* * *

The southern region of the Kaisar Empire, home to Baker Port—the empire’s largest harbor and its most vital trading hub—was also infamous for being a haven for pirates from all across the continent.

As Layla stretched her arms high after several days on the ship, workers busily unloaded its cargo.

The treasures she’d painstakingly acquired on her arduous journey—relics, weapons, jewels—were being offloaded one by one, drawing the curious gazes and hushed murmurs of the local townsfolk.

With her crimson hair blowing in the wind, Layla brushed it back and spoke.

“It was a good call to change course midway. Who knew the wind would shift so suddenly?”

“The southern seas are known for their fickle temperament. What would you like to do about your meal, Your Highness?”

“Feed the workers first. I’ve got somewhere to stop by.”

Layla hurried off, her steps quick and purposeful, prompting Rotte to scramble after her.

Her destination turned out to be a souvenir shop.

Bending his large frame closer, Rotte whispered.

“Your Highness, has something caught your eye?”

Rotte had served Layla since she was a child.

From what he knew, his young mistress took pleasure in the thrill of discovering treasures but rarely showed interest in material things.

After all, she was in a position to acquire anything she desired.

Yet, seeing Layla so engrossed in picking out items was a rare sight indeed.

She answered casually.

“I have a friend, you know. Whenever I think of him, I always end up stopping by places like this. He’s got a face that’s fun to decorate.”

“Your friend, Your Highness? I’d very much like to meet him someday.”

“Haha, I’ll introduce you when we return to the capital. He’s a genuinely fun and wonderful guy.”

Layla picked up a fan adorned with peacock feathers, deep in thought.

Now that she considered it, she hadn’t had a chance to check in on Jeanne these past few months due to her busy schedule.

Constantly on the move, even sending letters felt futile, as replies couldn’t reach her.

Tilting her head, Layla mused aloud.

“Now that I’m talking about him, I miss him all of a sudden. I wonder if he’s thinking about me. Hopefully, he’s not being tormented by some weird person.”

“Your Highness!”

As Layla’s mind wandered to her friend’s face, a sailor came running toward her, panting heavily.

Surprised, Layla turned to him.

“What’s going on?”

“Well… You should come see for yourself.”

Seeing the sailor’s pale complexion, Layla’s expression hardened.

She abandoned her souvenir shopping and hurried back to the harbor, where she was greeted by a strange sight.

Floating on the blue sea was a massive labyrinth, sparking a flurry of excited chatter among the townsfolk.

“So the legend was true!”

“You mean the one about the southern sea labyrinth hiding an incredible treasure?”

Eavesdropping on their conversation, Layla turned to the sailor.

“Has anyone scouted the inside?”

“Treasure hunters tried to enter, but the door wouldn’t budge. Oh, and they said there’s an inscription on a stone at the entrance.”

“An inscription?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Clearing his throat, the sailor recited it slowly.

“To the wise who understand value, treasures will be granted. To those who do not… everlasting death awaits.”

A smile spread across Layla’s lips as she listened.

That ominous labyrinth had to be a Siren.

Sirens were mermaids that lured curious adventurers to their deaths.

Tying her disheveled hair into a bun, Layla spoke with renewed energy.

“Well, isn’t this perfect? He’d definitely prefer this over some souvenir.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After the morning classes ended, it was guild time.

As the blazing sun bore down, I collapsed onto the floor the moment I reached the guildhouse.

From my vantage point, I locked eyes with Jerome, who was sprawled out on the sofa.

Even someone with his formidable magical power seemed powerless against the heat. With a sigh, I asked.

“Can’t you use your magic to cool things down? Surely you’ve got a spell for that.”

“It’s so hot I’m starting to hallucinate my late father’s face.”

“What are you talking about? Your dad’s still alive.”

I suddenly remembered how Jerome had been fine in the frigid north.

Maybe it was because his body naturally ran hot, making him extra vulnerable to the heat.

Forcing myself upright, I threw open all the windows, letting in a refreshing breeze that slightly eased the oppressive warmth.

The sudden heatwave had stirred unsettling rumors across the empire—some said it was a harbinger of catastrophe; others claimed the anger of the Goddess Maya demanded a rain ritual.

But the most plausible theory was the heretical transformation of Belges, the sacred beast of the south.

Belges, a whale who protected the southern seas and maintained the marine ecosystem, had reportedly turned rogue.

The rising ocean temperatures, the mass death of fish, and the mysterious shipwrecks were all attributed to this phenomenon.

‘The floating labyrinth in the southern sea… Just like the original story.’

As soon as I opened the window, sparrows flew in as if they had been waiting.

Tossing bits of bread to the heat-weary birds, I asked.

“We’re heading south the day after tomorrow. Are you packed yet?”

No response.

Frowning, I turned to see Jerome still sprawled out, hugging a sofa cushion.

