Mui Novels

A government office had been set up near the labyrinth.

Since dungeons—labyrinths—were under national control, there naturally had to be a system to manage them, and personnel to do that managing.

When a labyrinth was particularly lively, the attached government office was apparently called a “guild” by explorers, but Tooru did not understand why.

It was just a government office.

About as small as a neighborhood post office, it still had service counters, departments, and civil servants.

Since Tooru—Hayasaka Tooru—had taken up work as a cleaner, the officials at the Sugai Dungeon branch office had not changed. The section chief in charge of the wider area was almost never around; Tooru had seen him only once. The rest were three unmotivated employees, two of whom were hardly ever seen.

The remaining one was the person who mostly dealt with Tooru.

“Hey there. It’s Tooru.”

Tooru, who had no right to criticize anyone else’s lack of motivation, approached the branch office counter in a tone like someone five minutes after waking up and called out to the clerk who had been there unchanged for three years.

“Hello. You’re early today. Skipping work?”

The clerk, Kawai Sakiho, spoke without emotion. She seemed to have been killing time by watching some kind of stream on her mobile terminal—certainly not Tooru’s dungeon-cleaning stream.

At first glance, she looked like a capable professional woman, but Tooru had never once seen her display either motivation or competence.

“I noticed a strange noise partway through the third floor, so I came back to report it. It might just be my own condition, but anyway, there was this keeen… kind of sound, like tinnitus. It started around four hours and thirty-two minutes into the stream.”

“Is that so. Good work.”

Kawai said this without the slightest hint of interest.

They had been dealing with each other for three years now, but she had shown even a trace of kindness only about five times since they met. Other than that, all he received was the expected condescension toward a bottom-tier cleaner.

She had complained about his work on several occasions, and it was to leave proof that he was actually cleaning monsters that he had started streaming his work in the first place. That stream had proven useful more than once.

For reasons unknown, he had once been accused of “falsifying his monster kill count,” and by presenting the stream as evidence, he had forced them to retract the claim. At the time, Kawai had worn an expression as though she had been subjected to something terribly unreasonable—but that was Tooru’s line.

Why should a bottom-tier cleaner be scolded just for seriously hunting trash monsters in the upper layers of a labyrinth every day?

For that reason, Tooru had never counted on any kind of sympathetic ear—but he still had to maintain the appearance of having reported the incident. After all, Hayasaka Tooru was convenient as someone to casually pin responsibility on if anything went wrong.

“All right, I’ve made the report. Now, as usual, I’ll hand over the magic cores for purchase. I’m returning the full set of streaming equipment too.”

He said so and placed the waist pouch full of rice-sized magic cores on the counter. Kawai regarded it with the expression one might give to a scrap of trash on the street, then shot him a sharp glare.

“I keep saying this, but your kill count doesn’t make sense, Hayasaka-san. You’re supposed to be below D-rank, right? No matter how you look at it, your number and speed of kills are beyond D-rank. Are you cheating?”

“I’ve provided evidence that I’m not—multiple times.”

“Have you? I don’t remember.”

Tooru could not understand the nerve it took to insist on something like that with such a straight face.

Most likely, she was just venting her frustrations on him—being assigned to a branch office for a labyrinth that no one else would ever enter, and having that assignment last three whole years.

She had passed the civil service exam, secured a job connected to labyrinths, and yet her responsibility was a fully explored D-rank dungeon, with no signs of transfer. It was no wonder her morale had rotted.

But no matter what her feelings were, it was unacceptable for Tooru to be falsely accused. Being looked down on he could tolerate; having crimes fabricated against him was another matter entirely.

Yes, cleaners were likely at the very bottom among labyrinth personnel.

There was no hope of glamorous feats.

He could not be an explorer who swung a sword, cast magic, dodged a dragon’s breath to decapitate, or took a direct blow from an ogre.

