In the past, beyond the monitor, I had uploaded several strategy guides to online communities. It wasn’t out of a desire to help others, but more to showcase how much effort I had poured into the game.
So when Arthur asked me to teach him dungeon strategies, I didn’t think much of it. I figured I could just share the same tips I had written on those community posts.
But as I began writing things down on paper, I realized that wouldn’t work. Arthur wasn’t a person behind a monitor—he was someone who had to enter the dungeon and fight monsters directly.
It was impossible for him to understand methods tailored for players in a game.
So, I erased everything I’d written and started over. I recalled my own experiences when I first began clearing dungeons in Soul Academy, remembering the foundations I had built while tackling all kinds of modes and challenges.
The resulting book became an extraordinary creation. If someone could master everything written inside, they’d be capable of clearing any dungeon in this world.
Of course, the sheer volume of content made it a monstrosity of a book, one most people wouldn’t dare to read. But I didn’t bother revising it.
After all, the only person who would read it was Arthur. With his intelligence stat well over 100, he’d surely understand it with ease.
His base intelligence was twice what I had achieved after a full year of effort. If I could manage with an intelligence stat of 58, how could someone like Arthur possibly fail? It didn’t make sense!
That’s why I was genuinely looking forward to seeing Arthur lead the dungeon today. He had been so confident before we entered.
I even wondered if I’d been too generous with the time limit. But as the strategy unfolded, I quickly realized I had overestimated him.
First of all, he struggled with navigation. I’d explained that dungeon crossroads follow certain patterns, and he failed to identify them, leading to repeated wrong turns. Then there was his insistence on fighting every single mob, even though I had told him to skip unnecessary encounters. And during the boss fight, he was so busy moving around that he completely ignored the mechanics.
Honestly, I nearly broke my teeth trying to hold back from giving him advice mid-run. It was excruciating.
In the end, watching him flounder with none of the techniques from my book properly internalized, I could already see the outcome of the bet.
And as expected, Arthur failed to clear the dungeon within the four-hour limit.
“Six hours. It took you six hours.”
“Oh my, are my eyes deceiving me? Why does it seem like six hours have passed? Surely the confident, pitiable prince wouldn’t have failed?”
Arthur bit his lip at my mockery, offering no rebuttal. He was probably reflecting on his mistakes. At the very least, it seemed he was aware of what he had done wrong.
“Lady Allen.”
Just as I was relieved he seemed to realize his errors, Joy stepped in to defend him.
“Please don’t put all the blame on His Highness. The delay is partly our fault as well.”
Her words gave me plenty of opportunities to counter.
Given our party’s current abilities, four hours should have been more than enough time.
If he hadn’t taken the wrong paths so often, we wouldn’t have run out of time.
And frankly, failing to properly manage the party was a leadership flaw.
But I chose not to say any of that. There was no point in pointing out mistakes Arthur already knew he had made. Instead, I simply led the group to the next dungeon.
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“Third Prince, watch closely.”
“Pitiable Prince, pay attention. I’ll show you just how lacking your leadership was.”
Sometimes, the best way to teach someone is to demonstrate the ideal they should aim for.
When we entered the next dungeon, Arthur expected Lucy to showcase her signature strategy: a method that seemed to analyze everything within the dungeon, as though reading countless futures to select the optimal path.
But this time, Lucy didn’t use that approach. Instead of acting like a prophet, she led them like a seasoned mercenary.
“There are weaklings up ahead. No need for magic here. Clumsy noble, just prep your magic circle.”
“Did they set up traps like this? How boring.”
“Don’t bother with the trash mobs following us. Running is a better use of our time than wasting effort on those fools.”
“This weakling is a filthy pervert who can only look at someone as cute as me. I’ll draw its attention, so hit it from behind. Your magic may be clumsy, but it’s still better than this pervert’s skills.”
Though Lucy avoided her usual eccentric methods and opted for a more standard strategy, her pace was still extraordinary by any measure.
Even the dungeon guardian, who had expected an all-day affair, was left in shock when they completed the run in just an hour. Lucy Allen, even when following conventional methods, was a force that inspired awe in others.
After clearing two dungeons that day, they returned to the lodging. Arthur shut himself in his room to reflect on the day’s events.
He had thought he understood the theories in Lucy’s book, but once put into practice, he realized his arrogance.
His numerous mistakes were to be expected. Focused on his own actions, he had failed to properly command the others.
The dungeon’s difficulty was low compared to their abilities, and losing the bet was entirely his fault.
The only consolation was that Lucy Allen had demonstrated what he needed to fix.
She could have used her prophetic approach but instead chose the knight’s path to guide them through the dungeon. Her intention was clear: she wanted to show Arthur the direction he needed to take.
