“H-Hey—Chizuru! What do you think you’re doing!?”
The one who sprang up from her seat with a loud bang was Irselia Lumiester—the “noble, high-minded elf,” as Tooru had labeled her.
Anthem’s manager, Hamamatsu Nanami, seemed unable to keep up with how the situation was unfolding. With a flustered expression, she darted her gaze back and forth between Tooru, Irselia, and the woman prostrating herself on the floor—Kagurazaka Chizuru—but no one paid her any mind.
After all, the dogeza was too perfect.
The so-called Japanese dogeza was something even Tooru, a native Japanese, had only ever seen in fiction. Maybe—if he reached back to a time so distant it made his head spin—he might have seen it in a period drama, back when his grandparents were still alive… around the era of the Chain Stampedes. Those grandparents had survived that era, only to be caught up—along with his parents—in a much later Dungeon Stampede, where they lost their lives.
“Obviously I am apologizing! Irselia! What kind of attitude is that toward the people who saved our lives!? And you too, Nanami! Why did you start by talking business first!? Wasn’t there something you should have done before that!?”
Kagurazaka Chizuru’s voice, shouted while maintaining a perfect dogeza, was incredibly loud.
By this point, Tooru was thoroughly fed up. The anger he’d felt just moments ago had completely dissipated. Seeing a woman prostrating herself before him in real life, right in front of his eyes, was—how should he put it—not a pleasant feeling at all.
“Hayasaka-sama, I am truly sorry! This may sound like an excuse, but I assumed that we already had your consent to stream the meeting. I never imagined it was only approved after the fact… And even today, when you came all this way for us, to treat you with such discourtesy! If I could die of shame, I would have already stopped breathing! I would like nothing more than to cut open my own belly in apology, but I have sworn to use my life for the sake of the people of this nation. This dogeza may be cheap, but at the very least, please allow me to convey my remorse! I cannot spill my guts, but if there is anything I can do, I beg you—command me!”
Her enunciation was flawless, her voice projected from the gut, and as a result, the samurai-girl’s apology echoed throughout the first-floor lobby of the luxury hotel.
“Uh… Kagurazaka-san, right? Sorry, but could you stand up?”
“I am terribly sorry, Hayasaka-sama. But I simply cannot refrain from apologizing. My colleague behaved in such a manner toward the person who saved our lives… such—such an outrage!”
“No, it’s just that you’re way too loud. Everyone’s staring. I look like some guy making a woman dogeza in front of him. Just stand up. Seriously.”
This time, it wasn’t anger so much as exasperation, and Tooru’s tone turned rough. It had become stupid to bother choosing his words carefully.
“Hah! You’re quite right—my deepest apolo—ah…!”
Taking his words to heart, Chizuru sprang to her feet, finally realizing how loud she’d been. She clapped a hand over her mouth mid-apology.
“Um… I’m very sorry. I seem to be… somewhat out of step with ordinary sensibilities. The viewers apparently find it amusing, though…”
“It’s fine. I got the apology.”
“I am most grateful. Once again, I have caused you great trouble, Hayasaka-sama. We should have been expressing our gratitude, yet instead we caused you discomfort… I am truly sorry.”
Kagurazaka Chizuru bent crisply at the waist and bowed her head.
Indeed, by modern standards, she really was a bit off.
Tooru still had no idea why she kept calling him Hayasaka-sama, which honestly made him a little uneasy—but compared to the elf and the manager, her likability score had risen, relatively speaking.
“So… that’s enough already.”
Whether or not Chizuru caught the unspoken meaning—that Tooru didn’t really care—was unclear, but she lifted her head, broke eye contact with him for a moment, and then glared sharply at Nanami before speaking.
“What are you doing, Nanami? Fulfill the promise. That should come first.”
“…Ah, y-yes! My apologies…! And about the stream… I’m terribly sorry it was only we only got after-the-fact consent. I’m not making excuses—I haven’t forgotten the promise I made to you, Hayasaka-san. The redemption value for the magic core and dragon scale has already been calculated, so if you provide the transfer ID, we can pay immediately.”
“Got it.”
Tooru exhaled and sat back down, pulling his device from his pocket and displaying the barcode for his personal ID number.
