Greg kept his eyes closed, leaning back on the soft leather seats of the carriage as it moved through the noble district toward the Mayor's home. It was finally happening. After months of failure, he was finally going to attend the Mayor's dinner party and beat the dungeon. And yet, rather than excited, Greg just felt drained. It now occurred to him just how unprepared to beat this mission he had been on his previous attempts. Had he somehow made it into the party on one of his previous runs, he would have likely stood out like a sore thumb. The best he could have hoped for was to be kicked out. But given the way the nobility seemed to look down on the commoners, Greg doubted that the Mayor would have taken very kindly to one trying to sneak into his party. Chances are that he would have met a rather unpleasant end in the city's dungeons, or whatever passed for prisons in Torrin. Already knowing that the day would be a busy one. Greg had pinned Zarra against the wall of the bathhouse

While Greg found most of the social norms of the nobility to be a mix of pretentious and arduous, he actually liked this one. While his backstory was a pure fabrication, Greg hadn't been lying when he said he was here to observe. First, the faces, then the information of as many people in attendance as possible. It wasn't for any nefarious reasons but simply because Greg was already preparing for future runs. The people in attendance were all possible avenues to gain access to the party in future dungeon runs. Before the end of the party, Greg planned to have at least five more options for how he would beat the dungeon."Likewise Allen," Zarra answered with a smile. Technically, the nobility didn't need to know the names of the servants let alone return any compliments given. Zarra, however, had said that she found it made the servants more positively predisposed towards you when you made the effort. To Greg, this was as obvious as saying twice two made four. Given what he had seen of

Out of everyone present, three in particular held Greg's interest. More than likely, his next attempt at this dungeon would involve one of them. At the top of his list was a potioneer. Lady Andreya was the only other individual in this dungeon that was even tangentially involved in magic, that Greg had encountered. From what Greg had gathered of her backstory, she wasn't an actual mage herself, but she had learned the art of potion-making from one. She could only make the weakest of potions seeing as the more advanced ones required precise mana control, of which she didn't have any. Given the fact that this was a city full of mundane humans, however, what potions she did make were enough to make her one of the most sought-after potioneers in the city. This was especially true because, like his teacher, Lady Andreya was very exacting in the standards of her work. She would sooner die than allow subpar work to be associated with her name. Part of the reason Greg was so drawn to the po

As for his trepidation, it stemmed from the hidden quest. Greg had been so focused on passing his main mission within the dungeon, that he hadn't even considered the possibility of there being hidden missions. Looking at it, however, Greg couldn't help but break out into a small cold sweat as he realized just how close he'd come to failing it. With a sigh of pure relief, Greg found himself thanking all his lucky stars that he'd somehow managed to achieve it despite his recklessness. Simple as the task may have seemed, Greg was keenly aware of just how easy it would have been to fail this objective. Even outside of his encounter with the spider queen and the blonde thief, Greg was certain that the only reason he'd managed to make it through this dungeon unharmed was because he'd had Zarra at his side to guide him through the intricacies of interaction with the nobility. If Greg had somehow made it to the party through some other means and didn't know everything that the woman had taugh

Greg's eyes fluttered open to find his teacher seated across from him. Her eyes were closed and a small milky white pearl was pressed up against her temple. One who didn't know his teacher well would be tempted to think that she was sleeping. Greg, however, could see the look of deep concentration on her face. Given his past life as an earthling, when Greg came across the word manual, he'd expected a book of some kind. Perhaps a thick, ancient-looking tome, perhaps a sheaf of parchments loosely bound together, maybe even a scroll of some kind. What he had gotten instead, was the small white pearl currently in his teacher's hands. An attuned memory pearl. That's what Olivia had called the thing. She'd instructed him to run his mana through it. Once Greg had done so, she'd informed him that the pearl was now attuned to his mana signature. That, without him using his mana as a key, it would be impossible for someone else to access what was inside the pearl. With that out of the way, Gre