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Cestlavie felt as if a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest, suffocating him.

“Ugh…” He tried to move, but the oppressive force was so great it felt as if a giant were pinning him down, leaving him unable to move or even breathe.

—I know this feeling. I will never forget the fear and despair of that day.

Through blurred vision, Cestlavie saw a dark shadow, like despair itself made manifest, standing arrogantly against a sky dyed crimson, like spilled blood. The shadow sneered at the boy’s helplessness.

“You are powerless.”
He struggled to stand, but his body refused to obey.

“You cannot do anything.”
He tried to retort, but only a raspy wheeze escaped his throat.

“That is why you will lose what is most precious to you.”
In the shadow’s hand was a beautiful girl with long, cherry blossom-colored hair, dangling helplessly as the shadow’s grip tightened around her neck.

“Only after loss will you realize… your folly.”
The shadow’s grip tightened further. The girl twitched briefly, her eyes opening wide in agony before she went still—

“Stop it—!!”

Cestlavie woke up, shouting from his nightmare. He stared at the dingy ceiling above him and exhaled lightly. After taking a moment to regulate his breathing, he turned his gaze toward the window.

The window wasn’t adorned with expensive glass panes like those found in noble estates, churches, or the homes of wealthy merchants. Instead, it was a simple wooden shutter with diamond-shaped holes spaced evenly apart, letting in the wind. (When the weather turned cold, these holes were sealed, transforming the room into a complete pit of darkness.) Judging by the strength of the sunlight filtering through, it was late morning, though not quite midday.

Guess I’ll wash my face and head down to the dining hall for breakfast.

With that thought, he started to sit up—only to feel the same heavy pressure on his chest as in his dream. He looked down.

Somehow, a large, white cat with wings, roughly the size of a large cushion, had climbed into his bed and curled up on top of him as if it owned the place.

“…Hey.”

Cestlavie’s voice was laced with irritation, his foul mood compounded by the nightmare. The winged cat cracked one eye open, yawned lazily, and promptly went back to sleep, looking utterly content.

“…Hey, move it.”

He gave it a gentle shake. The cat stretched as if inconvenienced, sluggishly turned 180 degrees, pointed its tail at him, and curled up again.

“…Alright, I’m giving you until the count of three. If you’re not off by then, I’ll use force.” At his warning, the winged cat turned its head slightly toward him, then snorted dismissively as if mocking him.

“…the nerve. You’re asking for this..”

Cestlavie, already irritated by the cat’s original owner—a pretty boy with annoyingly perfect features and blonde hair to match—prepared for action. He slid a talisman between his index and middle fingers, assuming a throwing stance.

Incidentally, why this winged cat exists in this world remains a mystery.

Ten months ago, after being caught in that explosion, it had somehow slipped into their group without anyone noticing.

“Well, cats do have a habit of sneaking into unexpected places,” Coppelia had said with a strange sort of understanding that made no sense. Regardless, they couldn’t just abandon the cat. Furthermore, there was no way Jill could keep such an obviously monster-like creature in the church, so Cestlavie reluctantly took it in. However, they maintained a careful distance from each other—essentially a long-standing cold war.

Amid this tense atmosphere, the light fluttering of wings drew his attention as a white dove entered the room through one of the holes in the window.

The dove, behaving unnaturally, landed directly on the pillow without any hesitation, catching Cestlavie’s attention.

“—Hm? Are you the shikigami I left with Jill?”

As if responding to his words, the dove cooed once before its form shimmered like a heat haze and transformed into an origami bird.

At the mention of “Jill,” the winged cat, which had moved from Cestlavie’s chest to his pillow, extended a paw and batted at the origami as if urging him to hurry up and check it.

Sighing in exasperation, Cestlavie stowed away the talisman he had been holding. He sat up, reached for the origami, and unfolded it with practiced efficiency, returning it to a single sheet of paper.

On the paper, elegant and meticulous handwriting that he recognized immediately greeted him.

“…Prince Corrad of the Aulanthia Kingdom? What is she up to now? —Good grief. Meeting up to discuss the details, huh?”

Scratching his messy, bedhead-ridden hair, Cestlavie felt the familiar foreboding of trouble brewing. Yet, whether consciously or unconsciously, the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—it had been roughly two weeks since he last received a letter from Jill.

The winged cat, perched on the pillow, watched the boy with clear disinterest, seemingly unimpressed by the faint smile spreading across his face.

♦♢♦♢

Around the holy city of Thera Maryth lie numerous labyrinths.