The ID was linked to his bank account and the national tax database, allowing for automatic handling of taxes related to financial transactions. Before the world fusion, in the previous century, year-end adjustments and income tax returns were required—but now that dungeon-produced goods had become central to the economy, the government had devised this system to collect taxes efficiently.
For someone from Tooru’s generation—accustomed to the new world—it was completely normal, though those familiar with old practices might call it “convenient, inconvenient, and irritating.” Apparently, some deductions still had to be filed at the end of the year.
Putting that aside,
Nanami slid her device across the table to match Tooru’s, completing the data transfer. When he checked, about 16,700,000 yen1 had been deposited in his account.
“……”
Sixteen million seven hundred thousand.
Nanami carried out the payment as if it were nothing. The elf still looked at him with clear disdain. Tia glanced at him, slightly worried, and Chizuru nodded as if it were only natural.
Tooru was the only one stirred by the sheer size of the sum.
“Of course, that’s after all applicable taxes. And… sorry for jumping ahead, but if you check the license section on the device, you’ll see we’ve issued a temporary explorer’s permit. With the Dungeon Agency’s approval, if you accompany the exploration this time, return the magic cores to the dungeon branch, you’ll be officially granted a D-rank explorer license. Profits from the exploration will be split 50/50 between Anthem and Hayasaka-san, and a separate reward for this accompaniment will also be paid. It won’t match the value of the magic cores and dragon scale exactly, but…”
“Ah… thank you.”
Tooru’s response was casual, given how unexpected the situation was.
But thinking about it, it made perfect sense.
Even though he and Tia had killed the dragon and black knight, letting an unlicensed person accompany them into the mid-layers or beyond could damage Anthem’s reputation—or, more bluntly, it would be a crime. A state-supported explorer clan couldn’t legally let that happen.
As far as Tooru knew, only if a minor is accompanied by a licensed guide-explorer can a non-explorer enter a dungeon and fight monsters—though he admitted he might be missing some details.
The fact that a temporary license had been issued on the very same day reeked of collusion with authority—connections would be the more accurate word here—but in the end, it probably just meant they used whatever connections they had.
They lived in a different world.
They had probably never even imagined that their attitude could anger Tooru. People like them lived with the assumption that ordinary folks would be happy to cooperate with them… and from that kind of worldview, nothing he said from the bottom-tier perspective would ever get through.
Tooru let out a sigh.
“Alright. For now, this’ll keep me from worrying about day-to-day living for a while, and you even got me a license. Worst case, I can just have her hunt monsters and live off that. If you’re fine bringing along a bottom-tier cleaner who’s lower than a worker ant, I’ll come with you.”
“So I hunt monsters and feed you, Tooru? I don’t mind at all, you know?”
“Thank you very much! Then, regarding the precautions for the stream—”
“Hey. Cut out that self-deprecating attitude.”
“Hayasaka-sama! It would be a great honor to explore the dungeon together with you!”
“…Could you all stop talking at once?”
Tooru sighed again.
There were plenty of other things he wanted to spit out—but he didn’t.
◇◇◇
After going over the streaming guidelines, the members of Anthem who had been staying on the upper floors of the hotel came down one by one to introduce themselves.
The leader, Saitou Megumi, again expressed her gratitude to Tooru and Tia for helping them in the dungeon, bowing politely while asking for their cooperation this time. Tooru got the impression of a high school tennis club captain—though he acknowledged that might be a bias.
Midou Airi, the healer known as “the Saint” in the stream, hadn’t fully realized what had happened when Tooru and Tia rescued them, having been unconscious at the time, but she still offered her thanks in a calm, composed way. Tooru’s impression: a quiet, gentle girl.
Then there was Shinguu Sanagi, the camera operator. Her voice was extremely small, and from Tooru’s perspective, she just seemed like someone who bowed repeatedly with great humility. With her straight-cut black bangs, she reminded him a little of a kokeshi doll. Megumi explained that she was “thanking him,” but Tooru didn’t really care either way.
The team for this exploration would therefore be these three—Megumi, Airi, and Sanagi—joined by the swordswoman Chizuru Kagurazaka, the high-class S-rank elf Irselia Lumiester, and Tooru himself (the “workplace bro”) and Tia, the dragon-slaying swordswoman, would also accompany them. Manager Nanami Hamamatsu would stay outside the dungeon, handling the stream and giving instructions in real time if needed.
