But these patches were just gamified elements. Minor motivational gimmicks at best.
If I had to compare, I was the team owner, and they were pro gamers. If they trained hard that day, I’d buy them jajangmyeon—maybe throw [N O V E L I G H T] in tangsuyuk if they were lucky. How important was that, really?
For us, aiming to become the continent’s top assassin team, such things were trivial.
It was time to get to the main point.
“Either today or tomorrow, we’ll receive a call from the department. When that happens, we’ll be deployed for our first live operation.”
“What kind of operation?”
“We’re going into the ‘Dungeon of Competition↑.’”
The cadets’ expressions froze as they realized what that meant.
Here, ‘Competition↑’ symbolized things like rivalry, brutal progress, and survival. A star that embodied the structure where you had to crush others to climb.
Dungeon of Competition↑
It was a record-based [Stigma Dungeon].
The unusual feature was that entry was sorted by age group.
For example, I—being in my 30s—could only enter the 30s server.
Angela, the senior professor in her 80s, would enter the 80s server. Shaman, over 100, would go into the 100s server.
This structure existed because a warrior’s strength was heavily influenced by age.
Results were measured by time and score. You could choose whether or not to display them.
All four members of the Dante Assassination Team were 19. Technically adults, since 18 was the legal threshold, but none had had their birthdays yet this year. Kendreik’s was coming up next month.
“Up to four can enter as a party, but if even one person isn’t a teen, none of you can enter the teens server.”
In other words, if even one of them passed their birthday, the whole team would be locked out.
We could ditch Kendreik, sure—but four-person parties were the basic unit, so we’d lose a major advantage.
“So I plan to use this chance to set a high score in the dungeon and gauge your level.”
They nodded.
And since the Dungeon of Competition↑ was a major benchmark of ability, this was also a perfect opportunity to showcase the Dante Assassination Team’s potential on the Betting Table.
If the Empire were a casino, I wanted an invite to the VIP room right from the start.
“Let’s start with some light training.”
“Yes, sir!”
We began with basic assassin drills. Running. Wall climbing. Throwing. Stealth. Evasion. After about two hours of hard work and heavy sweating, training ended.
We returned to Dormant Dragon Hall to wash up and wait for the call from the department.
“Ugh.”
“No you dumb fuck. Say it again. An!”
“U-uhm...”
“Nyung!”
“N-ne...neung...”
“Annyeong!”
“Ugh.”
“What the fuck!! Why can’t you get it right?!”
While Balmung continued Kendreik’s socialization training, Elize and Gray chatted about the dungeon.
Just as I thought the call might be coming soon, the front door opened.
The princess entered.
“Professor. A moment, please.”
The atmosphere was tense. The assassination team glanced at me. I grabbed the [Crystal Orb] I’d left out and followed Rebecca.
Meanwhile, I scanned Layme’s thoughts.
【Layme: ‘Please calm Her Highness’s anxiety...’】
【Layme: ‘Something feels seriously dangerous right now.’】
The princess seemed anxious. I dug a little deeper and quickly pieced things together.
Sure enough, she was extremely agitated. Her hands trembled with a mix of anger and dread.
“Professor.”
As soon as we reached her room, Rebecca whirled around.
“Let’s sign a contract.”
“A contract?”
“Yes. A [Stigma Contract].”
Rebecca held out a document. The contents: turning our previous verbal deal into a magically binding agreement.
“You’ll give me 100 million Hika. I’ll vow to block the agreement.”
She had let it slide last time. I’d figured this might happen. But the terms were brutal.
“Yes. And whoever breaks it—dies.”
Extreme.
“Don’t like it? Then forget it.”
“No, I’ll sign.”
“......”
This was how I’d anchor Rebecca—at least temporarily.
Right now, my influence as her advisor was still weak. If she pushed, she could easily kick me aside. I needed to deepen my roots first.
It was fine. The contract was bound to the star Eternity∞, and I knew how to safely nullify such pacts.
That star symbolized infinity and permanence—concepts with flaws that weren’t intuitive for mortals.
< A contract with Eternity∞ has been formed. >
After I stamped it in blood, her breathing began to stabilize.
I paused to consider.
Was this a chance?
Time to wag my tail?
For now, I chose to speak gently.
“Did something happen?”
“......”
“You don’t look well. Your breathing’s off too.”
Rebecca turned her face slightly. Her expression as emotionless as ever.
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
The princess threw up a wall—just as I always do with Adele.
...I wasn’t exactly curious either, to be honest.
But her asking for a contract meant she still didn’t trust me. That complicated my betrayal plans.
To betray her when and where I wanted, I had to know her better.
The desperate party is the one who flirts.
So, just as I wondered how to wag my tail today—
Zzzzzt, the [Crystal Orb] on my wrist vibrated.
An unknown number. I answered.
—“Professor Dante! The Imperial Stigma Dungeon Authority has accepted!”
It was Shaman’s assistant, Bugi Bugi.
Didn’t recognize the personal number.
“I see.”
That moment, Rebecca whipped her head toward me.
“Dungeon?”