The Clorinda Flame Labyrinth sprawling beneath the Sacred Mount Clorinda. The Ottavia Sky Labyrinth, nestled within the towering Ottavia Mountain Range in the west. The Unicorn Forest, home to the holy beast, the unicorn. The Sidonia Grand Labyrinth, endlessly stretching within the unfathomable Sidon Grand Canyon.

And countless smaller labyrinths and monster dens dot the landscape as well.

Faced with these labyrinths, as though placed there purely out of spite, the city attracts many who dream of striking it rich: adventurers seeking fortune and glory, as well as clergy who see these trials as sacred tests of faith and undertake them as part of their training.

Naturally, where there is human activity, there is also money to be made. Shrewd merchants, guilds of all kinds, and money-hungry members of the Church eagerly provide support, ensuring a steady influx of adventurers. As a result, Thera Maryth is home to a large community of adventurers, alongside numerous related guilds and inns lining the streets.

♦♢♦♢

The term “doggy bag” (leftover container) is a derogatory nickname for solo adventurers who hunt primarily in the mid-to-lower levels of dungeons.

These individuals are often rookies with poor skills and subpar equipment, or semi-retired adventurers limited by injuries and unable to push themselves further. They make their living by scavenging herbs that grow on the shallow levels, low-grade ores, or monsters that deeper-level adventurers kill but leave behind as unnecessary baggage. They strip these monsters of their mana stones or materials and eke out a meager existence. Such individuals are hardly worthy of the title “adventurer” and are often seen as little more than misfits.

To the general public, they are objects of disdain and ridicule. However, much like scavengers play a vital role in maintaining balance in the natural world, these “doggy bag” adventurers serve an important purpose. By cleaning up the dungeon’s lower levels, they prevent the proliferation of highly reproductive creatures like slimes, which feed on such refuse. Adventurer guilds, recognizing this through experience, often actively assign these tasks to novice adventurers.

Meanwhile, more capable adventurers view these roles as a proving ground for beginners.

Will they settle for mediocrity here, or will they use this as a stepping stone to strive for greater heights? Either way, it’s a rite of passage that they themselves once endured. So, they watch silently, out of a mix of old-fashioned concern—and perhaps a touch of schadenfreude.

♦♢♦♢

“Your total earnings for today come to 62 silver coins and 50 copper coins. After deducting a 15% tax and handling fee, would you like the payment in cash or deposited into your designated account?”

The female staff member, who had the air of a career professional, presented the detailed breakdown on a sheet of paper.

After confirming there were no issues with the document, Cestlavie slid his silver guild badge across the counter. “Deposit 50 silver coins into my account. I’ll take the rest in cash.”

He opted to keep just enough for immediate living expenses, depositing the remainder into his guild-designated account—incidentally held at Ice Bank, reputed to have its headquarters in the Superempire and usable across the continent.

After pocketing the cash into a coin pouch, Cestlavie turned to leave the guild. However, a group of burly men—presumably adventurers—blocked his way.

“Well, look who’s raking it in for an E-rank adventurer.”

The men surrounded him with grins that carried no goodwill.

In the past year, Cestlavie had grown quite a bit taller, now standing over 170 centimertes—something he quietly took pride in, as it surpassed Jill. However, the men looming over him were all at least 180 centimertes tall, their rugged physiques starkly contrasting his still-slender frame. A direct fight would almost certainly end poorly for him.

What a pain…

Cestlavie understood that, even among “doggy bags” like himself, he stood out.

Though he lacked any proper weaponry, he routinely returned from dungeons with a full haul of loot, earning rewards comparable to D-rank adventurers. Naturally, this earned him suspicion and disdain, with plenty of others finding him bothersome—or outright shady. Encounters like this were hardly rare.

Most of the time, though, the people causing trouble were low-level adventurers around E or F rank, easily brushed off. This group, however, seemed different. Judging by their equipment and demeanor, they were likely seasoned veterans.

Just as Cestlavie subtly shifted his stance to prepare to cast a spell if needed, the bearded man who appeared to be their leader, somewhere in his thirties, raised both empty hands in a gesture of non-aggression. “Whoa there, kid. Don’t get the wrong idea. We’ve just got a good deal to offer you.”

“I don’t trust so-called ‘good deals’ from strangers,” Cestlavie replied curtly.

The bearded man broke into a grin. “Fair enough. I’m Shimlar, the leader of this party. These are my teammates. Now, you’re a solo adventurer, right? Word is you can use magic. Is that true?”

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