Tooru was the kind of person who held grudges to some extent, but he disliked flaunting bad moods and causing stress to others. He had shown anger, but after saying “It’s fine already” to Chizuru’s dogeza, expressing discontent further felt wrong. So he simply responded normally.
Yet his impression of the Anthem members was… oddly youthful.
They were likely his age or a year younger, but they felt inexperienced, naïve.
Not naïve in the sense of being stupid—Tooru could hardly claim that—but rather, completely free of malice.
Megumi seemed a little bad at handling Tooru, but also subtly apologetic about that. He understood; even meeting a small-time thug for the first time, it was natural to feel cautious. Looking down or expressing disdain? Totally understandable. It made sense.
Yet they showed no condescension toward him.
Hamamatsu Nanami did.
Irselia did too, but it wasn’t personal—she seemed to judge humanity as a whole rather than him specifically. In hindsight, Tia’s words might be right: that’s just how elves are.
…That said, Tooru was also this kind of person, so even if he had calmed down, he would have shot back if directly challenged.
So far, he didn’t feel particularly fond of them—but at least… he could see the logic. They didn’t belittle their audience either, which is why they could be idol explorers.
“Just to confirm… ‘Anthem’ is an all-girl clan, right? Is it really okay for someone like me to tag along for the stream?”
Nanami didn’t hesitate.
“Of course. If we suddenly collabed with other male streamers, there might be some backlash, but you and Tia are the saviors of Anthem… Well, I don’t know if you realize it, but currently you two are attracting a lot of attention online. Viewers are bound to have questions for you during the stream.”
“Haah…”
“You don’t need to answer everything, but just respond to the questions you can. For this stream, resolving the audience’s curiosity is more important than the fact that you’re collaborating with Anthem.”
Her tone had that bureaucratic rigidity, so Tooru as an ordinary person couldn’t really find a liking for Nanami.
“So… basically, everyone’s just really curious about stuff,” Megumi Saitou, always giving off a bright, energetic vibe, chipped in with a small smile that somehow seemed burdened. From Tooru’s perspective, her appearance and attitude were entirely misleading—but that was just his bias.
“Also, it’s important to verify the mutation of the formerly B-rank Kamioka Dungeon. As for that swordswoman, I can expect her to handle herself… but as for your skills, I don’t. During combat, stay behind Sanagi and keep a low profile,” Irselia said, not even bothering to hide the barb.
Tooru didn’t feel anger at all—he’d already said “enough” earlier, and more importantly, he’d been paid. The elf just sounded like a dog barking, nothing more. If she were right up in his ear, sure, that would be annoying—but half a step back, it was clear she was just telling him to hang back, not to be a meat shield. A real entitled power-wielder might have said the latter—like that scandalized politician currently trending online.
After all, as of yesterday, Tooru had been a cleaner below D-rank. Before getting the Holy Sword and the Cursed Blade, his only option had been to run from black ogres.
Now, however—probably—it was fine.
He had this strange, quiet confidence that against that black ogre, there wouldn’t even be a need to use Kagetsu.
“Hayasaka-sama, it’s not a difficult matter. Megumi will mostly lead the stream, and I will assist you as much as I can,” said Chizuru Kamurazaka, naturally, with that formal tone that made Tooru feel a little off. Somehow, the members of this idol-explorer clan were attaching honorifics to a bottom-tier cleaner like him.
“Uh… can you not call me ‘Hayasaka-sama’?”
“Wh—Why is that?” Chizuru blinked in utter confusion. Megumi and Nanami exchanged awkward looks, while Irselia, for some reason, shot Tooru a look of contempt.
“It’s just… if someone with fans calls a guy like me ‘sama,’ the fans aren’t gonna feel good about it. And honestly, it makes me uncomfortable too.”
“Then… how should I address you…?”
“Well… usually, if you’re talking to someone you’re not that close to, you just attach ‘-san’ to the last name, right?”
“But… can’t we just call you Tooru? That’s not okay?” Tia tilted her head in curiosity.
Chizuru hesitated for a moment before finally compromising:
“Then… Tooru-dono…”
Tooru felt like he’d already had enough. He’d agreed to accompany them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stick around longer than necessary.
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