The festival grounds were packed. And by "packed," I mean overflowing with couples.

Everywhere I looked—handholding, giggling, leaning on each other's shoulders like the world itself depended on their fragile little romances.

It was romance ground for couples.

It was my archenemy.

Ugh.

Anyway, back to the main point.

What none of these lovebirds knew was that this very festival—the Bloomlight Festival they thought was all lanterns and flowers—would soon be remembered for something else entirely. It was about to be connected to another world's legacy and turn into a dungeon.

If I had my way, I'd tell them to pack up their candied fruit and get the hell out. But even if I shouted it from the rooftops, who would actually believe me? Other than Ryen, no one. And he barely counted.

I could stop it, sure. I knew the script, after all. But that wasn't the plan. Not when there was a reward room waiting inside the dungeon.

And there was no way I was walking away from that.

"Alright, we seniors will handle the complicated stuff," Aric announced with his usual smooth grin. "You new members just take your time and enjoy the festival."

"Oh, no. We'll help," Ryen said quickly, ever the model cadet.

But Aric just waved him off with a chuckle. "Hey, hey—it's our club tradition not to haze new members. We'll take care of the luggage and the patrols. You guys go have fun first."

Ryen's eyes lit up like he'd just witnessed the purest form of kindness.

Meanwhile, I almost laughed.

Please.

Anyone who coaxed you with sweet words wasn't doing it purely out of the goodness of their heart. I'd read the original story. I'd lived long enough in society. There were always strings attached—always.

This was the same kind of "kindness" as when your boss buys pizza for the office, then suddenly you're all "volunteering" to stay late.

Or when a relative says, "Don't worry about the dishes, you're a guest," but three hours later you're elbow-deep in soap bubbles because somehow you're still the youngest person in the room.

It wasn't evil. It wasn't even malicious. It was just… human.

And that was why it worked so well.

Because once we were softened up and in their debt, when it came time to really get our hands dirty… we'd be the ones picking up the slack.

Classic move.

And Ryen, bless his hopelessly earnest heart, had no idea.

I knew from experience that people who sugarcoated everything with sweet words rarely had pure intentions.

Not that these seniors were villains—they weren't. But they weren't telling us to "go have fun first" purely out of kindness either.

The Bloomlight Festival was famous for its night scenery. Lanterns, roses that glowed faintly under moonlight, couples strolling under strings of lights—the whole romantic package.

And since the seniors had to prep for the travel club's traditional surprise hidden-camera stunt—a "prank with heart," as they probably called it—it would be much easier for them if we were out of the way, conveniently distracted by sightseeing.

If I were the type who went weak in the knees at the sight of roses, maybe this would've been exciting. But I wasn't. So I decided to just play along with the seniors' cute little trick.

"Hey, Ryen," I said, stretching lazily, "since the seniors insist, let's go wander around on our own first."

Ryen's eyes widened, horrified. "What? How can we just leave them? At least let's help with their luggage."

For a split second, one of the seniors' smiles twitched. Barely noticeable—unless you were looking for it. Their luggage was almost certainly packed with cameras and other equipment. If Ryen got curious and unzipped one of those bags…

Well, the "surprise" would be ruined before it even began.

"Ahaha, no, no, really. We've got it handled," the senior cut in quickly, waving a hand as if shooing away a persistent salesman. "It's your first festival, right? Don't waste your time carrying bags. Go enjoy yourselves!"

I smirked inwardly.

Yep. Called it.

The seniors weren't bad people—they just weren't saints either. And that made them predictable.

Still, for Ryen's sake, I didn't say anything. Let him cling to his rose-tinted view of the world a little longer.

Ryen still looked like he wanted to argue, his sense of duty wrestling with the seniors' insistence. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like a fish gasping for air.

I sighed. "Ryen, if you really want to haul other people's bags so badly, I'll buy you a wheelbarrow. You can drag my laundry around campus when we get back."

That earned a small laugh from Keira, and even Leon smirked. Ryen, on the other hand, flushed red but finally shut his mouth. Victory.

The seniors, now free from the threat of Ryen's helpful nature, gave us a cheery wave and turned back to their luggage.

One of them muttered something about "setting up near the fountain" before disappearing into the crowd.

