How to Survive as a Dungeon Manager in Another World

Episode 20 – Banishment of Guests

After sending the two off, I swallowed a sigh of relief.

*‘That was a close one.’*

The memory of the ceiling suddenly collapsing just moments ago flashed through my mind, and beads of cold sweat immediately broke out.

Everything had been flowing so smoothly; it was just my luck that things would unravel at the very end.

If an accident had occurred there, all my efforts would have been rendered utterly useless.

Regardless, the immediate crisis at hand has been resolved, more or less.

I exerted myself to the fullest extent to show respect and courtesy. The report, prepared with thorough care, was also flawless.

Having appealed to them with such fervent dedication and sincerity, they would be bordering on lunacy to give me a negative evaluation. The initial impression should be enough.

“Hmph.”

I sank back into my chair, lost in contemplation.

The immediate crisis had passed, but it was too soon to breathe easy.

As the manager of this blasted demon realm, I had to survive, come what may, for at least five years.

“The future is what matters…”

My top priority, now and always, is a comfortable survival.

This, at least, had never wavered since the first day of my possession.

This place is within the world of a novel.

A romance fantasy, to be precise.

Normally, the characters would be too busy with their love lives, but the reason I, an extra, have to worry about survival is simple. This novel was a dark fantasy masquerading as a ropan.

Regardless of genre, there were always works like this.

Even amidst a flood of tired, mass-produced stories, there existed those renegade works that twisted every cliche.

The novel I was possessed into was exactly that kind.

The fate of the world is the protagonist’s problem; no need to worry about that.

But by the time the protagonist appears, Blackmoore will already be in ruins. That was the problem.

The biggest problem of all.

‘The Seeds of the End.’

There are seven in total who harbor these Seeds of the End.

They are scattered across the continent, and according to the original story, a whopping three of them gather in Blackmoore.

Fortunately, I no longer have to worry about Rudine, the third Seed…

‘It’s the other two that are the problem.’

I clicked my tongue and furrowed my brow.

And once again, I fell into agonizing thought.

Not just anyone, but the Seeds of the End themselves.

As their name implies, they are beings perfectly befitting the title of “End.”

The fact that two of those calamitous b*stards were hiding in Blackmoore was a critical matter that could not be overlooked.

‘I can’t just stand by and watch this happen.’

Blackmoore is not just a demon realm.

It is a den of monsters and death where the End takes root.

At the same time, it was also an arena where countless interests were fiercely intertwined.

Even though they are currently dormant, once the Seeds of the End corrupt, there is no stopping them, and that was something that absolutely had to be avoided.

Especially since this is my jurisdiction, the place where I have to survive for the next five years.

Thankfully, there was still a margin of time.

Before the protagonist began their activities in earnest, this was the sole opportunity to react before they were irrevocably tainted.

The result, inevitably, was collecting the very finest caliber of ticking bombs in the world, but what choice did one have?

It was a necessary selection, for the preservation of a comfortable life as a civil servant.

‘Then, the priorities are settled.’

Collect the dooms.

And reform them.

“First, the names…”

Two seeds lay hidden within this place.

The Turncoat, Euthenia.

And.

The Corrupted Cleric, Elfriede Trivia.

‘…Alas, Euthenia’s location remains unknown.’

Elfriede was the only one whose whereabouts were even vaguely known.

Though even those were but rudimentary pieces of information, Elfriede at least, fell towards the easier end of the spectrum.

Having settled my thoughts, I called out to the man standing by the door.

“Balkan.”

“You summoned?”

Balkan Kast.

The Chief Executor belonging to the Archon Council, who promptly bowed his head in response.

I gestured for him to approach.

After a moment of hesitation, Balkan crept forward, cautiously taking a seat on the opposite chair.

“I have a few questions for you.”

“I am listening.”

“How deep have you ventured inside?”

“…Into Blackmore, you mean?”

A nod.

I recalled that Executive Agents belonging to the main council, by virtue of the organization’s nature, were expected to traverse the darkest corners of the Demonic Boundaries.

“I have not ventured to any great depth.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye, the districts beyond the border, even amongst the western sectors, are controlled with an iron fist, you see.”

The border… He meant Kalmash.

A district where light dared not touch, the boundary where chaos began its reign.

Some say it was a line drawn long ago by the Elves, beyond which lurked horrors far removed from common beasts.

“Have you ever ventured near?”

“Aye, just the once.”

“And you recall the path?”

“…I have a rough memory, yes.”

His answer lacked conviction, but knowing the path at all was enough.

