He had already begun to lose interest in what was happening right in front of him.

That, at least, was Hayasaka Tooru—Tooru’s—honest impression.

He had come because he was summoned, endured listening to a tedious meeting, and just when it finally seemed like the discussion had turned toward him, he was branded a liar.

Of course, he understood that it was only natural they wouldn’t believe him.

Even so, he had no desire to watch someone who was probably older than his own parents—well, his parents were dead, but still—start shrieking in such an undignified manner. Constructive discussion was supposed to be one of humanity’s strong points, yet to Tooru, this conference room was no different from a monkey hill at a zoo.

Shouting at the top of one’s lungs. Flaunting brute force.

If superiority was decided by things like that, it was all just too idiotic to take seriously.

“Ah—hey, can I say something for a sec? Um… yeah, you keep those guys quiet. They’re noisy, and this isn’t going anywhere. I’m worried about Sadoyama-san’s condition, but he’s a former A-rank explorer, so he should be fine. It’s not like you went all out on him, right?”

He raised his hand and stood up, dumping the job of watching the elderly men on Tia, who was standing imposingly in the center of the conference room, before turning to face Anthem’s manager.

She seemed like the person most likely to understand reason here. Whether she actually would was something he wouldn’t know until he tried talking to her.

“…What is it, Hayasaka-san?”

Looking somewhat intimidated, Manager Hamamatsu Nanami tilted her head in confusion.

“This doesn’t feel like a discussion anymore, and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna end, so I wanna get my business done and head home. Sadoyama-san said ‘just wait a bit,’ and then that happened to him. Even if we keep waiting, it doesn’t seem like anything’s gonna get resolved.”

“…However, in today’s meeting, we also needed to discuss your treatment, Hayasaka-san… I mean, that was precisely the topic just now…”

“Ah… I see. Hey, you—disappear once and come back wearing your armor.”

“Hm? Ah, I see. Understood.”

When he called out to Tia, who had been glaring at the elderly men, she briefly looked thoughtful, then nodded right away.

And then—she vanished.

The holy sword she had been carrying clattered loudly as it fell to the floor.

“Huh—?”

“Eh—?”

Someone let out a bewildered voice, but Tooru didn’t bother reacting. After taking a breath, he confirmed that Tia had reappeared in the same armored appearance as yesterday, and nodded in satisfaction.

That town-girl outfit suited her too, but the light armor looked good on her as well.

“You saw that, right? She can pop in and out like that. According to her, the Holy Sword Lightbringer connects to its owner’s soul or something. Some kind of memories or spirit clinging to the holy sword used my soul to incarnate—that’s what she said. I don’t know how true that is; that’s just her story.”

“…Th-this is… quite surprising…”

“Anyway, we got past the hidden room where the swords were stuck, somehow made our way through the dungeon, and came out between the fourteenth and fifteenth floors of the Kamioka Dungeon. It felt like some kind of hidden layer, but I don’t really know. Then, while we were climbing the stairs, she ran off to help someone.”

He wrapped it up with, the rest you already know.

“One thing—! No, two things, if I may!”

The one who raised her voice was Kagurazaka Chizuru, the katana wielder from Anthem, who until now had maintained complete silence.

Tooru had learned this morning from looking things up online that she was younger than both the leader, Saitou Megumi, and the healing mage, Midou Airi—and that she was the youngest explorer ever to reach A-rank.

“Ah… yeah, go ahead.”

“Forgive me. I am Kagurazaka Chizuru. You likely already know this, but I am a member of Anthem—the ones you saved yesterday. Thank you for rescuing us. Tia-dono as well, and Hayasaka-sama… if not for you, we would have died. Please allow me to express my gratitude. It may be late, but… truly, thank you very much.”

As she bowed deeply, her samurai-like ponytail bobbed slightly. When he noticed, Saitou Megumi, seated beside her, had also lowered her head, which left Tooru with mixed feelings.

To begin with, he had already been thanked to the point of exhaustion yesterday.

They had been completely disoriented at the time, so perhaps it hadn’t really sunk in for them that they had even said their thanks.

“It’s fine, really. She just sensed you were in trouble and took off running. After that, things just kind of happened. It’s not like I was determined to save you or anything. At least, not me.”

He shrugged and pointed at Tia. She responded with a bright smile and a small wave of her hand. Tooru wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that.

“No, regardless of how you felt about it, the fact remains that we were saved, and that we are grateful. That much, at least, I wanted to convey.”

“…Sigh. Fine, I’ll take it. What was the second thing?”

