Gunther, having barely checked the contents of the Hierarchy task, immediately opened the affinity window.
♥ Marien: 100 / 100 (Affinity status fixed due to death)
Ryan: 99 / 100
Eddie: 50 / 100
Brody: 70 / 100
Roanna: 20 / 100
Yor: 65 / 100
Kalian: 45 / 100
Dimona: 55 / 100
Parco: 60 / 100
Levain: 70 / 100
Tarsha: 60 / 100
Blanc: 50 / 100
Nine: 15 / 100
Mikhela: 40 / 100
Seraz: 40 / 100
Sharin: 25 / 100
The numbers were quite solid. Over this time, they had gone through more than a few serious dangers together, so their affinity had risen to a level that was almost hard to believe—especially considering that Act 1 had only just ended.
However, affinity was ultimately like a level. The higher it rose, the slower its growth became. It was enough to say that even Ryan, with whom he had shared both grief and joy for years like a brother, still hadn’t reached 100.
“To hit a hundred, you need to clear individual scenarios.”
In that sense, Marie reaching 100 in such a short time was an exception. Of course, the nature of the Illusion space had played a role... but more importantly, it was how lonely she had been—and how perfectly Gunther had filled that void. That was what affinity was: you had to find a unique approach for each person, for their inner world.
“...I need to raise Roanna, Nine, and Sharin to 40, and Parco, Blanc, and Tarsha to 70.”
With Sharin, something could probably be worked out if he kept playing along with her experiments. But with Roanna and Nine, there was no clarity at all. Roanna wasn’t the type to open up, and with Nine, they didn’t even have the kind of connection that could be called comradeship. ...Honestly, he didn’t even understand how Nine had reached 15 points.
Things weren’t simple with the platoon members either. The density of time spent together had been high, but what each of them truly wanted and what circumstances they were hiding—those were ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) still unknown. Though Gunther had a rough idea why Levain’s affinity was rising faster than the others. As a temporary leader, he had been burdened by the weight of “command.” Watching Gunther handle that role flawlessly, he developed respect and trust that turned into fondness. But as for Parco, Blanc, and Tarsha—he couldn’t immediately identify any leverage points.
[Alphonse of Red Street clicks his tongue while looking at you. For him, nothing is easier than making friends]
[The Drug-Addicted Saint deeply sympathizes with your feelings...]
[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats says sincerity always finds a way]
“...I do have a couple of ideas...”
Because of these thoughts, Gunther’s expression grew increasingly troubled as he entered Eterno Cheongdam. Who should he start with... and how should he approach them?
The Hierarchy task absolutely could not be failed. Otherwise, the chance would be lost forever. In a sense, this was more important than any scenario he had cleared so far. No matter what, he would achieve it within a month.
Gunther made that promise to himself.
.
.
.
— Damn it, I seriously can’t do this.
— Gunther.
Parco’s coffee-colored face stiffened for a moment. He looked straight at Gunther and spoke firmly:
— It’s not just because I want to. It’s necessary for the entire platoon.
— ...Why?
— If my pain threshold increases, all of you will be safer!
With those words, Parco carefully placed the steel rod—one Gunther had just thrown away—back into his hand. Gunther shuddered and immediately tossed it aside again.
— Ah, damn it all!
— Why not?! You asked what I wanted! You were the one who tempted me!
— What do you mean tempted, you idiot?!
[The One Who Takes and Divides watches you, chuckling]
Of course, Gunther understood. Parco wasn’t serious—he was just showing his peculiar sense of playfulness. Lately, the atmosphere had been so tense that he simply wanted to chat about nothing and fool around a bit. ...That’s how it should have been.
But it couldn’t continue. Especially not after Gunther caught those damn freeloaders peeking through the door crack, snickering. He let himself drop heavily against the bed frame. Parco, who had just been laughing, also quieted down, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. In the silence that followed, Gunther muttered:
— ...This is a gloomy room.
— Yeah...?
Gunther had always believed that a room reflected its owner’s personality in full. So he had expected Parco’s room to be something like the lair of a maximalist. If he was obsessed with relics like cars, there should have been parts and magazines scattered everywhere.
But reality was completely different. It was more like a monk’s cell. Only the bare minimum of furniture stood here, and the rest were items whose purpose was hard to guess (and not something he particularly wanted to find out). Incidentally, the “Crown of Thorns” Gunther had once given him was carefully stored in a corner of his collection...
— Your deity has completely ruined you...
— Hey, not at all. You’ve got cause and effect mixed up.
— What?
— ...I wanted pain. That’s why a deity like that attached itself to me.
Gunther thought it was a joke, but Parco’s expression was serious. Meeting his gaze, Gunther felt something strange for a moment.
