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The structure of Stellan's Well was simple.
It resembled a tomb, giving anyone inside the oppressive feeling of being a toad trapped under a pot lid.
Dark. Damp.
The winding stone steps before them descended gradually, neither steep nor narrow—each step was wide enough for a full stride, roughly 70-80 cm. The stairs seemed to "slide" downward along with the darkness, vanishing into the slope.
And sliding down alongside the steps were…
Dense clusters of heads.
—Faceless dolls stood on either side of the stairs, their arms stiffly placed at their sides.
Dull.
Rigid.
Human-like.
Yet inhuman.
One after another.
Row upon row.
Their heads tilted slightly, staring unblinkingly.
Gazing into the distance, melting into the darkness—while the darkness, in turn, melted into their featureless faces.
The farther they stretched, the more indistinct they became.
But precisely because of this, it created an eerie sensation of being watched.
Faceless "people," peering from the shadows.
The uncanny valley effect stabbed sharply into the mind.
Yet this feeling lasted only a moment. The sunlight behind them, the bustling city, the noise of docked ships, and the single beam of light shining down ahead all swiftly and firmly diluted the dread.
The proof?
"There's water down there!!"
Eris, ever the blunt and cheerful one—at least to her allies—had eyes that flared like fire. In an instant, her excited shout exploded through the space, burning away the discomfort like embers scattered by flame!
But one person remained frightened, clutching tightly to Allen's sleeve.
Allen himself was somewhat dazed. From the moment he saw the dolls, fragmented memories had been swirling in his mind, struggling to surface but never quite breaking through. Eris' outburst scattered his thoughts before they could solidify.
Still, his little wife was scared—of course he had to comfort her.
Nothing wrong with that, right?
So he turned his head.
And froze.
Reflected in Allen's stunned eyes was—
Rudeus, his face pale, gripping Allen's sleeve for dear life and pressing close.
So passionate!
Meanwhile, in his peripheral vision, Isolte and Sylphie only showed mild surprise before both turned to stare at Rudeus.
Their expressions were grave!
Wait, dude—you're a 34-year-old NEET scared of this??
Allen instinctively raised a fist, ready to punch Rudeus, but then blinked and reconsidered.
…Ah. Right. For someone from the modern era, exposed to countless horror stories and gore-filled media, this "real" scene was far more unsettling, far harder to accept.
The collision between fiction and reality amplified fear. Meanwhile, the natives of this sword-and-magic world were already accustomed to bizarre sights.
After all, their world actually had ghosts.
That was Allen's take.
But not everyone agreed.
Eris, seeing Rudeus' "pathetic" state, raised an eyebrow—then smacked him across the head!
Rudeus stumbled forward, crashing into Allen's chest.
The blow worked instantly. Humiliation and anger replaced his fear, snapping him out of the eerie trance. He whipped around, furious.
"What the hell?! Why'd you hit me again?! Can't you control your brutish temper?!"
"What am I doing?!"
Rudeus was baffled.
"I didn't do anyth—…Huh?"
Mid-sentence, he noticed the intense stares directed at him. He turned slowly toward the source.
—Isolte and Sylphie were both watching him, their expressions strange. A hint of murderous intent… and a hint of…
Envy?
??
Envy?!
He blinked, then looked down.
Allen's chest was right in front of him.
He looked up.
Allen was staring at him, deadpan.
Rudeus leaped out of Allen's arms, pressing himself against the nearby wall. His face cycled through several emotions before his "abstract survival instincts" kicked in. In a flash, he crafted an excuse and declared with conviction:
"W-What am I doing? Allen looked scared, so I… comforted him."
Allen: …
Isolte: …
Sylphie: …
Eris: (◣_◢)ノ
Eris raised her hand to smack him again—
But Allen casually caught her wrist and gave her a few soothing pats.
Instantly, Eris settled down with a "Hmph!" and dropped the matter.
Rudeus sighed in relief—
Then froze.
Something felt off.
The wall behind him was hard and uncomfortable against his back.
He slowly turned his head.
The sound of rushing water echoed from below the steps.
Before him, a doll's gray, lifeless face "stared" at him.
Gulp.
He heard himself swallow.
The next second—
A hand shot past his ear, gripping the doll's neck in a flash!
Allen stepped forward, yanking Rudeus behind him, and frowned at the doll now caught in his grasp.
The doll simply stared back—literally, since it had no face.
Allen narrowed his eyes.
Unlike a human neck, the texture under his fingers was hard and unyielding.
Absently, he rubbed his thumb against it.
Nearby, Isolte and Sylphie both stiffened.
Allen had moved too fast—one moment he was standing there, the next, he was…
Caressing the doll's neck.
Though his posture was aggressive, the motion itself seemed almost gentle.
Their emotions tangled.
Logically, they knew Allen was likely checking the doll's material.
But emotionally…
They felt something complicated.
How to put it…
They kind of…
Wanted…
To…
Become that doll.
The moment the thought surfaced, they both paused, exchanged glances, and blushed before looking away.