Since his parents’ deaths three years ago, all he had done was continue hitting trash monsters with bundled steel rebar. Picking up rice-grain-sized magic cores, submitting them to the office in batches no bigger than two sushi pieces a day.

Yet—he paid his taxes properly, made a modest contribution to society through his life, and prevented dungeon stampedes as a cleaner.

There was no one who had any right to complain.

He had no intention of strutting around proudly, but neither was there any reason for him to live apologetically.

“All right, I’ve reported it, so today’s work is done. Good work.”

Tooru said this and turned on his heel, but Kawai didn’t even respond.

Glancing back briefly, he saw her already back to her job of watching streams on her mobile terminal.

It didn’t matter to him.

◇◇◇

He drove his small car back to his rundown apartment. Since he had returned earlier than usual, he decided to turn on his personal terminal and check his dungeon-streaming channel.

Tooru had gone through the trouble of creating an account on a major video-sharing site, opening a channel, and for two and a half years had been streaming the same monotonous cleaning work.

Of course, his subscriber count was in the single digits—who exactly was subscribed was a complete mystery—and almost none of his archived streams were ever played.

Comments appeared only rarely, and when they did, he either replied out of obligation or deleted them if they were spam. That was the extent of his management.

Today was no different.

Sighing, he opened a few recommended videos on the site just because the terminal was already on.

〈Hey everyone! I’m Saitou Megumi from the A-rank adventurer clan “Anthem”! Our next expedition will take us to a B-rank dungeon in ×× Prefecture!〉

A girl roughly Tooru’s age beamed at the camera with a dazzling smile.

It was a face he recognized from television. This group streamed dungeon explorations, and all the main members were A-rank or higher.

On top of that, every one of them was female and beautiful—a group seemingly blessed by the gods.

Apparently, it was a request from the prefectural government. They wanted the team to descend to the lower layers of a B-rank dungeon that had seen little exploration and push the conquest forward. Compared to Tooru’s cleaning work, the funds involved were probably astronomically higher.

〈Right now we’re staying at a hotel in the prefectural capital, and the food is amazing! Airi was even joking she might gain weight… ah, don’t use that part, okay? Eh, not allowed? Haha… anyway, it was delicious!〉

The A-rank idol explorer seemed friendly with the camera operator and smiled genuinely, radiating a joy that made it obvious she had no significant complaints about her life. Her tone and manner of speaking reinforced that impression.

In short, she was glowing.

“…Ah, ×× Prefecture—that’s just around here. That B-rank dungeon is probably pretty close to the Sugai Dungeon… Kamioka Dungeon, right?”

That said, Tooru had no idea when the “next” expedition Saitou Megumi mentioned on the video was actually scheduled. Normally, it would mean the footage had already been recorded, though there was a chance it could be a live dungeon stream.

Either way, it was a world far removed from Tooru’s own.

They would walk under the spotlight, supported by luck, talent, and skill. Highly publicized explorers like them would not embark on reckless expeditions; they would maintain sufficient safety margins, reach depths impossible for ordinary humans, and bring various benefits to humanity.

“Well, stay safe… do your best.”

The words slipped out with a hint of sarcasm, but they were sincere.

It would be a lie to say he felt no twinge of jealousy toward them—so dazzling and so unlike himself—but he did not wish to see them fall. Let them shine, far away in places he would never see.

He would neither actively celebrate them nor hold a grudge.

If someone like him at the bottom tried to interfere, it would be the end, Tooru thought.

“Good grief.”

He let out a deliberate sigh and rummaged through the fridge to make dinner. A grown man living alone long enough would eventually dabble in cooking, even without much interest—and nowadays, streaming sites made it easy to learn recipes from chefs.

“Looks like the neighbor… isn’t working today…”

Listening to the sounds through the wall, he muttered to himself while eating pasta. Then he turned on the TV without much interest, let the hours drift by, took a shower before sleepiness hit, laid out his work clothes for tomorrow, and collapsed onto the bed.

This was Hayasaka Tooru’s daily life.

—Until this day.