The blood-red vortex around them receded like an ebbing tide. Loran stumbled forward and found his footing once more on the soil of Limgrave.
“You… came back?”
Kiro’s voice came from beside him.
Loran nodded, raising a hand to rub his temple. The sensation of reality tearing apart during the invasion still left him slightly dizzy.
“So? Did it work?” Kiro pressed, curiosity finally overcoming her earlier impatience. The number above her head stopped at [-30], no longer falling.
Loran let out a bitter smile and shook his head.
“I got wrecked.”
That was his concise summary of the “trip to another world.”
—The player with the ID “Supreme Commander of the Demi-Human Army” was no beginner.
The moment Loran appeared, the man had already assumed a stance. Clad in a full set of bulky Bull-Goat armor and wielding dual pickaxes, he immediately started weaving around with rhythmic Bloodhound’s Step footwork.
Loran couldn’t even land a hit.
And after getting his skull smashed in by those pickaxes, he’d been treated to an absurdly smooth combo of spinning point-down gestures followed by the guy casually tossing Dung Pots at him like snacks.
He spared Kiro the details, only vaguely saying that he had simply been outmatched.
At that moment, Varre—silent until now—let out a low chuckle.
“Heh… hehehehe…”
His shoulders trembled.
“Excellent. Very excellent!”
Both Loran and Kiro turned toward him.
“Failure is the first step toward approaching my lord. Did you feel it? That humiliation of helplessness? The trauma of being toyed with by someone stronger?”
Varre’s voice overflowed with approval.
“That is not shame. It is grace. A baptism meant to reveal the cruel truth of this world!”
As he spoke, the affinity number floating above Varre’s head surged once more in Loran’s vision.
[Affinity: +50 → +60]
[Status: Ecstatic, Satisfied]
Varre seemed deeply pleased by Loran’s failure. To him, such frustration was far more valuable than a lucky victory. It proved that Loran was a promising subject—someone capable of truly feeling trauma.
The moment the affinity hit 60, the UI above Varre’s head flickered.
Several new options unfolded like a menu beneath the [Status] tab.
This was the first time the affection system had revealed branching choices.
Loran stared at the three translucent option boxes hovering above Varre’s white mask.
[Option 1: Explore the Doctrine (Ask in depth about the details of the “Lord of Blood” dynasty)]
[Effect: Varre Affinity +10. Gain more information about the Mohgwyn Dynasty. Chance to unlock related side quests.]
[Option 2: Request Blessing (Express understanding of “trauma” and ask Varre for further “grace” or guidance)]
[Effect: Varre Affinity +15. Chance to directly obtain the Pureblood Knight’s Medal and skip the three invasion missions.]
[Option 3: Confession]
[Effect: ???]
“Confession?”
Almost instinctively, Loran glanced at Varre.
Behind the mask, those hidden eyes were gazing at him with something dangerously close to affection.
Loran immediately looked away.
He was terrified that if he stared for even one second longer, he would begin imagining the scene—
Himself, gazing lovingly at Varre and saying:
I like you.
That was far worse than being beaten to death by the Supreme Commander of the Demi-Human Army a hundred more times.
This was no longer simple social interaction.
This was a catastrophic assault on the psychological integrity of a normal human being.
He forced himself to calm down and began frantically analyzing the situation with his absurd 99 Intelligence.
Why?
Why was there a Confession option?
Did the system automatically unlock romance routes at 60 affinity?
But this was Varre.
A manipulative NPC whose intentions in the game had never once been pure.
Could it be that the “routes” in this galgame system weren’t limited to conventional romance?
Was “affinity” measuring a broader form of emotional connection?
If so, what exactly would a confession mean in this world?
The ultimate acceptance of someone’s doctrine?
An extreme declaration of total devotion to the path they represented?
Or…
Was this system simply a chaos-loving prankster that existed purely to create situations this absurd?
Loran’s gaze swept over Options One and Two.
They were rational. Safe.
Exploring the doctrine meant information.
Requesting a blessing accelerated progress.
Quantifiable gains. Calculable returns.
But [Confession]—
And the three question marks behind it—
Radiated a deadly allure.
Risk and reward were always proportional.
Those three question marks could mean:
“Varre Affinity reset to zero. Immediate hostility.”
Or perhaps…
Something unimaginable.
Something world-shattering.
The choice surfaced in his mind once more.
Would he be a rational man who weighed pros and cons?
Or a gambler willing to bet everything?
“What’s wrong with you?”
Kiro’s voice interrupted his internal war.
Seeing Loran’s expression shift between pale and green, she frowned.
“Don’t tell me he actually brainwashed you. If you seriously believe his nonsense, I swear I’ll—”
[Kiro Affinity: -30 → -35]
Loran took a deep breath.
In his mind, his finger hovered briefly—
Then decisively pressed the word wrapped in pink lace:
[Confession]
The moment he made his choice, an irresistible force seized control of his body.
Loran felt like a marionette.
His limbs no longer obeyed his brain.
His legs moved on their own, step by step, carrying him toward Varre.
Beside him, Kiro stared in complete disbelief.
She watched as Loran—looking utterly possessed—walked toward the suspicious white-masked man with an expression of sincerity she had never once seen on his face.
“Hey! Loran! What are you doing?! Snap out of it!”
Her voice cracked with alarm.
[Kiro Affinity: -35 → -45]
But Loran heard nothing.
He stopped before Varre and slowly lifted his head.
His gaze locked precisely onto the eyes hidden behind the mask’s hollow sockets.
What kind of eyes were they?
Loran couldn’t describe them.
Under the confession system’s enforced state of sincerity, it felt as though he had pierced through the shadows and glimpsed chaos itself.
No surprise.
No curiosity.
Only silent emptiness.
A void as lifeless as the singularity before the birth of the universe.
But none of that mattered.
The system’s command was simple:
Look sincerely into their eyes.
“I like you.”
Loran heard himself say.
The words left his mouth clearly and steadily, without the slightest hesitation or trace of irony.
There was even something faintly devout in his tone.
The air froze.