I'd be curious too

Room No. 12 of Lily Rest Inn was quiet, the walls still vibrating faintly from the chaos earlier downstairs. Liam shut the wooden door behind him with a soft thunk, his steps heavy with adrenaline that hadn't quite burned out yet.

He walked to the simple bed in the corner, linen pale, mattress thin but clean, and sat down slowly.

Then his hands began to shake.

A grin crept across his face, small at first, then wide. Then wild.

He buried his face in his palms, his shoulders trembling.

"Heheheh…" A giggle slipped from between his fingers.

"Hahahah... HAH! Super exhilarating! That was too exhilarating!"

His voice cracked with laughter, sharp and almost unhinged, echoing off the wooden walls. It rang out for nearly a full minute, raw and infectious, until it began to taper off. The trembling slowed. He pulled his hands down, dragging them down his flushed face as if trying to wipe away the madness.

"Huuuuh…" A deep sigh slipped past his lips. Exhausted. Relieved. Still vibrating with aftershocks of tension.

He stood up, pacing once before spinning dramatically like an actor in rehearsal.

"That was exciting," he declared to no one. "No one doubted it. Not a single one. My acting skills, flawless. The guy fainted. Just, out. Instant!"

He grinned and spun again, arms spread. Then, like all the energy had drained from him in one breath, he collapsed back onto the bed.

Thump.

He lay flat, staring at the ceiling beams above. His stomach growled loudly.

"…Right. No lunch," he muttered.

Who could have eaten in a place like that, anyway? With that scent, those mercenaries, and the tension thick enough to carve with a knife.

Grumbling, Liam sat up and rummaged through his inventory. With a flash of light, a plain wooden plate appeared in his hand.

He set it on the bedside table, pulled out a loaf of whitebread, and slapped down six thick strips of bacon between two slices.

He bit into it greedily.

Crunch. Savor. Swallow.

His eyes were sharp even as he ate, mind whirling behind a tired face.

"…From what I did, he might come after me," he muttered to himself between chews. "To play with."

That's how it worked here. Not just in Thornmere, but in Elyndra.

Everyone said the richest ruled in thornmere hamlet town but Liam knew better.

Sure, money meant power, but only when you had the strength to protect it. In Thornmere, one person had both but Luce.

An elven noble who had ruled this region with a velvet smile and bloodied gloves for more than 120 years. A name known even among the higher-tier guilds.

He didn't rule by coin.

He ruled because his coin was forged in blood, sharpened by schemes, and protected by overwhelming power.

Liam: Strength first. Always strength first.

Liam paused mid-bite, staring into space.

In Elyndra, Luce made his first appearance after the first summer vacation event. It was just before the second-year arc started.

Jasper Altheira, the main character of the game, came here to chill, do live some light normal life, gather info, and run a few minor quests.

But as always, peace didn't last long.

Jasper accidentally provoked some second-rate mercenary thug at a tavern and beat him within an inch of his life. It was supposed to be just another background event. But Luce saw it.

And Luce… got interested.

The next morning, he targeted Jasper.Not directly, Not with sword or spell but With games.

Surveillance. Harassment. Psychological torture in the form of traps, humiliations, and endless petty interference.

Level B elites were sent to "observe" him. When convenient, they'd spike his food with laxatives or enchant his shoes to slip every ten steps. Invisible needles placed on chairs. Lock runes on toilet doors. Even the classic: a tiny dagger triggered to stab him in the butt when he closed his bedroom door.

And every time Jasper fell for one of those, it triggered a scene that is cutscene.

Unskippable. Humiliating.

A comedy to everyone but the player who was playing.

Liam scoffed, chewing louder.

"Don't even get me started on the Treasure Map Incident," he grumbled. "The bait was so obvious it was laughable. And still, jasper fell for it."

One week before leaving Thornmere, Jasper was lured by a high-rank treasure quest tied to a mysterious artifact. All clues pointed toward an abandoned temple deep in the swamp.

Players were ecstatic. Lore? Hidden loot? Secret dungeon?

Instead?

It was Luce's personal torture playground.

Jasper was ambushed. Publicly. Beaten. Mocked.

The "artifact" was a tracking beacon disguised as a quest item. Luce's people broadcast the whole thing in the Mercenary Guild's crystal mirror network for entertainment.

Liam stopped chewing. His face darkened.

"…It was the most hated arc in the entire game," he said.

Even now, he could remember the outrage. Forums exploded. The devs were harassed. Memes flooded every server. "Butt-Stab Arc," they called it. And Jasper couldn't even forgot his dark history which gave him nightmare, it was all part of the "character growth path."

Liam took another bite of the sandwich, slower this time.

"God, the rage I felt," he muttered.

He took a sip from his waterskin. "Still... it taught me something."

He stood up, brushing crumbs from his clothes, and walked to the window. He looked out over Thornmere. The quiet alleys. The creeping mist in the distance. Hidden faces behind glass.

"Luce doesn't care about status or plot armor. He only plays with people who look... interesting to him." And what had Liam just done?

He'd assaulted a D-rank mercenary, humiliated him in front of half the inn, and walked out with a revolver in hand like a ghost from another world.

"…Damn it."

Liam rubbed his eyes.

"If I were Luce... I'd be curious too."