He muttered weakly.

“A test to find treasure hidden in a labyrinth? I can’t do it. Labyrinths are enclosed spaces, and they remind me of being trapped in the sanatorium. Just thinking about it makes me feel suffocated.”

“…”

“I’ll probably die there, just like my father—”

“He’s alive!”

Perhaps it was the heat, but Jerome seemed unusually fragile.

With his long legs hanging off the sofa, he curled into himself.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. Please, just don’t talk to me today.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching Jerome, it’s that despite being a remarkably talented mage, he has the mental fortitude of a jellyfish.

When faced with something he doesn’t want or thinks he can’t do, he collapses entirely.

Perched on the armrest of the sofa, I looked down at him.

“The people who idolize you should really see this side of you.”

“…”

“If you’re scared of a little closed space, how are you supposed to destroy Mephisto?”

Sometimes he seemed like a world-weary old man, but at times like this, he was just an overgrown boy.

Jerome sat up slowly, his messy hair framing his face.

He looked as if he’d been through hell, shadows under his eyes betraying his inner turmoil.

“Praise me.”

“What?”

“Give me some praise. You said you’d teach me how to be happy, right? Hearing you praise me might make me happy right now.”

Caught off guard by his sudden request, I was at a loss for words.

“Jerome” and “praise” felt as mismatched as “first love” and “a garbage bag.”

But if he stayed this way, it’d make things harder for me.

After some deep thought, I hesitantly began listing his traits.

“Well, you’re cunning, gloomy, a sadist who enjoys watching people despair, a pervert who’s always in heat, willing to use any means to win, and…”

“…”

“Wait, what was I trying to say again?”

“…What’s the point of living…”

Jerome, having completely lost his will to fight, pressed his face into the couch cushion.

If I was the type to fall easily but get up quickly, Jerome was the type who rarely stumbled—but once he did, he couldn’t get back up.

I forcibly pulled the cushion away from Jerome, who seemed on the verge of suffocating himself.

“If you’re scared of confined spaces, then you should’ve reacted like this when you were swallowed by that giant snake. But you didn’t, did you? Something else is bothering you, isn’t it?”

“……”

“Come on, just tell me. What’s weighing on your mind?”

Jerome flinched at my words, which hit the mark. The strength in his grip on the cushion began to wane.

Seizing the moment, I yanked the cushion away and locked eyes with him.

Instead of his usual despondent expression, a sly smile greeted me.

Meeting my gaze, Jerome leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“You really are weak against men who evoke pity rather than those who are overbearing. I’ll have to use that more often.”

“……”

“As if I’d have any weaknesses. Don’t worry, Jeanne. Unlike my father, I won’t leave my family behind irresponsibly.”

Jerome, who had somehow regained his vigor, looked at me with affectionate eyes.

Rubbing the spot on my forehead where his lips had pressed, I answered begrudgingly.

“I told you, I’m not dying…”

Bang!

The door slammed open, revealing a familiar face.

Cedrick’s expression darkened as he looked back and forth between Jerome and me.

With a scoff, he raised his voice, veins bulging in his neck.

“You’re both unbelievably lazy! Stop lying around and go pull some weeds or something! And Jerome Howard, why do you keep breaking the training dummies? Do you have any idea how expensive they are?”

“I just can’t control my strength…”

“If you break one more guild-owned dummy, I’ll break your head instead. Got it?”

As expected, Cedrick, the no-nonsense taskmaster, was as merciless as ever, even in front of Jerome, who was once called a hero.

Jerome deflated under the scolding.

Feeling a sense of vindication, I smirked and chimed in.

“Tsk, tsk. Let me guess—you were showing off your strength and broke it. Cedrick, give him a good dressing-down. This guy needs to be scolded until he cries. He has no appreciation for the value of things—or people.”

“You’re no different. How many books have you bought with guild funds? Thanks to the two of you, the guild is on the verge of bankruptcy. Do you even realize that?”

Cedrick pointed to the wall filled with rare books—my collection, amassed little by little since I found myself inside this novel.

I avoided his accusing gaze, clearing my throat.

“Well… but the guild funds I used came from the prize money I won in that archery contest…”

“That money was spent entirely on fixing this guildhouse, remember?”

In the end, Jerome and I sat side by side, kneeling as Cedrick ranted.

He fumed that running the guild with our spending habits was harder than running a country.

Jerome, however, seemed unbothered, as if he were silently counting the floral patterns on the wallpaper.

Frustrated by our lack of remorse, Cedrick slammed his palm on the table.

Bang!

“I’m no longer surprised by the messes you two make, but at least take responsibility while you’re at it—whether it’s causing trouble or taking someone down.”

“……”

“I won’t waste words.”

Cedrick tilted his chin up with a haughty expression.

“Just bring back the treasure from that labyrinth. The treasure of the Southern Sea.”

* * *