After waiting in silence for quite some time and hearing no further response within his mind, Glenn cast one last glance at the giant’s corpse. Then, hoisting the crimson greatsword onto his shoulder, he turned and walked away.

  The corridor was far from spacious, and dragging such a massive weapon out of the ruins cost him no small amount of effort.

  When he finally emerged on the surface, he found everyone present, which meant they had already finished hauling up everything that needed moving.

  A few of them were grinning foolishly at the jewels in their hands, but the moment they noticed Glenn, their smiles vanished instantly. They hurriedly set their spoils aside and approached him with obsequious expressions.

  Glenn paid no mind to their fawning. He merely turned back and pulled the crimson greatsword from the deep pit.

  The instant the others caught sight of the weapon’s exquisite form, gasps rippled through the group; their eyes widened and their mouths hung open in astonishment.

  “Glenn! What is that?! Where did you get it?!” Leafy hopped beneath the blade, reaching out curiously to touch it.

  “This is… a super greatsword!” Mushroom declared solemnly after a moment of deep thought, earnestly educating Leafy.

  Glenn set the crimson blade aside, leaving it to the two girls’ admiration, while he addressed the others:

  “I’ve already explored every part of the ruins below. All the dangers have been cleared. Divide yourselves into teams and head down to bring up anything of value. I’ve marked every room that holds something worthwhile…”

  He then explained the layout of the deeper chambers and the meaning of the symbols he had left behind.

  Just as he was about to order them to begin working, Leafy walked over and asked, “Glenn, shouldn’t we eat first?”

  At her words, grateful looks were immediately shot her way.

  They had been working for hours—they were starving.

  The reminder made Glenn realize he was hungry as well. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even eaten breakfast.

  “Fine. Let’s fill our stomachs first.”

  …

  The Royal Capital. Saint Arting District.

  Inside a lavish villa, a breathtakingly beautiful young noblewoman stood before her vanity, adjusting her hair.

  Suddenly, her fingers stilled.

  In the next instant, the ornate chamber vanished from her perception, replaced by a void—a realm of absolute emptiness. After several seconds, reality returned to normal.

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  Her delicate brows knit ever so slightly. She tapped her chin with a slender finger and murmured to herself, “Strange… why did it die so suddenly?”

  Before her words had fully faded, a maid’s voice drifted in from outside the door:

  “Lady Illya, your friends have arrived. They are waiting for you.”

  Illya, the noblewoman in question, opened her door, revealing a smile capable of enchanting countless boys—and perhaps even girls.

  “Let’s go. We mustn’t keep my friends waiting.”

  The maid kept her head lowered, never daring to meet her lady’s eyes, yet even so, Illya’s melodious voice quickened her heartbeat.

  “Y-yes, my lady. Allow me to lead the way,” the maid stammered.

  Illya’s smile deepened at the sight.

  Though this was her own home and she hardly needed guidance, today’s banquet—hosted by Illya’s mother—had filled the main hall with guests. To avoid interruptions, the maid would lead her along a secluded route to where her friends were gathered.

  As they walked down the corridor, faint strains of music and conversation drifted from the ballroom.

  When they passed a balcony overlooking the hall, Illya suddenly stopped.

  The maid, ever watchful, halted immediately and asked softly, “Is something the matter, Lady Illya?”

  Illya closed her eyes, saying nothing. After a brief silence, her ethereal voice emerged:

  “What is this melody? Why have I never heard it before? It feels as though I’ve stepped into another world.”

  The maid listened for a moment, then smiled.

  “This is Master Dangome’s latest composition—The Ugly Duckling. It was written for a story, so it is perfectly normal that you haven’t heard it before.”

  “A story?” Illya’s curiosity stirred. “I heard Master Dangome had long ceased composing, perhaps forever. What manner of tale could compel him to take up his pen again?”

  The maid seemed well-informed. After choosing her words carefully, she replied:

  “They say it’s a new kind of tale told to children—what they call a ‘fairy tale.’ It comes from a remote town in the Bartsey region. The stories originally circulated only in that area, but after the demon invasion, they spread with the refugees. The Ugly Duckling is one from that collection.”

  Illya’s expression brightened with interest.

  “See to it that the full collection of these fairy tales is gathered and brought to my room—and a record of Master Dangome’s new piece as well.”

  The maid naturally agreed, and they continued on.

  After several turns, a brightly lit room washed in warm amber light appeared ahead, echoing with laughter and conversation.

  As Illya entered, all eyes were drawn to her.

  The room was enormous—nearly rivaling the banquet hall itself. A dozen or so young nobles stood within, each dressed in resplendent attire.

  “My apologies for keeping you waiting,” Illya said with graceful sincerity, offering a noble’s curtsey.

  Her appearance stunned the gathering; for a heartbeat, no one responded. Only after her voice faded did a few of them recover enough to reply awkwardly.

  “To behold the lovely Lady Illya, we would wait an eternity.”

  “Lady Illya, you are as enchanting as ever—you left us momentarily speechless, haha…”

  “Lady Illya, please grant me the honor of a dance later.”

  Illya met their enthusiasm with ease, returning each greeting with perfect poise, leaving none feeling ignored.

  “Lady Illya, I cherished the gift you gave me for my birthday,” said a blond young man.

  The moment he spoke, all others fell silent.

  “So today, I’ve prepared the finest gift for you. I’m certain you will like it.”

  He was none other than Prince Gaal, the fourth prince of the kingdom.

  “I am delighted Your Highness enjoyed my gift. Likewise, I am eager to see what you have prepared for me.”

  Every motion, every smile Illya offered sent hearts racing—none more so than Prince Gaal’s, who stood closest to her.

  Even the faintest smile from her awakened a fierce desire within him, a yearning to embrace her—yet he restrained himself, terrified of overstepping, terrified of earning even the slightest displeasure.

  A mischievous glint flickered in Illya’s eyes. She knew she must not tease the prince too much; restraint was essential. So, in the next moment, she shifted her attention to the others.

  “Now then,” she said softly, “let us begin our tea gathering.”