—“Huh? Who are you with right now—”
“Oh, it’s nothing—”
“Wait. Did you just say Stigma Dungeon?”
—“Professor?”
“Bugi Bugi, I’ll call you back.”
I hung up. Rebecca asked:
“What did I just hear? Imperial Stigma Dungeon Authority?”
She sounded a bit heated.
It’s not like I’d hidden it. I just hadn’t told her.
“Yes.”
“Don’t tell me... It’s the Dungeon of Competition↑?”
“Correct.”
“......”
Rebecca’s expression turned grim. For her, even her brow wrinkled—rare.
The Academy’s opening was already looming. Her nerves were on edge.
A strong performance in the Dungeon of Competition↑ would bring Dante Assassination Team into the spotlight.
The Empire, and the world, would grow more curious—about Hiaka’s assassins.
In other words, this was a direct threat to Rebecca’s goal.
“Don’t send them.”
She spoke flatly.
“Don’t send them?”
“Yes. Do not.”
“......”
“Why aren’t you answering? I said don’t send them. You can’t! You know what those kids are like!”
Her words grew hurried. She bit her lip and tried to calm down.
“...Our kids are geniuses rarely seen in history. They’ll definitely rank in the top double digits.”
For the record, the Dungeon of Competition↑ has over 400 years of history.
Millions of registered warriors.
And yet Rebecca was convinced they’d place top 100.
I agreed with her.
“......”
“......”
As Rebecca breathed heavily through her rage, I withheld my answer.
But I found myself wondering.
Putting aside whether we should do this—
Why was she this angry?
“Rebecca. What makes you think that if Hiaka opens to the Empire, we’ll become a vassal state?”
“You don’t know, Professor? How Hattengraj—the mongrel bastards—became part of the Empire?”
“I do. But I still don’t understand why you’re this emotional.”
“Even now it’s happening! The moment Cain emerged as a top professor, the Imperial family assembled a whole team to claim him as one of theirs! Isn’t that obvious enough?”
“Even so, it’s not sufficient proof of vassalization.”
Which is why I was suspicious.
There must be more.
“Is this about your ‘intuition’ again?”
Probably not. Rebecca didn’t strike me as someone who’d rely on that.
“What kind of answer do you want from me? So what if it is intuition?”
“Rebecca.”
“You didn’t consult anyone. You’re just throwing those kids into the Dungeon of Competition↑. What happens when their names get out? You think the Empire will leave them alone? What if Agion comes after Elize tomorrow? You think we can stop him?”
We can. I can stop Agion⁺₊⋆.
Still, she dodged the question.
As a seasoned player, only one possibility came to mind.
“Calm yourself.”
“......”
“One more question.”
I hesitated. This star’s name shouldn’t be said lightly. But now was the time to ask.
“Did you... make a bet with the ‘Gamble Star□ of Fortune and Misfortune’?”
Right after saying it, I checked the 【Script】.
【Dante: “Did you make a cursed bet with ‘Gamble Star⚃ of Fortune and Misfortune’?”】
Ah. Good. The dice roll was 4. Decent luck. If it had landed on 1, it would’ve triggered a disaster today.
The Gamble Star□ symbolizes fortune, misfortune, and gambling. Only players trigger an omen when they speak its name—because it has bad blood with the guardian star, System⧉.
Like water vs fire. Light⁺₊⋆ vs shadow⚉.
System⧉ seeks determinism. Gamble Star□ embodies uncertainty and chance. The two stars are at odds symbolically.
Anyway, back to reality—
“......”
The hostility faded from Rebecca’s face.
But she stayed silent.
Was it a guilty silence?
Or—
“Yes.”
She admitted it.
“I made a bet.”
Then folded her arms and raised her chin.
A silent So what if I did?
I wasn’t interested in ego games with a child.
But mentally, my mind went cold.
“The wager was on whether the department will open?”
“Yes. Duration: three years.”
“......”
Three years.
How convenient.
Three years from now was the Dormant Dragon Academy graduation. Also the start of the Demon King War.
Meaning this bet was deliberately set up to sabotage the Betting Table—a hell-difficulty obstacle.
‘So that’s it.’
I finally understood the full situation.
I’d had Ran run a soul estimate on Rebecca once.
The total was about 5,000 souls.
Enough to cast a Curse in the 90s range once.
Rebecca bet it all on the Gamble Star□.
Three years is long. Department opening is highly likely. So the payout was probably 5x to 10x.
Even at the lowest rate, success means turning 5,000 souls into 25,000.
Failure means losing everything.
“...I see.”
I closed my eyes.
Now I understood why Rebecca was throwing a fit.
She was about to lose every soul she’d hoarded for years.
“Want to know more?”
“...More?”
“You’re digging through my trash right now. Want to keep going? Want to find out just how much of a piece of shit I really am?”
Her breathing had steadied, but not her emotions.
“......”
But there’s a limit to how much I’ll indulge.
Communication was about to break down entirely.
“Princess Rebecca.”
Until now, I had tried to win her favor.
But that didn’t mean I had to accept her tantrums.
“May I ask one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
I looked her straight in the eye and said:
“Don’t act like a little shit.”