In the autumn’s dim light, the shadows of eleven people stretched along the cliff’s edge, like eleven ancient statues—silent, unmoving.
On the rubble-strewn mountain path, the challengers gathered in twos and threes.
Ever since the detective had vanished so suddenly from the map, no one had stepped up to lead the next move.
At present, the only two considered remotely trustworthy beyond the detective were the Geographer—the young merchant heir who had openly provided intel—and the Lawyer, Lan Qi.
But even then, the information they shared wasn’t impossible to deduce with specialized magic or keen guesswork. Unlike the Detective, neither of them could win unquestioned trust.
The showy merchant heir from the Canberra Kingdom had briefly tried to seize Frey’s role. But under the deathly glare of the sibling bodyguards behind him, his courage shriveled. His words stuck in his throat, and he dared not speak again.
It was clear to everyone: this idiot young master leading the team would only stir chaos and attract hatred.
Meanwhile, Lan Qi simply smiled quietly, as warm and genteel as ever, with that elegant air of composure.
No one could tell what he was thinking.
Nor did he show the slightest intention of filling in as the “temporary detective.” From his look, he never wanted to play detective at all.Wind swept up from the depths of the valley, carrying with it a subtle chill. The clouds and fog swirled, torn apart, then gathered once more.
In the hush that followed, the challengers calmed their nerves. They began analyzing the situation again.
The Shadow World’s very mechanics had been shifted by the Detective’s outrageous maneuver.
Still, they had no choice but to wait two full days—until he returned with answers.
And within those two nights, sacrifices would almost certainly occur.
No one knew if the victim would be themselves.
Unless… someone else stepped forward, a real expert, who could keep pressing the traitors.
At that moment—
“I’d wager two people here are working very hard to act casual. Must be exhausting.”
Lan Qi’s calm smile broke the silence, his tone laced with amusement.
“……”
His words left the others blinking in confusion.
What did he mean by that?
Huperion was the quickest to understand, her lips curving into a mocking smirk. Covering her mouth daintily, she said with faux sweetness:
“Yes, how frustrating. Shouldn’t you jump off now and chase after the detective? Still time, you know?”
After spending so much time near Lan Qi, she felt she had practically mastered his brand of top-shelf passive-aggressive banter.
Though, coming from her, it carried more of a “villainess duke’s daughter” flavor.
“…Someone out there must already be dying inside.”
With Huperion pushing the rhythm forward, the others caught on.
“Yes—why isn’t anyone blushing yet?”
And so—
One by one, they joined in, ruthlessly taunting the hidden traitors.
It was like finally releasing the suffocating pressure in their hearts.
“Stupid traitors, kneel down and kowtow now. Maybe we’ll even spare you.”
“Two days left, and you’re still clinging to your act.”
“Keep it up, or someone’s about to start crying pearls~.”
Perhaps their words carried little concrete effect.
But at this point, anyone unwilling to join the chorus—or worse, snapping back—would stick out like a sore thumb.
For more than three hours, the challengers had been suffocating under the traitors’ hidden pressure.
No normal person among them didn’t secretly loathe those two.
If given the chance, they’d happily drag them out and beat them to death on the spot!
Before, mocking traitors while things looked grim would only have revealed weakness and bolstered enemy arrogance.
But after Frey’s god-tier move flipped the situation, striking while the iron was hot—taunting mercilessly—was the best way to pile on psychological pressure.
And crucially—
The traitors, already shaken by Frey’s stunt, now had to pretend to blend in, laughing along with everyone else at their own misery.
A pure test of nerves.
On the cliffside, laughter and mockery spilled into the wind. For the first time, the challengers looked visibly more relaxed, as though finally exhaling pent-up rage, watching closely for cracks in expression.
The traitors’ mental fortitude was indeed strong.
Even under such humiliation and torment, they held their act without slip.
But perversely, that only made the others feel more satisfied.
The merchant heir led the jeering with relish. His twin bodyguards looked helpless but still backed him up.
The battle-cleric trio from the Krayte Empire stayed polite—ladylike in manner, more genteel with their barbs.
As for the three North Continent clergy: the Executioner cursed openly, while the Paladin and Priest were more restrained—but started praying for the traitors’ souls, which arguably felt like the harshest torment of all.
Lan Qi, arms folded, let out a soft sigh as he watched the group’s nerves finally unwind.
He looked for all the world like a kindhearted therapist, caring about everyone’s emotional well-being.
Frey’s approach had been to rush around efficiently, dragging everyone from place to place.
But Lan Qi… Lan Qi’s philosophy was harmony. A healthy, friendly atmosphere.
“……”
Huperion glanced sideways at him, easily reading his mind.
Yes, this man was positively glowing with satisfaction, convinced he’d just helped everyone relieve their stress—another good deed for his mental ledger.
Hopeless.
If only, she thought, if only there could be another teammate someday—someone who could join her in roasting Lan Qi.
Having to keep her snark bottled up like this was suffocating.
Still, she kept a wary eye on him.
Because she knew Lan Qi wasn’t simply playing therapist.
By fanning this fire, he’d pushed the traitors’ mental state even closer to breaking point.
If he dared gamble, he could even summon the Great Poet of Love and force the showdown now.
But the Poet was chaotic—enemy or ally, no one could control him.
And in this tense Shadow World, summoning him was like tossing a match into a powder keg.
The fallout could shatter the sanity of allies, maybe even wipe them all out.
Back in the cathedral hall, when the traitors held the upper hand, summoning the Poet would have painted Lan Qi as the traitor striking first.
Even now, with the scales reversed, unleashing him might cost them innocent lives.
Or worse—an accidental traitor kill might summon two vampire counts in retaliation.
No—the best endgame was to capture the traitors alive.
After all, the very existence of these “traitors with hostile intent toward the real world,” combined with Huperion’s role as Actress—“more likely to be targeted”—was proof enough: resurrection cultists had infiltrated this Shadow World.
And Lan Qi… Lan Qi would never waste such a chance.
For the sake of his graduation project, “Quest for the Primordial Tablet – Sealing,” he would absolutely try to capture one of those cultists and squeeze them for intel.
Which meant he wouldn’t summon the Poet just yet.
“Huperion, why are you staring at me?”
Sensing her gaze, Lan Qi tilted his head, his eyes filled with mild puzzlement.
“…Nothing.”
She shook her head. She’d given up trying to psychoanalyze his do-gooder smugness.
But his calm, almost naïve demeanor told her one thing.
From here on—Lan Qi clearly still had more tricks up his sleeve to shatter the traitors’ composure.