Arthur trailed behind Lucy, imprinting every detail of her movements into his memory. He realized something important—Lucy Allen performed everything written in her book as naturally as breathing.
It wasn’t just skill; it was as though the very essence of dungeon strategy was ingrained in her being.
Witnessing this, Arthur was struck by how monstrous Lucy truly was. Yet, at the same time, he gained an essential realization.
What mattered most was perspective. A leader guiding a dungeon run must not only focus on what’s ahead but must encompass the entire surrounding environment in their mind. Only then could they lead flawlessly.
To do this instinctively, one would need to reach a level where strategy became second nature.
Reflecting on Lucy’s kindness and considering whether something external might distort her true feelings, Arthur wrestled with unanswered questions.
At some point, a knock at his door snapped him out of his thoughts. Turning toward the sound, he noticed his pen’s ink had dried as he stared blankly at the paper.
“Your Highness, do you have a moment?”
“Joy? What is it? Come in.”
Joy entered, glancing at the open book on Arthur’s desk before lowering her head apologetically.
“Forgive me for disturbing you so late.”
“No need for apologies. What’s the matter, Joy? You were making such a fuss about being tired earlier.”
“Ah, well, um... Lady Allen asked me to deliver something to you.”
Arthur blinked at the rabbit-eared headband Joy handed him.
“What is this?”
“It’s a headband.”
“I know that. I mean... Is this the punishment Lucy Allen mentioned?”
“Yes. She said you have to wear it for the rest of the trip.”
“Unbelievable.”
Arthur cursed under his breath, but that didn’t make the headband disappear.
After a long pause, he sighed deeply and reluctantly put it on. Joy quickly pulled out a fan to cover her mouth, but the fan couldn’t hide her muffled laughter.
“Just laugh openly already.”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dare...! Pfft... Hahaha.”
Arthur, his face flushed, opened his mouth to scold her but froze when he noticed Frey standing in the doorway.
“So, the Third Prince has that kind of taste. Fair enough.”
“It’s not what it looks like! Frey, listen—!”
“It’s fine. It suits you.”
Frey, maintaining a straight face, spoke nonchalantly before walking away down the corridor. Stunned by the unexpected reaction, Arthur quickly chased after him.
“Wait! Let me explain! Please, let me preserve my honor!”
After delivering Arthur’s punishment, Lucy stepped out into the bustling night streets of the archipelago with Karia, who had shed her disguise, and Cal, her escort.
The nightlife was rowdy and chaotic. Adventurers drank heavily to forget their hardships, losing control and shouting wildly. Fights broke out in one corner, while vomiting sounds came from another. The scene reminded Lucy of the university nightlife from before she arrived in this world.
Experienced adventurers shook their heads at the disorderly crowd but refrained from intervening. They knew better than to waste energy dealing with troublemakers.
The person Lucy was looking for stood among those watching the brawling men with a disdainful expression.
“Heyshan. Have you been waiting long?”
As Karia pulled out a chair and greeted the woman named Heyshan, she shrugged.
“No, I just got here.”
“Good. This is my employer, the person who wanted to meet you. I’m sure you already know their name.”
Heyshan’s face twisted in shock as she recognized Lucy. It wasn’t surprising—Lucy Allen’s infamy preceded her.
This kind of reaction was nothing new to Lucy. Rather than offering an explanation, she sighed, crossed her arms, and sat down in the chair Cal pulled out for her.
"Lucy Allen. Pleased to meet you."
"To think someone who knows my name couldn’t manage their expression. How typical of an uneducated, ignorant commoner—dim-witted and rude."
"A-Ah! I’m terribly sorry, Lady Allen. I’m Heyshan, an adventurer who recently achieved an A-rank just a few months ago."
Regaining her composure, Heyshan gave an impeccably polished bow that belied her commoner origins.
Anyone unfamiliar with her story might raise their eyebrows in admiration of her refinement, but not me. Without such sophistication, she wouldn’t have been able to befriend the Second Queen, once a duchess herself.
"I heard a noble wanted to meet me, but I never imagined it would be the infamous Lady Allen of the Allen family. I’m so shocked I seem to have lost my words for a moment."
Heyshan’s awkward laugh prompted me to offer her a smile in return, intending to reassure her. Unfortunately, judging by her stiffened expression, the smile likely had the opposite effect. It must’ve been that unsettling edge my Mesugaki Skill lent to my expression.
"Why would a lady of your stature want to meet with an insignificant adventurer like me?"
"Your friend has been looking for you."
“Even a lowly commoner like you seems to have redeeming qualities if someone out there is still willing to search for you.”
“A... friend?” Heyshan tilted her head, clearly confused.
Before she could ask further, Karia sighed and interjected. "Employer, let me handle the explanation. Just stay quiet for now."
I nodded silently. That was probably for the best.