* * *

In summary, Cedrick’s point was this: the guild was teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, and our only shot was to claim the legendary treasure of the Southern Sea.

A treasure as fabled as that would surely fetch an astronomical price, enough to make any treasure hunter drool.

“According to our informant, even experienced treasure hunters have been driven away by the Kraken that guards the labyrinth. No one has been able to get past it—it’s a much trickier labyrinth than others.”

With that, Cedrick pulled a book from his coat pocket.

It wasn’t just any book; it was a fairy tale titled ‘The Three Riddles of Belges’.

I took it from him and opened it.

“It’s a tale passed down only in the Southern region. The divine beast Belges presents three riddles to a hero, and if the hero solves them all, they receive the treasure.”

The illustration showed a divine beast shaped like a whale and a hero holding up a sword.

In the hero’s hand was none other than the second Maya’s Stone.

I quickly reviewed the original storyline in my head.

Cedrick, noticing my contemplative silence, cleared his throat and grumbled.

“Unfortunately, the riddles themselves aren’t described in the tale. But there might still be some useful information in there.”

“This book must’ve been hard to find since it’s out of print. How did you manage?”

“……”

“You must’ve been worried. About your brother.”

At Jerome’s pointed comment, Cedrick’s face turned bright red, and he stammered.

“W-Worried? Me? Don’t be ridiculous! I just didn’t want to share in your disgrace! Anyway, I’ve delivered my message. I’m leaving.”

Cedrick hastily left, his awkward demeanor betraying his flustered state.

Jerome, watching me engrossed in the book, grinned meaningfully.

“Brothers really are brothers, huh? He’s got that sharp, fiery charm just like you.”

“We’re not related by blood.”

“And yet, he’s always on edge around you. Especially you.”

“Well, Duke Carlotte’s standards for education are notoriously high.”

Both Cedrick and I had spent our lives striving to win the Duke’s approval, desperate to prove our worth.

His peculiar methods kept us perpetually on edge, shoulders always tense.

Brushing it off, I returned to flipping through the book.

After a long silence, Jerome suddenly closed the book with a snap and asked:

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did struggling against the great ‘Duke Carlotte’ bring you two closer? Enough to sneak into his bedroom late at night with a candle?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his absurd imagination.

He clearly didn’t understand how much Cedrick disliked me.

Ignoring him, I held up the book.

“Stop spouting nonsense and look at this.”

I pointed to an illustration in the book.

It showed a white-bearded whale swimming freely in the ocean—a vessel for Belges, rather than the divine beast itself.

Jerome tilted his head, urging me to continue.

“Belges is much older than other divine beasts. Wise as he was, he knew that when his mind became corrupted by a demon, he’d be turned into a heretic. So, he came up with a plan.”

I turned the page, showing a drawing of a party of heroes being sucked into a massive labyrinth.

The next page depicted the heroes crying as they wandered, lost.

Jerome murmured with interest.

“He deliberately trapped his soul in the labyrinth… to keep it out of the demon’s reach.”

“Right, the Southern Sea’s labyrinth isn’t just any ordinary labyrinth. It’s closer to being a massive fortress hiding Belges’s soul. That’s why it’s supposed to remain hidden beneath the ocean.”

I couldn’t be unaware of this; I had created the setting myself.

Divine Beast Belges, like the mighty Parak, was one of Maya’s most powerful subordinates.

After suffering greatly due to Mephisto, Belges resolved to split its soul and seal it within the labyrinth, refusing to become a puppet of demons.

“For a labyrinth like that to surface… it must be Belges’s way of crying out for help.”

As I explained further about Belges, Jerome suddenly leaned his head against my shoulder.

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced at him.

He’d always been someone who barely listened to what I said, but lately, it had gotten worse.

It was as if he left his mind elsewhere—constantly distracted and unusually drowsy, to the point it made me uneasy just watching him.

“What’s with you these days? You’re never focused when we talk.”

“…”

“You’re definitely hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

Just as I was about to push Jerome’s head away, a large hand caught mine instead.

“Why are you so determined to find Maya’s Stone?”

The sudden question made me freeze.

Already feeling sweltering in the heat, I could sense my face flush even redder.

While I awkwardly wiped my sweat, Jerome, completely unaffected and fresh, turned his gaze toward me.

