Chapter 320: New Gear

Portsinota Town

Unaware that the three women who loved him had formed a temporary alliance in Novis Town and were about to flip through his personal Quest System journal, Will stood in front of the bathroom mirror early in the morning.

“…Let’s check the results.”

This was one of the rare moments when he didn’t need to wear a face-concealing hood.

After brushing his teeth, he carefully pulled his lip to the side, examining his gums.

Eir had done a good job pulling that tooth.

It hadn’t been an easy extraction—his upper left molar, deep-set, might have been tricky even for a professional dentist.

Adjusting the angle in the mirror, he stared at the spot where the tooth had been.

In the dim light, he could already see the faint outline of a new tooth growing in.

His expression turned serious as he wiped his hand on a damp piece of paper and scribbled:

“10,000 Hs, 3 hours. Tooth regrowth—normally takes 2-6 months… Too painful to test again.”

The paper wasn’t just about teeth.

From fingernails to hair, even patches of skin—anything he could remove and regrow had been tested.

The ink-stained page was filled with notes.

“Seems like the theory works… If it comes down to it, this should be usable… Ugh.”

A sudden wave of dizziness hit him.

He steadied himself against the sink.

He’d been in Portsinota for two days now, and severe sleep deprivation was taking its toll.

“Guess I didn’t sleep well last night…?”

The reason was simple.

“No time left.”

His fingers curled against the cool porcelain as he watched the swirling water—a mix of toothpaste and grime—drain sluggishly.

There was no definitive proof, but on his first night in this fated city, he’d felt it—

The looming specter of death.

The pyramid-like dungeon entrance loomed over him like a curse—simultaneously a temptation and a warning.

Go inside, it beckoned.

You’ll die here, it whispered.

The same scene that had played out in his nightmares countless times was about to become real.

He splashed cold water on his face, forcing his heavy eyelids open.

Strangely, the closer he got to his supposed death, the less afraid he felt.

“Shouldn’t be long now. Shuna’s checking the dungeon today. Once she confirms the first floor, I’ll know what’s waiting for me.”

He rubbed his stinging eyes and reached for where he’d left his monocle—

Only to touch someone else’s fingers.

Cool, smooth skin. Calloused at the knuckles from years of wielding weapons.

“Shuna…?”

“Me. Mmm… Someone promised to rest and wait for my report. But here you are, exhausted and awake early?”

Blinking away the water, he squinted at her—his blurred vision making it hard to gauge distance.

“Well, I’m back. And I brought you something.”

“Something…?”

Before he could react, she pressed something round and cool against his right eye.

The familiar weight of a lens settled on the bridge of his nose.

A new monocle.

“Hm. Looks good.”

She adjusted the thin metal chain behind his ear, securing it.

“A new one…? The last pair I had was also with you—”

He lowered his head slightly, testing the fit.

The prescription matched perfectly.

“Yep. I’ll forgive you for losing the old one.”

“It’s still in my bag. Just… hard to find when I can’t see it.”

“Oh? So you do treasure it.”

A faint smile flickered across her face.

“Well? I picked it special.”

He turned to the mirror.

The new monocle was far sleeker than his old one—gold-rimmed, catching the light with a refined gleam.

“Turn here!”

Shuna grabbed his face, tilting it to inspect the full effect.

Her fingertips were cold, carrying the faint grit of desert sand from Dustbone Corridor.

“Perfect. Knew it’d suit you. That deep blue in gold… like starlight through a telescope.”

“…Huh?”

She smirked.

“The bookmark you gave me—remember? The one like a galaxy.”

“……”

“You’re blushing. Mm… ears too? Warm.”

“S-Sorry, just—never had someone compliment my glasses before. In this world, they’re usually just inconvenient.”

She tilted her head.

“You said you were the ‘villain’ in the story, right? So now you look like… a cultured scoundrel?”

“You couldn’t pick a better phrase?”

“Mmm… the guy who turned four girls into lovestruck berserkers isn’t a scoundrel?”

“…Hard to argue.”

He sighed.

He’d long since given up on defending himself—fine, let the world think I’m a villain.

Back in his past life, his glasses had been a genetic necessity, but he’d never felt like the scheming, intellectual antagonist archetype.

But now?

The mirror reflected a different aura.

“Thanks. It’s great. Wait—four girls? You’re counting yourself—?”

“Ah—can’t hear you! Did I say that?”

Shuna abruptly cut him off, then perked up.

“Oh right. Forgot. This monocle has a special feature too. Let’s test it outside while we talk.”

—