“How far is it?”

“Roughly a week’s journey, I reckon.”

A week?

Longer than I anticipated.

“Is there no faster route?”

“…There is a way, perhaps.”

“And that is?”

He hesitated, gauging my reaction before continuing.

“One could pass through Main Assembly.”

“And how many days would that take?”

“A single day, that would.”

That was it.

Only after hearing his definitive answer did I rise.

And without delay, I spoke plainly.

“I require a guide.”

Westmarch, one could feign navigating with some semblance of accuracy, but Kalmash was a different matter altogether.

The deepest part of Blackmore, a region unknown even at its edges – a guide was essential.

Meeting Elfriede was not a venture worth risking one’s life, but without proper guidance, reaching my destination could take days, perhaps many.

“Surely, you wouldn’t consider crossing the border, would you?”

“Well, a little, perhaps?”

“…”

He widened his eyes, circles of startled dark.

A gaze that held the glint of one observing madness.

Meanwhile.

“Derek Baldwin?”

A woman, facing the man, offered a smile rife with worldly delight.

Selena Lugrithe, the woman, stood revealed.

The principal of the Empire’s foremost academy, and the Vice-Tower Master of the Crimson Magic Tower.

“What brings our esteemed Special Operations Commander so far afield?”

She spoke, a wicked curve to her lips.

Much like the academy and the Special Operations Unit shared close ties, so too did they know each other well.

In a manner… quite amicable.

“It’s been a while.”

“Indeed, a long time. To come all this way in person, it must be urgent, no?”

Her words struck true.

Information was needed, regarding Luke Richter.

Yet, strangely enough, his past was pristine.

As if someone, from behind the scenes, had actively scrubbed it clean.

The only remaining record: five years of academy completion.

But even that felt suspiciously ordinary, almost too perfectly so.

It stirred a faint feeling of deja vu.

Thus, he had come in person.

His intent: to press the principal, to pry and unearth what he could about Luke Richter.

“Shameless, aren’t you? Ignoring every single message I sent, without so much as a peep.”

“I was busy.”

“Oh, were you? Well, *I’m* busy too, so be a dear and show yourself out, will you?”

“…Your words carry thorns.”

“At least you have the wit to notice.”

Derek clicked his tongue inwardly at her response, his gaze unwavering.

As ever, a difficult woman.

He opened his mouth, thinking so.

“I have something to ask.”

“Oh? Ask away. Of course, don’t expect an answer, mind you.”

“Drop the jest.”

“Ha.”

At that, Selena laughed as if she were at her wit’s end.

“Jest? Do my words sound like a jest?”

She let out a hollow laugh, as if weary.

“Do you think you’ve entrusted something to me? Waking up and demanding answers, as if I’m obligated to respond?”

“Then let’s make a bargain.”

“…A bargain?”

At those words, a flicker of interest sparked in Selena’s eyes.

“Tell me more.”

“I’ll see that you receive a Quietstone.”

“What?”

Quietstone.

A rare ore found in the corpses of Third-Rank mana beasts.

The only ore capable of conducting mana, a material the Mage Tower holds most dear for research.

“…You’re giving me a Quietstone?”

“I’ll hear your answer first.”

“You must be serious? Fine. It’s a more than worthy deal. Ask whatever you will. I shall answer to the best of my ability.”

Selena’s eyes gleamed.

Seeing that, Derek sighed, then voiced the main point.

“I need information about a student.”

“A current student?”

“No, he graduated last year.”

“Oh? His name?”

She asked, sipping her tea.

Derek parted his lips, and uttered.

“Luke Richter.”

“…What?”

For a heartbeat, Selena’s thoughts froze.

She had been lost in blissful fantasies of plucking the Earstone, and now wore a vacant expression.

“…Who?”

“Luke Richter.”

Derek’s words.

Selena slammed her teacup onto the desk with a sharp *clink*, her face draining of color as she abruptly unleashed her magic.

*Gooong…*

It wasn’t a spell.

She had merely discharged her magic into the air.

A random, impulsive eruption of raw power.

Yet, with just that, a tremendous pressure began to bear down on the room.

As if an earthquake had struck, the floor, the desk, the objects within the room shuddered and rattled.

Selena’s face twisted into a mask of stark horror.

Her lips trembled in a peculiar way, the reaction of one who had heard something they should never have heard.

And then.

“Leave.”

She said, her voice shaking.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Leave.”

“…What?”

“Get out. Now.”

It was, without a doubt, a dismissal.