How to Survive as a Dungeon Manager in Another World

Episode 1 – I Became a Labyrinth Manager

Drifting through the internet, as one does when lacking for occupation, you’ve likely stumbled upon certain types of keywords.

Demon-haunted locales.

The World’s Thirteen Great Labyrinths.

Cliffs of Death.

Places from which one never emerges whole.

Or, perhaps, driven utterly mad for reasons unknown.

Bearing the moniker of the most horrific places in the world, they command the attention of countless souls.

And just the day before yesterday, it was.

The commonplace novel I was reading before sleep also featured such a place, as fate would have it.

＜Blackmoor＞

One of the Empire’s Three Great Suicide Spots.

A hinterland boasting an overwhelming degree of danger.

A lawless zone where entities beyond reckoning lie in wait.

I know it well.

That each and every one of these epithets is damned, at the very least.

But, I could offer no rebuttal to those damned titles.

The reason being…

“Shit.”

… I had become the manager of that damned labyrinth.

An unfamiliar ceiling.

A canopy embroidered with meticulous detail, curtains shimmering with a faint gold luster, and fine furniture crafted by the hands of a master artisan.

When I opened my eyes one day, I found myself in an unfamiliar place.

The face reflected in the mirror was also a stranger.

This wasn’t exactly a strange occurrence.

After all, I’d been transmigrated into the world of a novel.

How do I know, you ask? Well, today marks a year since I was bound into the heart of this novel.

It’s time to accept it now, I suppose.

That this is reality, not a dream.

The small mercy was this: the situation, after my observation, wasn’t entirely dire.

‘Handsome, isn’t he.’

At least the appearance was an improvement over my former life.

Not just an improvement, but overwhelmingly so.

‘Young too.’

Barely twenty.

The very image of verdant youth I’d always craved.

‘Not bad?’

If this was possession, it wouldn’t be so terrible.

Compared to the trash existence I’d lived under gambler parents in my past life, at least my fate had taken a turn for the better.

‘A Count’s household isn’t bad either.’

Though my illegitimate birth rendered me a cold meal within the mansion walls, I didn’t particularly care.

A family that was merely a shell could be abandoned easily enough.

What attachment could I possibly have to the family of a minor extra in a novel I’d only read for a few days?

What I needed was a plan.

A plan for the future, for what I would do to make a living after fleeing this mansion.

‘A profession is key.’

How easy of a life could I possibly live?

Ninety percent of that depended on the profession.

I didn’t particularly want to get entangled in the main episodes of the novel.

But neither did I have an excessive desire for wealth.

All I desired, really, were two things.

To be able to leave the mansion immediately.

And at the same time, a profession that guaranteed a stable retirement.

I reviewed it countless times.

In the end, the conclusion was always the same.

Officialdom.

The civil service, if you will.

That very day, I left the mansion and headed for the Academy.

To complete the five-year education necessary to enter the ranks of the Imperial bureaucracy.

Five years flowed by, just so.

As planned, I completed my studies with honors.

And finally, I entered the long-desired officialdom.

“Luke Richter.”

The Imperial Chancellor, seated in his place.

The position he, after careful deliberation, bestowed upon me was…

“I hereby grant you the office of Regional Administrator.”

Regional Administrator.

An office overseeing the security and administration of a specific region.

Security and administration in name only, one might say. Just an office where you suck honey at your leisure and while away the hours.

‘Finally…!’

I did it.

At least I’m achieving my dream of being a civil servant, one that I couldn’t achieve in my previous life.

“The region to which you shall be dispatched is…”

I sat quietly, awaiting the words that would follow.

Surely, he would lead me to a land flowing with milk and honey.

I waited with unwavering belief, but…

“Blackmoore.”

Pardon?

“Did you not hear? I said Blackmoore.”

Blackmoore?

Did I hear correctly?

“Chancellor? To my knowledge, there is only one Blackmoore in the Empire…”

“I regret to inform you, that is indeed the place of which you are aware.”

“…Huh?”

Hold on a moment.

That place flows not with milk and honey, but with dung and diarrhea.

And this is the first I’ve heard of there even being a managerial position there?

“The post has been vacant for some time, so we shall forego the handover process.”

“No, please, just one more moment of reconsideration…!!”

“Do not forget that your actions are of utmost importance, as this is a management position unlike any that existed before.”

“Pardon? Why entrust such a vital task to me, of all people?”

“Huhu, let us discuss the specifics and the logistical support right here and now.”

*Just what is this lunatic babbling about?*

“I assure you, this will be a most valuable experience for you.”

The Chancellor, having said his piece, immediately launched into a detailed recitation of my work schedule.

Perhaps, he had been waiting for this day from the very beginning.

And so, as the Chancellor’s drivel came to an end…

I became the one and only Suicide Spot Manager of the Empire.

