"Achoo!"
An uncontrollable, sharp itch welled up without warning from deep inside his nose, and Greg let out a loud sneeze, violently pulled out of his deep sleep.
He blearily opened his eyes, his vision blurry at first before focusing.
A pitch-black cat was sitting squarely on his chest, its plump rear resting precisely right over his heart, while its big bushy tail lazily swept across his cheek and the tip of his nose.
"...I knew it."
Greg's voice carried the raspy helplessness of someone who had just woken up. He raised a hand, gently pinching the tip of the troublesome tail, and moved it away from his face:
"I told you not to put your paws on my face, so you switched to your tail instead?"
In her black cat form, Nightmare lazily turned her head, glancing at him with slit pupils. She then lowered her head and unhurriedly began licking the pads of her front paw, a faint purr rattling in her throat—looking every bit like a creature exuding an attitude of I do as I please, what can you do about it?
Greg shook his head and checked the time.
Eight in the morning.
There was still an hour left before the academy's earliest class today.
In the past, he would have already finished washing up by this time and would be preparing to head out for his Student Council work.
But right now, a heavy sense of fatigue pervaded his entire body from muscles to bones. The mental exhaustion in particular made even moving a finger feel like an effort.
Yesterday, thanks to the divine assist of Chief Steward Wendy's glib tongue, he had finally managed to pacify Allie, who had been on the verge of going berserk.
What came after was much simpler.
After getting their stories straight, Greg led Allie—who had suddenly become unusually quiet and even somewhat well-behaved—back to the restaurant.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he braced himself against Victoria's suspicious, Silvia's uneasy, and Catherine's amused gazes, adding a chair for Allie right beside him.
During the meal, he explained Allie's identity to the three ladies in a way that was as vague as possible while still sounding reasonable.
"She's my exclusive maid who grew up with me, though she's also like a childhood friend."
"The reason her reaction was a bit extreme is that some unpleasant childhood experiences caused her to be somewhat... vigilant and concerned toward people approaching me, especially women. But she definitely means no harm."
This time, Allie surprisingly didn't sabotage him or exaggerate, merely sitting quietly by his side and taking small bites of the expensive dessert Greg had specifically ordered for her.
It was just that her light blue eyes constantly swept over Victoria, Silvia, and Catherine with an almost disdainful gaze, as if silently asserting dominance or making comparisons.
That look gave Greg the creeps, forcing him to add an explanation with a dry chuckle: "It's an aftereffect of childhood trauma. She doesn't mean it, she's just not very good at expressing herself."
After much coaxing and explaining, Victoria and the others finally accepted the explanation reluctantly, without pressing further.
This allowed the heart hanging in Greg's chest to finally settle completely back into place.
At least, for a short while, he didn't have to worry about the women around him suddenly drawing blades against each other and engaging in full-on violence.
He was safe... for now.
The only thing that still made Greg feel curious and concerned upon reflection was Wendy, who had suddenly appeared and perfectly defused the situation for him.
He was genuinely curious as to which remote corner Allie had managed to pick up such an incredible subordinate—easy on the eyes, highly capable, boasting both high EQ and IQ, and capable of acting as a top-tier spokesperson in critical moments.
A Chief Steward of this caliber was simply something one could dream of but rarely find!
If he could also pick up a clone of her to keep by his side, handling all those messy interpersonal relationships and trivial chores... how easy life would be!
He thought to himself with no small amount of envy.
"Haaa~~~"
Greg then let out another heavily drowsy yawn, his eyelids beginning to droop again.
Even though his body was exhausted, his thoughts refused to stop.
Just thinking about the situations he might face after going to the academy today gave him a wave of mental weariness, making him want to leave this warm tent even less.
"Heh heh, my other half..."
Nightmare stopped grooming her fur, turning around elegantly to face Greg once more. Her dark gold cat eyes glowed softly in the dim light inside the tent:
"With that look on your face, have you already begun to tire of the dull daily life of the surface world? If so, why not come with me to do something far more delightful for both body and mind?"
She tilted her head, the tip of her tail swaying gently with pleasure.
"Heh."
Greg twitched the corner of his lips weakly:
"Don't think I don't know that the 'delightful things' you mean are clearing the dungeon. I won't fall for your tricks so easily like a gullible fool."
Nightmare flicked her tail, her tone filled with innocent confusion:
"Yet last time, didn't you head there with me of your own accord, brimming with enthusiasm? As I recall, you were very 'delighted' back then."
The expression on Greg's face instantly collapsed into a deadpan look:
"...Which is why a Saint never falls for the same trick twice! This time, I will absolutely not be fooled again!"
Even so, Greg knew very well in his heart that he really needed to hurry up and completely clear the second layer of the dungeon.
The academy storyline of Act Two had already entered its tail end. Before long, the broader narrative of Act Three and the subsequent storms that followed would arrive one after another.
If he couldn't completely conquer the second layer before then, he wouldn't even be qualified to think about how to deal with the series of problems that lay ahead.
Because before those future problems even arrived, he would have already unlocked a new death CG.
However, if he wanted to attempt clearing it a second time now, there was a problem: he lacked enough helpers.
Victoria and Silvia, as first-year freshmen, would have to devote all their energy to the final event of Act Two—the upcoming Mentor Selection Qualification Exam.
So before the plot of Act Two completely came to a close, they wouldn't have any free time to accompany him down into the dungeon.
This meant Greg would have to face the second layer alone, or... find new teammates.
Although he had a specialized weapon targeted at the second-layer Floor Boss on hand, this wasn't a game where he could reload a save.
Life was a one-time deal, and adventure required caution.
Greg still hoped to have a reliable helper to increase his margin for error, making the clearing process more secure.
Regarding candidates for this role, he actually had someone in mind already: Vivian.
His reasons were solid: first of all, Vivian's current level was higher than his, guaranteeing her strength.
Secondly, and most importantly, the ice-attribute magic Vivian specialized in happened to counter the second-layer Floor Boss extremely well, which would drastically reduce the difficulty of the raid.
Finally, due to his intervention, the fated conflict between Vivian and Lilith had not been intensified, nor had Vivian's mindset gradually drifted toward paranoia like in the original story. The current Vivian was, relatively speaking, normal and open to communication.
However, the main problem was—how was he supposed to convince Vivian, this ice princess, Student Council President, and strong future contender for the throne, to set aside her busy official duties and personal training to accompany a former noble with a bad reputation like him to explore a dangerous dungeon?
Ask her directly? Would she agree? Under what pretext?
Greg felt genuine distress, his brow furrowing unconsciously.
Rate on N.U.