What am I thinking…?
But it wasn't a strange reaction. If Aria had been here, she'd probably have dropped to her knees by now.
Such was the power of the Unemployed Succubus.
Unaware of his effect, Allen tilted his head and lifted the doll's coarse, fisherman-like outer garment.
As expected, its body was made of rusted iron, covered in fine, gritty corrosion.
After a few seconds of scrutiny, Allen shook his head. With Rudeus' interruption and the confirmation that these were just ordinary dolls—not hiding assassins or some ambush—he relaxed slightly.
Yet the strange unease from earlier lingered.
His thoughts remained scattered, like a thin thread he couldn't untangle. A sense of foreboding clung to him, as if he'd forgotten something critical.
"Look!"
Eris' excited voice snapped him back.
Allen turned toward the base of the steps.
The stairs led straight into the water—but no one was expected to walk into it.
Instead, hidden in the darkness at the midpoint, a bridge connected their side to an arched doorway on the opposite end.
This was the intended path.
And during the half-minute the group had spent bickering…
Two figures had appeared on the bridge.
Humans—the only other people in Stellan's Well besides their group of five.
They paid no attention to Rudeus and Sylphie's squabble, standing at the center of the bridge, bathed in the shaft of light from above.
Now, with their presence, the beam took on a clearer shape—stretching from the skylight to the water below.
They raised their hands, placing their "Divine Attendants" into the light.
Dust motes floated in the air, casting shimmering patterns over the fish-shaped charms. Their scales glittered before—
Plop.
—They dropped into the "well" of light.
Allen and the others blinked, recalling the vendor's words:
"They are mediums for wishes. Only by casting the Divine Attendant into the well can one forge a 'connection' with the gods and gain the right to make a wish."
Then, two overlapping voices spoke:
"In this life, this dawn—in the next life, the next sunset."
"Through sickness and health, I wish…"
"To remain by your side."
A prayer.
A vow.
As the words faded, even the eerie, expressionless faces of the dolls flanking the couple seemed to take on a holy glow.
The pair smiled at each other, shared a brief, chaste kiss, then—
Hand in hand, they stepped lightly across the bridge, up the stairs, and through the archway's curtain of light.
Gone.
The ritual was complete.
Despite the crude surroundings, the moment was sacred.
And it left all five of them stunned.
Because.
Those were two burly men.
Allen: …
Isolte: …
Sylphie: …
Rudeus: …
Even Eris was speechless for a moment before muttering in horrified confusion:
"What… were they doing…?"
Allen's jaw hung open. The closer they got to the royal capital, the more wild the tastes of this world's inhabitants became.
Sugar-coated poison.
Absolutely inedible.
He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally forcing out:
"W-Well, putting aside… that… their words were… beautiful, right?"
"Mhm." / "Yes, they were."
Eris frowned, still not comprehending, but Isolte and Sylphie answered in unison—despite the question being meant for Eris.
Allen turned to them.
The two girls, realizing they'd spoken out of turn, immediately grew flustered. Sylphie fiddled with her skirt, while Isolte studied the steps.
Now Allen was even more confused.
Wait, we're having a romantic tension moment HERE?!
How absurd!
The air grew heavy.
Rudeus, seeing Allen's discomfort, coughed lightly and—with the air of a man who believed this family would collapse without him—suggested:
"Since no one's at the well now… should we go?"
—
Their footsteps echoed through the well as they descended the stairs, crossed the bridge, and moved forward under the dolls' watchful gaze.
Soon, they stood before the pillar of light.
Below them, past the dolls, was the blue-green "well."
But with the sun setting outside, the shimmering reflections had dimmed.
Likely for this reason, no new visitors entered from either archway.
Clearly, the well's "wishing hours" were limited to daylight and moonlit nights.
At all other times, the "Wishing Well" would remain dark.
Sylphie, Isolte, Eris, and Rudeus stood before the light, each holding their Divine Attendants aloft.
Allen lingered behind, watching as their hands were bathed in gold.
The ritual was about to begin.
Leaning against a doll, arms crossed, Allen's lips curled into a faint smile as his gaze swept over them.
Sylphie. Isolte. Eris. Rudeus.
Their names flickered through his mind.
But as he watched, his focus began to drift.
Ever since entering Stellan's Well, despite the chaos, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd overlooked something vital.
Something important.
It was on the tip of his tongue—but he couldn't recall it.
His brow furrowed deeper.
In his peripheral vision, the dolls stood utterly still.
No joy, no sorrow—just silently…
Watching him.
Then, in a flash—
The wind whispered past his ear.
His senses sharpened.
The water's ripples, the group's breathing, the dust dancing in the light—
And the dolls' shadows on the bridge.
Motionless.
Absolutely motionless.
Allen's pupils contracted.
They shouldn't move… but in Mushoku Tensei, do dolls ever move?
The answer is YES.
At that moment—
A faint creak sounded behind him.
At his waist.
The wind shifted.
Two doll arms shot from the darkness, aiming straight for his ribs!
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