And then.

My first day on the job.

“…”

Stepping out of the carriage ‘personally’ prepared by the Imperial Family, I surveyed my surroundings, as was my habit.

Forest to the front.

Forest to the rear.

An occasional, unsettling noise, trees looming overhead and blocking out the sun, not to mention the creepy-looking flora lurking everywhere.

“Shit.”

The atmosphere, where one could easily imagine someone dying at any moment, made me grimace.

Utterly damnable.

And the situation was made even worse by the fact that I had truly become the manager of this place.

“I’m supposed to live here…?”

I stared blankly, lost in thought.

The current situation was, to put it mildly, hopeless.

Blackmoor was as bleak and desolate as described in the novels.

Let me state unequivocally: this is absolutely not a place where an ordinary person could live.

*Is there even a house?*

Fortunately, there’s an office.

The Imperial Family must have put some thought into it, at least.

*And there seems to be enough food, for now.*

Supplies are adequate.

Clothing and daily necessities were promised to be provided regularly each month by the Imperial Family.

“…Perhaps it’s more bearable than I thought?”

Food, clothing, and shelter, at least, were settled.

However, *only* food, clothing, and shelter were settled.

Blackmore. What sort of place was it?

A wretched backwater befitting its ill repute.

Named villains lurking in every shadowed corner.

And, each year, aspiring suicide candidates crawled in, seeking to end their lives.

This was a fact readily apparent even from the original work’s description of Blackmore.

But now.

They were telling *me* to manage this forsaken place?

Alone?

This pandemonium?

How, in heavens name?

After roughly grasping my current circumstances, my conclusion was as follows:

“There’s no hope.”

Seriously, was this even a situation a sane person could accept?

They refused to supplement the manpower, but couldn’t go against the Emperor’s decree either.

So, the solution they arrived at was ultimately this –planting me as a so-called manager in the heart of this demonic realm.

“Haaa…”

…I feel faint.

Well, still, it is nice not to have pesky people bothering me.

After languidly lamenting my fate, I rose from my seat.

In any case, the Imperial Family had officially appointed me as the manager of Blackmore.

And considering that, I couldn’t exactly rebel against the Imperial will, proclaiming I couldn’t handle it.

“I don’t even know anymore.”

Blackmore was a demonic realm located at the border between the Empire and the Principality of Winfred.

Being the backwoods of the backwoods, the salary was quite high, and, additionally, there weren’t any irritating fellows around.

Which meant, in other words…

With a knack for clever idleness, for merely bleeding away the hours, one could, in theory, cultivate a semblance of peaceful routine.

Well, somehow it’ll work out.

Who knows?

Perhaps I’ll even find myself adapting to life here with surprising ease.

And a few days hence.

“…”

I found myself, yet again, walled away inside the office, whiling away the day.

Always gazing at the same unchanging view outside the window.

Of course, I couldn’t continue to merely mark time like this indefinitely.

At least, when it came to reporting to the Imperial Court, I’d have to present something that at least possessed a veneer of plausibility.

“Suppose I should get moving.”

I unfurled the map given to me by the Chancellor.

Blackmoor, divided into a total of five districts, spread out before my eyes.

The district to oversee today was ‘Calbaron,’ situated on the northern edge of Blackmoor.

A district bearing a rather menacing epithet: the Cliff of Death.

The reason for choosing Calbaron was simple enough.

Of all the districts, it was the closest.

What special task could there be in this management and oversight?

Simply to wander about, confirming that no particular problems existed.

Frankly, it wouldn’t take long.

I intended to skim the vicinity and return.

“…A rather grim atmosphere, wouldn’t you say?”

With this brief observation, I began to tirelessly walk.

Having been here but a few days, even this shudder-inducing landscape already felt somewhat familiar.

The path ahead was arduous, but posed no great difficulty.

In that time, I’d managed to familiarize myself with the nearby terrain to a certain extent.

How long had I been walking like this?

Passing through the thickly laid fog, I approached my destination.

“Hoo.”

Calbaron.

At long last, the destination was reached.

But, there was a problem.

“……?”

Silver hair, spun like sugar melted and pulled.

Pale grey eyes, reminiscent of volcanic ash.

Unreal features and a face utterly crushed, as if the world had been lost.

“A woman…?”

What is this?

I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Something that shouldn’t be at the edge of the cliff.

“Why is a woman here…”

The style of her clothing, clearly a noble lady from a well-to-do family.

And this place is the Empire’s foremost Demon Realm.

A completely incongruous pairing.

Except for one possibility.

“Huh?”

Wait a moment.

Could it be that now…?!

“…!!”

No sooner had the thought formed, than the girl, who had been standing stock-still, began to move.

“Uh-oh? Uh-oh-oh-oh-oh??”

Her direction, the edge of the cliff.

The precipice.