CHAPTER 61: ONLY THE SHADOWS UNDERSTAND... GRAVITY

Finn climbed the spiral staircase until he reached the top.

To his left, a wooden railing overlooked the guild hall below. To his right, a series of widely spaced doors stretched down the corridor, each marked with a number carved above—presumably for rooms large enough to qualify as "living spaces" in this bizarre world.

But what caught Finn off guard wasn’t the architecture.

It was the presence of Raze Nocturne.

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, one foot casually propped up behind him, Raze looked like he’d been waiting for this exact moment his entire life.

Which was weird—because Finn swore this dude was downstairs not even five minutes ago, brooding against the pillar downstairs.

Finn just stared at him.

Not out of concern.

Not even curiosity.

Just... the outfit. It was all black leather, complete with crimson straps everywhere, more belts of his knees for some reason, a half-cloak, and fingerless gloves. A fashion disaster that screamed "I peaked during taruto AMVs."

The dude clearly added more to his outfit... and only made it worse.

The rest of the girls caught up and instinctively stopped next to Finn, staring too—simply because he was staring. It became a weird group observation session.

Raze noticed them. He gave a slow, cryptic glance... like he’d just come out of a filler arc with way too much monologue.

Then, in a cold, try-hard voice:

"Only those who live in the shadows... understand the shadows. Hmph."

Finn blinked. ’What the hell is he even saying?’ he wondered. It was like watching a freshman theater kid practice in the mirror and think it was deep.

Lickthorn looked genuinely interested, like she wanted to ask the shadows out for dinner. Chestelle nodded with eerie understanding. She didn’t get it. But she nodded anyway. Majestria, meanwhile, was inspecting her nails.

Then Raze stepped off the wall and slowly approached Finn, his cloak flapping unnecessarily despite the lack of wind.

"You," Raze said, voice low. "You carry the scent of midnight sorrow... I can tell. Our paths will intertwine in the darkness yet to come. Hmph."

The group instinctively side-stepped to let him pass.

As he descended the stairs, he paused—dramatically—one last time.

"Darkness..." he said, "only listens when no one else will. Hmph."

He turned. Took a step.

And completely missed the stair.

FWUMP.

He tumbled down in the most undignified, ragdoll-style descent the world had ever seen—rolling, flipping, slamming every joint on every step, groaning with pain the whole way down. A few thuds sounded distinctly bone-snappy. One sounded wet.

At the bottom, a single, guttural moan escaped him:

"Euughhh..."

Finn stared down the staircase, wide-eyed. "Holy shit... are you okay?" he called.

"...Augh."

Finn turned away. "Yeah, he’s fine." He started walking again. "Let’s go."

The girls followed.

Not a single one looked back.

They kept walking—completely ignoring the fact that some edgy anime reject just ragdolled down a staircase and probably shattered his pelvis into confetti.

Finn scanned the numbers above each door as they walked. He frowned.

’Of course they number things stupid here too...’ he groaned internally.

The sequence made no sense:

7/7... 6/7... 5/7...

"Why is this world allergic to logic?" Finn muttered, sighing like he’d just been handed a group project with six toddlers.

Then—something caught his attention.

Room 5/7 was not quiet.

Soft moans. Rhythmic creaking. Skin-on-skin slaps.

Finn’s ears perked up like a raccoon near a trash can.

He crept up to the door, gently pressed his ear to it—and oh, yes. It was happening. People were gettin’ freaky.

Finn let out a low, perverted giggle. His eyes glimmered like a man rediscovering his faith through audio porn.

Majestria tilted her head, deeply confused by his behavior.

Chestelle, seeing Finn do it, followed suit—pressing her ear to the door like a devoted parrot mimicking human sin. Her eyes widened.

Then Lickthorn joined, raising a brow. As soon as the sounds hit her ears, she began to drool. Instantly. Like someone just microwaved her libido.

Majestria’s voice cut through. "What the hell are you three doing?"

Finn, without looking back, shushed her. "Shh. This is a sacred moment."

But then—the moans changed.

No longer soft and feminine. Now deep. Masculine.

"Oh yeah, baby. How good is that dick?"

"It’s amaaaazing!" the other man wailed, passionately getting railed into another realm.

Finn’s face transformed in real time. From delight, to realization, to existential horror.

He yanked himself away from the door like it had electrocuted him.

Lickthorn, meanwhile, leaned in even closer. Her drool forming an expanding puddle on the wooden floor.

Chestelle simply mirrored Finn’s reaction with a delayed "Ew," spoken in a tone like she was reading the word off a box.

For once, Majestria was the most mentally stable person in the room.

She crossed her arms, disgusted. "You people are revolting. Driven by fleshly desires? Absolutely pitiful. You should be ashamed."

Finn rolled his eyes. "Like you would know anything about it."

"I know plenty about..." she trailed off, her voice growing quieter. "Sex."

Finn’s eyes widened. "Wait... so that means—"

"I’d obviously be the best at it." she said proudly, puffing her chest.

Finn blinked. "So you’ve done it?"

"Of course not. I have standards. Ew." She rejected the idea so fast it gave Finn emotional whiplash.

’I am so confused and aroused right now,’ Finn thought, holding back tears of tension.

Drop.

A wet plop echoed.

They all turned.

Lickthorn hadn’t moved. Ear still pressed to the door, she was drooling like a malfunctioning faucet. A huge puddle had formed beneath her.

"Stop her!" Finn cried, panicking.

Majestria recoiled. "Absolutely not. I will not be touching that sticky goblin with my divine hands."

"DAMN IT!"

"Finn is shirtless and naked," Chestelle said matter-of-factly.

Lickthorn’s ear peeled off the door. Her eyes narrowed, locked in like a predator sniffing prey.

"Where?" she growled, voice suddenly alert.

She looked at Finn.

He was very much not shirtless. Just exhausted and confused.

Lickthorn’s face deflated into pure disappointment. Her intense lust turned into the deadpan stare of someone who found out Santa wasn’t real...

"You lied..." Lickthorn muttered, deeply disappointed, her voice hollow like she’d just watched the ending to a bad anime.

Chestelle just giggled, completely unbothered—like she hadn’t just emotionally devastated a walking fetish demon.

Finn ignored them. He was too spiritually broken to care. Wordlessly, he kept walking down the hall, eyes half-lidded like a tired salaryman ready to die.

Finally... they reached it.

Room 2/7.

Finn stopped. He stared at the door like it had personally wronged him.

He sighed. Closed his eyes. Slowly reached for the handle.

And opened the door—

Only to be met with the worst possible outcome one could imagine.