And just like that, we were left standing in the middle of a festival designed for people who weren't us.

"Well," Keira said brightly, "since we've got time, where should we go first? Food stalls? The lantern street? Ooh, I heard there's a contest where you can win a glowing flower crown if you hit all the targets—"

"Pass," I cut her off.

"What? Why?"

"Because it screams 'date event.' And knowing my luck, the prize will force me into some awkward scenario where people mistake us for a couple."

Keira tilted her head, amused. "Would that be so bad?"

"Yes. Catastrophic, even," I said flatly.

Leona snorted. "You overthink everything. Just pick a stall and let's get this over with."

"Ah, spoken like a true romantic," I shot back. "Don't worry, Leon, I'll make sure you don't accidentally trip and fall into anyone's arms tonight. Wouldn't want your reputation ruined by—heaven forbid—human contact."

She gave me a look that could peel paint. Which, honestly, only made my day brighter.

As we bickered our way down the main street, the festival scenery unfolded around us in all its glittering glory.

Lanterns swayed gently overhead, their paper shells glowing faintly even in the fading light.

Stalls were bursting with fried treats, skewered meats, candied fruits—all things that looked delicious but would probably cause stomach cramps if eaten in bulk.

Couples walked by hand-in-hand, their faces glowing as much as the lanterns above them.

At one of the stalls, a boy—clearly on his first attempt at romance—awkwardly held out a flower crown to a girl. His voice cracked halfway through his sentence, and the poor kid looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

The girl, of course, thought it was adorable. She covered her mouth with both hands, laughing softly before nodding with the kind of shy smile you'd see on a romance novel cover.

The crowd around them erupted into cheers, clapping and whistling as if they'd just witnessed the finale of a royal wedding.

I resisted the overwhelming urge to gag.

"Man," I muttered under my breath, "if this was a drinking game, I'd already be dead. One shot for every public display of affection? Alcohol poisoning in ten minutes, guaranteed."

Keira laughed out loud, clearly entertained. Leona sighed, the eternal babysitter, probably regretting every decision that had led her to standing next to me.

Even Nora—pink-haired menace that she was—let out a small chuckle at my words. But it didn't last long. Her gaze drifted back to Ryen, soft and expectant, as if the boy with the flower crown had just set the stage for what she wanted too.

And, of course, she wanted it from Ryen.

Her look wasn't subtle. It screamed, "When's it my turn?"

Poor Ryen had no idea. Or maybe he did, and that was the problem—he just didn't know what to do about it. Either way, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Because if this festival was already turning into a battlefield of romance, then he was standing on the frontlines without a shield.

And me?

I was just here for the comedy.

The flower-crown couple moved along, leaving behind a trail of cheers and jealous sighs. Unfortunately, their little scene had set the tone. Everywhere I looked, it was couples, couples, couples.

A guy was kneeling in front of his girlfriend with a stuffed animal bigger than himself. Another pair shared a candied apple like they were re-enacting some tragic romance from the history books.

I swear, if one more person batted their eyelashes, I was going to start handing out buckets for everyone to puke in.

"This place should come with a warning label," I muttered. "Caution: Side effects may include cavities from second-hand sweetness and severe nausea."

Keira snorted, nearly dropping the skewer she was eating. "You're impossible."

Leona shook her head but I caught the twitch of a smile she was trying to hide.

Babysitter she might be, but even she wasn't immune to my top-tier festival commentary.

And then there was Nora. Still staring at Ryen like he was the last flower crown in existence. Her tail practically wagged every time he so much as looked in her general direction.

Meanwhile, Ryen remained blissfully oblivious, pointing out another stall with that earnest grin of his. "Hey, want to try the flower lanterns later? They say if you write a wish on one and set it afloat, it'll come true."

Perfect. Wishes. As if the place wasn't already drowning in romance, now we had magical mood lighting to accelerate the process.

"Yeah, sure," I said, deadpan. "Let's all make a wish. Mine'll be for a stomach strong enough to survive the rest of this festival."

Keira burst out laughing again. Nora didn't even hear me this time—her whole focus was glued to Ryen.

I sighed. Yup. This trip's gonna kill me. Not from monsters, not from exams—just from secondhand embarrassment.