Hiroshi sat by the window when the knock came.
A month had passed since the dungeon. His body had recovered. The headaches were gone. He could walk without feeling like his legs would give out. The priest had stopped visiting three days ago, declaring him fit enough to leave whenever the Church decided what to do with him next.
The knock came again.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened. A girl walked in, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with dark hair tied back and violet eyes. She wore a simple dress, no jewelry, nothing that screamed nobility. But the way she carried herself said enough.
"Princess Elara," Hiroshi said.
"I told you, Just Elara is fine." She closed the door behind her and glanced around the room. "This is where they've been keeping you?"
"Hm.."
She pulled the chair closer to his bed and sat down, setting a leather satchel on the table. "How are you feeling?"
"Alive. Which apparently surprises some people."
"Yes," she said quietly. "It does."
They'd met few times before. Once during his initial summoning ceremony, where she'd been standing near the back with the other minor royals. Once two weeks ago when she'd visited briefly, asking strange questions about his curse while a priest hovered nearby. This was the first time they'd spoken alone.
"I've been researching," Elara said. She opened the satchel and pulled out a notebook filled with dense handwriting. "The Expendable Curse. I wanted to understand how it works."
"And?"
"It's worse than I thought."
Hiroshi waited.
Elara flipped through her notes. "The curse reduces experience gain by half. Every monster you kill, every bit of growth you should have earned gets cut in half before it reaches you."
"I know that part."
"But did you know it's not passive? It's active suppression. Something is taking that experience. It doesn't just disappear. It goes somewhere."
Hiroshi leaned forward. "Where?"
"The records are restricted. But I found references in older texts, from before the current summoning system was established. The experience taken from Expendables feeds into something. A ritual, maybe. Or a reservoir of some kind."
"Why would they do that?"
"Think about it. Support heroes with the curse can never grow strong enough to threaten anyone. They stay weak, dependent, easy to discard when they're no longer useful. Meanwhile, the Church collects power from every Expendable they summon."
Hiroshi processed this. "How many Expendables have they summoned?"
"Two hundred and fourteen."
"What happened to them?" Hiroshi asked.
"Dungeons. Monster attacks. Disease. Some just disappeared." She met his eyes. "And some died under suspicious circumstances that were never investigated."
Hiroshi stood and walked to the window. The courtyard below was empty. "You think the Church is killing Hero's with the Expendable Curse."
"I think someone is. Whether it's official policy or individual actors, I don't know yet. But the pattern is there. Expendables who survive tend to vanish. The ones who develop useful abilities despite the curse tend to die suddenly."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're different." Elara stood as well, crossing to where he stood. "Your ability. Skill Copy. Do you know how rare that is?"
"The Church didn't seem impressed."
"The Church is blind. Or pretending to be." She pulled out another page from her notes.
"I've been tracking your recorded defeats. The wraiths in the dungeon. The goblins before that. Each time you copy a skill, you're building a foundation that bypasses normal growth limitations. You're not leveling up like other heroes. You're accumulating abilities directly."
"The curse still cuts my experience in half."
"But it doesn't stop you from gaining skills. That's the loophole. Experience feeds stats and levels. Skills are separate. You're growing in a way the curse wasn't designed to suppress completely."
Hiroshi turned to face her. "So what? I'm still weaker than any frontline hero. Half experience means I'll always be behind."
"In raw stats, yes. But skills matter more than people think. A level twenty fighter with basic skills loses to a level fifteen fighter with ten specialized abilities. You're building a toolkit. The question is whether you'll survive long enough to use it."
"Someone's trying to make sure I don't."
"I know." Elara's voice dropped. "The dungeon assignment wasn't random. I checked the records. Newly summoned hero's are supposed to be rotated through low-risk support roles for at least six months before entering E-rank dungeons. You were sent in after two weeks."
"Who authorized it?"
"Bishop. But I don't think he acted alone."
Hiroshi's jaw tightened. "You think he'll try again."
"I think someone will. Whether it's the bishop or whoever's pulling his strings." She hesitated. "I'm trying to find out who. But my access is limited. I'm not exactly in the inner circle."
"Because of your mother."
"Because of my mother," she confirmed without bitterness. "The concubine's daughter. Recognized princess because my magic talent was too strong to ignore, but still an outsider. I have a title and no power to use it."
She smiled slightly. "We're both official and expendable. Just in different ways."
"Is there anyway to remove the curse?"
"No." The answer was flat. "I've looked. The curse is divine in origin. It's not a spell someone cast. It's woven into the summoning ritual itself. Breaking it would require power I don't think anyone have."
"Can it be suppressed? Weakened?"
Elara paused. "Maybe. There are theoretical methods. Dark magic rituals that interfere with divine curses. Certain artifacts that might disrupt the connection. But all of them are either forbidden, expensive, or require materials I can't access."
"But it's possible."
"Maybe," she admitted. "Just dangerous. And if the Church found out you were trying to break the curse, they'd have justification to execute you. Tampering with divine marks is heresy."
"So I'm stuck with it."
"For now." She returned to her chair and gathered her notes. "I'll keep researching. If I find something actionable, I'll let you know. In the meantime, you need to be careful. Someone wants you dead. Don't make it easy for them."
"I've been stuck in this room for a month. I'm not making anything easy."
"That won't last. The Church will assign you to another mission eventually. When they do, watch your back. Don't trust the party composition. Don't trust the dungeon rating. And don't trust anyone who says they're looking out for you."
"Except you?"
"Except me," she said. "I have my own reasons for wanting you alive. Call it whatever you want. But I'm not trying to kill you."
"That's a low bar for trust."
"It's the best you're going to get."
She moved toward the door, then stopped. "One more thing. Your party members from the dungeon. The swordsman, the mage, the paladin. Have you heard from them in past few weeks?"
"No."
"That's strange. Usually parties stay in contact, especially after a successful clear. Either they're avoiding you, or someone told them to stay away."
"Why would someone do that?"
"Because witnesses are complications. If they saw something in that dungeon that contradicts the official report, keeping you isolated makes sense." She opened the door. "I'll look into it. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
"Stupid like what?"
"Like trying to investigate on your own. Or confronting Bishop. Or doing anything that gets you killed before I figure out what's happening."
"I'll try to restrain myself."
She smiled, brief and genuine. "Good. I'll be back in a week. Maybe two. Stay alive until then."
She left, closing the door softly behind her.
Hiroshi sat back down by the window.
Half his experience, stolen by a curse woven into divine ritual. A Church that might be systematically killing Hero's with Expendable curse. A princess with her own agenda who was either his only ally or playing a longer game he couldn't see yet.
And somewhere out there, people in a dark room making plans about whether he should live or die.
He looked down at his hands.
He needed to survive longer.