost nothing.

The walls were rough rock, the floor hard stone slabs, and the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and the faint, fishy reek of monsters.

"...This is the 'home' you spoke of?" Her tone carried undisguised disdain.

"Just tell me whether it's big or not." Greg had his back to her, wringing out his soaked coat, water dripping in a steady patter onto the ground.

He stripped off the sodden shirt, his lean, powerful upper body exposed in the dancing firelight.

Trails of water slid down the grooves of his back muscles, the outline of his shoulder blades rising and falling clearly with each motion of wringing the cloth.

Victoria's gaze grazed over him without a trace, then swiftly moved away.

In all fairness, on looks alone, Greg Sass was without doubt the most striking man she had ever seen.

But that dazzling golden hair and that excessively handsome face, for some reason, had made her instinctively feel... uneasy from the very first meeting.

An indescribable sense of repulsion, like a faint electric current, would occasionally race up her spine when their eyes met.

Even now, after hearing that explanation of his—true or false, impossible to tell—this subtle revulsion still lingered.

She couldn't understand it, and couldn't be bothered to dig into it.

Victoria sat down on the other side of the fire, keeping a distance from her unconscious childhood friend that would let her react at any moment.

She unfastened the pack from her back and began to take stock of whether anything had been lost in the chaos earlier.

She drew out the items one by one.

A few bottles of basic healing potions, some dried rations wrapped in oilpaper, a few light-crystals for illumination, and several changes of clothes.

Finally, her fingers brushed against two seemingly unremarkable things at the bottom of the pack.

One was a flat, round box about the size of a palm, made of some dark metal, its surface engraved with intricate patterns hard to make out.

The other was a small bundle, tied with hemp cord, of dark brown, withered root-like objects that gave off an extremely faint odor resembling old leather.

Just as she took these two things out and casually set them on the ground beside her, a nearly hysterical shout suddenly exploded through the cavern.

"Don't eat the sour radish! You ash-furred little beast, you've brought your 'gifts of warmth' all the way down into the dungeon now?!"