In the dead of night on the vast expanse of Floor 18, Charlie stumbled upon a secluded spot.
The area was a lush green clearing surrounded by dense trees, illuminated by the faint glow of crystals embedded in the ceiling.
At the center of the clearing stood a small earthen mound. Various types of weapons—bent and rusted swords, broken axe heads, cracked staffs, and shattered spears—were embedded around it, like final offerings to the fallen. They weren't just old tal; each carried the lingering echoes of the souls that once wielded them.
Atop the mound, fluttering weakly in the night breeze, was a tattered flag. Its colors had faded, its patterns no longer legible, a re scrap of cloth enduring against ti, serving as a gravestone for sothing grand.
In front of the mound, a figure in a green cloak crouched, as if in prayer. Their posture was tense, filled with concentration, as though communing with the spirits resting beneath the mound. The atmosphere was so solemn, so silent, that Charlie almost felt guilty for intruding.
*WHOOSH!*
Hearing footsteps approaching from behind, the figure transford from a silent statue into a living storm. Their cloak billowed, leaving a fading green shadow.
The ten-ter distance between them vanished in an instant, swept away by brutal yet elegant montum. A wooden sword was drawn and swung straight at Charlie.
*SWOOSH!*
The air split, whistling in pain. The attack was simple, pure, and deadly, aid precisely between Charlie's eyes.
Facing this sudden assault, Charlie didn't move. His body stood firm like a rock in a raging river. His sharp eyes didn't blink. He rely stared straight ahead, watching the wooden sword approach at a speed that would spell the end for most.
*SHUA!*
The wooden sword stopped just three inches from the bridge of Charlie's nose. The gust of wind from the sword's motion pushed his short white hair back, revealing a smooth forehead and an unshaken gaze.
"You don't look startled. Why didn't you dodge?" the cloaked figure asked coldly.
"Because it wasn't necessary. From the start, you had no intention of actually attacking . It was just your reflex to my arrival, wasn't it?"
Charlie didn't deny the other party's assumption. With Mind's Eye and Six Eyes, unless an attack moved at the speed of light, it was impossible for him to be truly caught off guard.
"An elf?"
After the figure withdrew the wooden sword, Charlie observed them closely.
It was a woman. Her short moss-green hair was neatly trimd, framing her delicate face. Her sky-blue eyes, almost identical to Charlie's, radiated tension and deep sorrow. Her pointed, elongated ears, peeking through her short hair, were unmistakable confirmation.
Her clothing was practical yet bore a touch of nature: a small petal-shaped green hood, a tight sleeveless white top, short green shorts, brown leather boots, gloves, and a white sash wrapped around her waist.
A green mask covered her nose and mouth, but from her high cheekbones and sharp gaze, there was no doubt she was strikingly beautiful.
Whether male or female, elf were renowned for their beautiful and handso faces—a fact often at the root of their arrogance.
(Could it be… Ryuu Lion?)
Instantly, Charlie guessed the true identity of the elf woman before him.
"Who are you? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"
Ryuu asked, unaware that Charlie had already deduced her identity. Her deanor was wary, her wooden sword still at the ready.
"Floor 18 is part of the Dungeon. Any adventurer is free to explore it."
"…"
Charlie's reasonable response left Ryuu unable to argue.
After a mont, Ryuu pointed to the small mound filled with worn weapons, her voice softening slightly.
"Do you see that mound? It's a grave I made for my fallen comrades. This is their final resting place. So, don't cause trouble here. If you do, I'll fight you seriously."
After issuing her serious warning, she turned, intending to return to her ditation, trying to reclaim the peace disrupted by Charlie's arrival.
"Wait!"
"What?" Ryuu replied without turning, her voice flat and apathetic.
"You're an elf, right?"
"Isn't that obvious? What's it to you if I'm an elf?"
Her brows furrowed, not understanding the point of the foolish question. Hadn't he seen her ears?
But Charlie's next words made her blood rush to her head, heating her cheeks behind her mask and igniting a boiling rage.
"Well, precisely because you're an elf, it bothers
a bit. As far as I know, except for a few elf won who—whether forced or willingly—work in the Entertainnt District, female elf are quite conservative and uphold propriety. Could it be… you're a perverted elf?"
"P-PERVERTED ELF?!"
The words exploded like thunder in her ears. Ryuu spun around instantly, her blue eyes wide, almost bulging at Charlie. Her apathetic deanor vanished, replaced by humiliated fury.
"On what basis do you make such a vile assumption?!" Her voice rose, filled with confusion and overflowing anger.
Ryuu's furious glare had no effect on Charlie. Instead of backing down, his eyes lowered, ticulously scanning the elf's outfit, as if truly noticing it for the first ti.
"Don't you realize how you're dressed? Your top is just one thin, tight white layer. It clearly highlights… your figure's silhouette. And your shorts are so short they expose nearly your entire thighs. With an outfit like this, you still dare deny you're not a perverted elf?"
Charlie then raised an example, his tone flat but laced with judgnt.
"Take the elf in Loki Familia, for instance—Riveria Ljos Alf and Lefiya Viridis. Their robes and skirts are long, covering their skin modestly. Compare that to you? You look like you're… showing off."
"…"
The longer Ryuu listened to him, the angrier she beca. Her once-steady breathing turned short and ragged behind her mask. She could feel her ears burning. She imdiately refuted his accusations.
"It's not what you think! This outfit is designed specifically for maximum mobility and agility! Every stitch and cut serves a functional purpose!"
Hearing this, Charlie rely raised one eyebrow, his expression still skeptical.
"Really? That's a cliché excuse. To anyone looking, functional or not, you still look like a perverted elf seeking attention."
"ENOUGH!"
Ryuu nearly scread, her hand gripping the handle of her wooden sword so tightly it creaked.
"Get out of here! Now! If you don't disappear from my sight by the count of three, I'll turn that handso face of yours into unrecognizable mush!"
This was the first ti an outsider dared call her a perverted elf! Before, only her Familia mbers used the term to tease her, and that was a painful yet cherished mory. Hearing it from a stranger's mouth felt like a brutal insult and judgnt.
"Alright, alright, I'm going." Charlie said with a conceding tone, raising both hands slightly as he turned.
As he walked away, his muttering was still audible in the quiet night, whether intentionally or not, aid at the elf's sharp ears.
"Haaah… These days, honest people aren't appreciated. People prefer sweet lies over bitter truths."
"…"
Ryuu stood rigid, watching Charlie's retreating figure. Her pointed ears twitched faintly, catching every syllable. Her wooden sword remained tightly gripped, but her anger began to subside, replaced by a sudden, unsettling seed of doubt.
After his figure completely vanished, leaving her alone again with her comrades' grave, Ryuu finally lowered her sword. Her clenched hand slowly relaxed.
"Perverted elf…"
Charlie's muttering echoed in her mind.
"Does… my outfit really look perverted to others?"
A thought she'd never considered before now surfaced. Her blue eyes lowered, examining herself. She saw her tight white top, clinging to her torso, leaving little to the imagination.
Her gloved fingers touched the edge of her short shorts, cool against her exposed thighs.
Ryuu had always chosen this outfit for practical reasons: lightweight, unrestrictive, and well-ventilated for the Dungeon's fluctuating temperatures. To her, it was battle attire. But now, through the lens of that strange man, it suddenly felt… different.
A hot wave of embarrassnt spread from her neck to her cheeks, hidden behind her mask but painfully real.
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