Struggling, I muttered in a trembling voice.

“Obviously… it’s to destroy Mephisto inside you.”

“Is that really all there is to it?”

Of course, that wasn’t the whole truth.

Ever since I realized I liked Jerome, it wasn’t just about my own survival.

I wanted to destroy Mephisto for his sake.

But I couldn’t bring myself to say that.

Jerome’s grip on my hand tightened, almost urging me for an answer.

My heart pounded faster.

‘But what would change if I said it?’

The rapid beating of my heart slowly calmed. Bowing my head, I thought to myself.

‘Jerome doesn’t love me anyway. Saying I love him won’t change anything. It’s just giving my heart to someone who won’t return it.’

Despite all the challenges that had made me appear to have grown, deep down, I was still terrified of rejection.

That’s why I couldn’t confess until I was certain Jerome loved me too.

As the silence stretched on, Jerome’s grip on my hand loosened.

‘Yes, I don’t want to engage in a love where I’m the only one losing.’

The awkward stillness was interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the door.

The moment it opened with a creak, I instinctively stood up, startled by the familiar faces.

It was Freya, her belly noticeably round, accompanied by a visibly annoyed Marchen.

“Ugh, you two look like a sickeningly sweet couple. Sticking together in this heat, no less.”

“Lady Freya! What brings you here…?”

Freya smiled warmly at my visibly elated reaction.

She was as dazzlingly beautiful as ever.

To think she had made the journey to the capital, heavily pregnant, in a carriage—it only confirmed she wasn’t an ordinary woman.

Freya, supported by Marchen, seated herself on the sofa.

Only then did I notice the beads of sweat on her forehead.

Having grown up in the perpetually cold North, she seemed particularly affected by the current heatwave.

“I came as soon as I heard you were put on trial. I wanted to scare Lebulin.”

“What? Scare them…?”

“Jeanne, you’re the Northern hero I personally endorsed. You’re like the most exquisite gem in my treasure box. If someone dared to scratch such a gem, shouldn’t they face humiliation?”

Even so, for her to come all the way here… I was at a loss for words.

Seeing my conflicted expression, Freya added with a chuckle, “Don’t feel so guilty. I also came to find a skilled midwife, so it’s two birds with one stone.”

Marchen, meeting my gaze, grinned smugly.

“By the way, the weapon enhancements you requested are complete. Ver!”

At Marchen’s snap, Bermut appeared seemingly out of nowhere, carrying a sword and bow on his back.

Startled, I blurted out while staring at him.

“What did Marchen have on you to make you listen to him?”

“Anyway, Maya’s Bow and the Moon King’s Sword? Both are impressive, but with a drop of this potion…”

Marchen gleefully dripped a potion onto the weapons, which glowed momentarily before fading.

He smirked, motioning for me to try.

Hesitantly, I picked up the bow and couldn’t help but exclaim.

“It’s so much lighter!”

“Of course! I infused it with a weight-reduction potion. I also added magical resistance and physical defense. There’s one more feature—try pulling the string.”

As I drew the bowstring, a golden aura surrounded it.

At the bow’s tip, a complex, magic-like sigil appeared.

Marchen stroked his chin, clearly pleased.

“No matter how strong a weapon is, if it’s not beautiful, it’s just junk. I’ve redesigned its appearance to reflect my aesthetics!”

While I didn’t care much for aesthetics, I thanked Marchen with a smile, noting his proud claim of being the Empire’s greatest alchemist.

‘I’m so glad I got Marchen on my side. If someone like him had sided with Luke like in the original, I wouldn’t have stood a chance in the guild selection tournament.’

Relieved, I turned my attention back to Freya, who suddenly spoke in a cheerful tone.

“Jeanne, could I speak with Jerome alone? I have something to discuss regarding the monsters.”

Her unusually somber demeanor made me pause.

The emphasis on “alone” suggested this was a sensitive matter.

Seeing Jerome resting his chin on his hand, seemingly disinterested, I rose to my feet.

“Of course, please speak freely. Marchen, Bermut, let’s go.”

Ignoring their complaints about the heat, I led them out of the guild house.

As we walked, a nagging unease settled in my chest.

‘What is Jerome hiding from me?’

I tried to shake off the creeping anxiety as I moved forward.

* * *