For some reason, he felt as though he were speaking with an actual samurai. Still, the fact that a proper conversation was happening made this time feel a hundred times more worthwhile than the earlier meeting.

Kagurazaka drew her neatly shaped eyebrows together in worry, hesitated just a little, and then spoke.

“Um… th-this may be an impertinent question, and I understand if you think so. However, it is something I very much wish to know, so I ask you, swallowing my embarrassment.”

She looked oddly tense; on closer inspection, her cheeks were faintly flushed as well.

Had she fallen in love at first sight?—that thought never crossed Tooru’s mind. No one would fall for a bottom-feeder like him. At best, the only woman who might deal with him would be one crawling along the bottom just like he was.

That wasn’t resignation so much as lived experience.

Just as Kawai Sakiho, the Sugai Dungeon clerk, had naturally looked down on Tooru. Just as the elderly men now being silenced by Tia looked down on ordinary citizens and explorers alike. People lived their lives while unconsciously sensing their own position in the hierarchy.

The cat beastkin—Mika’s mother—had felt a sense of closeness toward Tooru in the same way.

A woman whose only option was to raise her daughter through work in the nightlife industry had judged that it was acceptable to leave her child with Tooru because she likely sensed that they were of the same kind.

And Tooru thought so as well.

Mika’s mother’s hardships and small daily joys felt somehow familiar to him.

In stark contrast to the elderly men in the conference room, who felt far more distant than another world ever could.

Perhaps people could only truly open their hearts to those who stood on the same stage as themselves.

Tooru himself was keenly aware that he was at the bottom.

An A-rank explorer lived on a completely different stage of life.

…Unaware of Tooru’s inner reflections, Kagurazaka Chizuru hesitated for several long seconds before finally speaking.

“Hayasaka-sama… may I ask what school your swordsmanship belongs to? That slash which slew the Black Knight—so horrifying, yet so beautiful. I was deeply moved by it. It surpassed any sword stroke I have ever seen! I felt as though I had witnessed the very pinnacle of the blade!”

With every word, Kagurazaka seemed to grow more and more feverish, and to Tooru, it was honestly rather unsettling.

He had thought she was simply a serious person, but it turned out she might be a dangerous one… though, perhaps seriousness and being dangerous could coexist.

“Uh… sorry, but I don’t have any school or anything. It was the first time I’d ever held a katana, and the first time I’d properly cut down a monster, too.”

“That’s impossible! That movement was the result of an unimaginable amount of training—a-ah! Forgive me! I did not mean to doubt you, Hayasaka-sama…”

“It’s fine, I guess…”

It was just a little scary.

A different kind of fear from the intimidation he felt toward a powerhouse like Sadoyama.

He also couldn’t understand at all why she kept addressing him with reverence using ‘sama’.

“B-by the way, Hayasaka-sama. You said you wanted to finish your business and go home—what exactly is that business?”

As if to smooth things over, she redirected the conversation. The fact that she had the presence of mind to do so was, in itself, a little frightening—but Tooru was grateful for the opening.

“Ah… I brought the monster magic cores from the monsters we beat in that hidden layer I mentioned earlier, plus the core from yesterday’s Black Knight, and the dragon scale—apparently a rare drop. I don’t have an explorer’s license, so when I thought about it, I realized I can’t just sell these normally.”

The minor magic cores he gathered during his usual cleaning work were covered by his contract—‘any picked up incidentally will be bought by the branch office’. That didn’t count as an explorer defeating monsters and selling their cores.

But treating the magic cores from the Black Ogre and the Black Knight as part of routine cleaning would be pushing it. If the Sugai Dungeon branch office refused to buy them, that would be the end of it. In that case, it made more sense to have Anthem—whom he had helped—take the magic cores and the dragon scale instead. That was his judgment.

“So, yeah. That’s the deal.”

Tooru opened the duffel bag he had placed on the long table and laid out several magic cores and the dragon scale. They were apparently large enough to impress even A-rank explorers, as Kagurazaka and Saitou Megumi both let out impressed murmurs.

And then—

Not everyone merely expressed admiration.

“May I have a word? By convention, magic cores and dungeon materials discovered by non-explorers are purchased by the local government, and anything found during contracted work should generate rights for the prime contractor—in this case, S City…”

The youngest-looking man among the elderly seats—the mayor—spoke up.

Tooru found himself mildly impressed that, even under Tia’s intimidating glare, the man still prioritized the city’s interests. The members of Anthem, however, did not seem to share that sentiment.

“Is that truly your position, Mayor Endou?”

Manager Hamamatsu Nanami asked the question with narrowed eyes. Kagurazaka Chizuru and Saitou Megumi were also directing looks of open disdain toward the mayor.