— Why did you... want pain?
Parco seemed like he was about to say something. But, unusually for him, he immediately changed the subject.
— This pain, though. It’s actually useful.
He gave an awkward smile and pulled a necklace from under his shirt. A large gemstone hung from it, pulsing with red energy inside. Gunther sensed divinity.
— ...A sacred item?
— Yeah. It can store pain and everything I feel. And when needed, I can release it as a debuff on an enemy.
He went on to explain.
— Albino got a taste of it too. The guys are always nagging me not to use it, so I sealed it, but this time I didn’t have a choice, right? When you and everyone else are fighting yourselves to exhaustion, I can’t just stand there doing nothing.
Gunther recalled the moment in the decisive battle with Albino when his face had twisted for an instant. So for that victory, Parco had deliberately inflicted unbearable pain on himself, layering it over and over? Gunther was momentarily speechless at the thought. Meanwhile, Parco slowly reached for the whip on the shelf.
— But honestly, I don’t mind even if I’m the one causing the pain.
...Parco was always like this. Whenever the atmosphere grew heavy, he was the first to gently ease the tension or awkwardness. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous. That was why everyone couldn’t help but like him. Gunther included.
But today, Gunther felt like he had glimpsed a shadow hidden inside him. A quiet sigh escaped his lips.
— ...Fine. I’ll hit you myself. Just don’t start crying.
Parco chuckled, then suddenly turned serious:
— Parco never cries.
.
.
.
In truth, despite all the loud declarations, they didn’t do anything special afterward. After some back-and-forth bickering, the topic naturally shifted to what Parco loved most.
One of those topics was a heated discussion about cars. Gunther had countless stories that left him fascinated. For example, absurd tuning cases seen on public roads in South Korea... Parco’s eyes shone like a child’s.
— That’s actually possible? Seriously? No, how do you even know all this? Is that your idea?
For a while, the two of them forgot about battles, Luthien, Act 2—everything else—laughing and chatting like ordinary twenty-year-old friends. ...And without realizing it himself, this was a rare moment for Gunther as well.
[Parco Draven’s affinity has slightly increased]
***
Gunther headed to the next room. After a light knock, there was a commotion inside.
— W-who is it?
— It’s me. Can I come in?
There were sounds of things clattering, along with scattered voices asking him to wait a moment. Then the door cracked open, and through the gap appeared messy white hair and wide golden eyes.
— W-why so sudden?
— I just wanted to talk a bit.
Blanc cautiously asked:
— Is this... a commander’s conversation?
— ...Not necessarily.
— I-is that so? That’s strange...
She slowly stepped back and opened the door. Gunther was momentarily speechless at what he saw.
— Hehe...
The room was filled with cute things and warm colors. On one wall, ribbons and small dolls were neatly arranged, and magical lamps cast a soft orange glow. A hand-sewn rabbit sat on the table, with a mug beside it, faint steam rising from it. Remembering how she used to secretly place dolls in Gunther’s room, it wasn’t hard to guess how much she loved small, cute things like these.
— C-come in for now. Just know I haven’t finished decorating yet.
However, despite the warmth of the atmosphere, Gunther’s shoulders tensed as he stepped inside.
“...I knew it.”
If Levain had the highest affinity among the platoon members, Blanc was the opposite. While the others had surpassed 60, Blanc’s affinity remained stuck at 50.
Honestly, it was strange. Gunther believed he had done everything he could for her, just like with the others. Hadn’t he arranged her contract with the “Hunter at the Waning Moon”?
But at that moment, Gunther finally became certain of something he had only suspected before. His gaze fixed on “something” that didn’t belong in this cute interior at all. ...He had a feeling that opening Blanc’s heart would require time and effort.
— S-should I get you something? Ah... I don’t really have anything...
Meanwhile, Blanc muttered, fidgeting with her fingers. When they were all together, she didn’t notice it, but being alone made things awkward. It would have been nice if Tarsha were here—she would have teased her as usual.
— I’m not really used to this...
Her voice grew quieter. But unlike the nervous owner of the room, Gunther remained calm. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
— You feel uncomfortable around me, Blanc.
At those blunt words, Blanc froze completely. The tips of her ears turned red. As if trying to deny it, she quickly sat down and looked straight at him. But Gunther didn’t meet her gaze. His eyes had been fixed the entire time on that out-of-place object in the corner.
— It seems like you were more at ease with the previous commander.
Among the dolls, ribbons, and cute decorations lay a neatly preserved old military cloak. A faded emblem. A cracked mask. All of it carefully maintained, without a speck of dust.
Gunther silently looked at those items for a moment, then quietly shifted his gaze to Blanc. She bit her lip until it nearly bled.
— Will you tell me about that person? I’m curious.