“Whether it is or not, it is a matter of interpretation. You are aware of the law that prohibits minors from selling dungeon-produced materials, are you not? That law exists to deter dungeon exploration by minors—either alone or among themselves. Its purpose is to eliminate the possibility of impoverished minors being forced into exploration by third parties. Of course, that is not its only intent.”

“And you believe that justifies the city confiscating the magic cores Hayasaka-san recovered?”

‘Confiscating’ is a rather loaded term. If we were to condone contract laborers independently acquiring magic cores outside the scope of their agreements, would that not raise the same concerns as in the case of minors?”

In other words, it would open the door to a business model where people below D-rank—those not even recognized as explorers—were thrown into dungeons and made to retrieve magic cores.

By that logic, one might ask whether it was acceptable in the first place to employ bottom-dwellers like Tooru as “cleaners” simply because the dungeon was unpopular—but—

Well, it probably was acceptable.

If a bottom-tier man who volunteered for the job died during cleaning work, no one would really be troubled by it. If he didn’t like it, he simply shouldn’t have taken the job.

“I see. Then, Hayasaka-san, thank you for securing the magic cores and the dragon scale to which we, Anthem, hold the rights. Taking into account the fact that you also saved our members, we will prepare a reward equal to twice the standard sale price.”

Bringing her exchange with the mayor to an abrupt end, Hamamatsu Nanami said this as though it were the most natural thing in the world, then bowed to Tooru.

That was some quick thinking.

The fact that Tooru found himself admiring it like an outsider was probably because the mayor’s face had twisted unpleasantly. To lose, through nothing but words, the magic cores and materials he had assumed would come to him for free—well, that would put anyone in a foul mood.

“W-w-wait just a moment! That’s not what we agreed on! The dungeon materials Hayasaka Tooru recovered were supposed to be taken in by our city as the prime contractor!”

“That would be the case if Hayasaka-san were submitting them to S City as the prime contractor, yes—since he does not appear to hold the legal rights. However, he recovered dungeon materials that Anthem had been scheduled to collect. In that situation, after saving our members and even securing magic cores and boss drops, offering him a deal more favorable than usual as a sign of our gratitude is hardly unreasonable.”

“But the Black Ogre’s magic cores he mentioned have nothing whatsoever to do with Anthem’s activities.”

“If that is your argument, then wouldn’t Hayasaka-san’s actions after triggering the teleportation trap likewise have nothing whatsoever to do with his cleaning duties in the Sugai Dungeon?”

“Ah… then that’s fine. I’ll return what I was holding onto. As for the money, contact me later. Section Chief Sadoyama has my contact info.”

Growing tired of it all, he cut in mid-argument.

The mayor stared at Tooru in shock, but there was no reason for Tooru to suddenly awaken to civic pride now. It wasn’t enough to make his blood boil—but he had no intention of being considerate, either.

I don’t know you and I don’t care, the man’s attitude made perfectly clear.

In that case, there was no reason for Tooru to spare a thought for him in return.

“Understood. Thank you for coming all this way today.”

At Hamamatsu Nanami’s words, Tooru casually dumped the contents of the duffel bag onto the long table—and then, as something occurred to him, he decided to ask a question.

“Well, it’s not really my concern anymore, but… what was this meeting even about, in the end? I don’t feel like anything particularly meaningful got discussed.”

“It ended up being after-the-fact consent for you, Hayasaka-san, but—as I said at the very start—the act of making this meeting public was itself the point.”

With a clearly manufactured smile, Hamamatsu Nanami gestured toward the area around the projector. Looking more closely, Tooru noticed that some extra piece of equipment seemed to be attached to the projector itself.

A camera for streaming, perhaps.

They had said the meeting would be public… but had it been broadcast in real time?

To begin with, there was no way a local city mayor or prefectural assembly members could hope to match, either in political standing or in a battle of wits, personnel from an A-rank explorer clan backed by the national government.

Hah, Tooru snorted and waved carelessly toward the projector. He had no idea how “Worksite Bro” was being talked about online right now, but that was something he could check later.

It was probably along the lines of an unpleasant guy with a bad head, bad personality, and bad attitude.

“Alright, we’re done. Let’s grab some food on the way home.”

When he called out to her, Tia quickly vanished, then manifested again, reverting to that town-girl outfit. She picked up the holy sword that had been lying on the floor, and—

“Yeah! I’m looking forward to it!”

—smiled, genuinely happy.

That, Tooru thought, was probably the most valuable thing to come out of today.