How to Survive as a Dungeon Manager in Another World

Episode 4 – Are You a Good Swimmer?

Blackmoore, the Demonic Wasteland.

A place where villains of the most heinous sort, wanted criminals with bounties on their heads, and monsters cast out from society hide away, clinging to life.

They say that once you enter, you never leave in one piece. In truth, it’s more akin to a grave.

The region itself is vast, proper information scarce. So, naturally, all sorts of ridiculous rumors regarding Blackmoore circulate from mouth to mouth, spreading throughout the Empire.

That forgotten beings, the stuff of myth, dwell there.

That unspeakable, horrific abominations have consumed Blackmoore.

Or perhaps, that untold fortunes lie buried in every corner.

Each claim, a phrase crafted to ignite human curiosity.

And, in truth, the place lived up to its name, a wasteland demonic.

On account of this, Blackmoore was a constant thorn in the Emperor’s side.

To simply ignore it would tarnish the Empire’s honor, yet to intervene came with insurmountable risks and costs.

Then, as if on cue, the Emperor declared his stance.

With a single sentence, Blackmoore would be officially recognized as Imperial territory.

The statement, the Imperial family’s resolve that Blackmoore could no longer be left unattended.

But.

“I simply cannot comprehend it.”

“What is it you do not understand?”

The Imperial Palace, the Emperor’s chambers.

Two men sat across from one another, sipping tea in conversation.

The man in military attire sighed softly before continuing.

“I heard that a single administrator was dispatched.”

“….”

“Luke Richter, a greenhorn barely out of his robes.”

The Prime Minister, who had been listening in silence, nodded.

It was he, after all, who had personally sent him to Blackmoore. His reaction was only natural.

“This is Blackmoore, mind you.”

“I am aware.”

“Even the Knights of the Special Forces or the Holy Order cannot handle Blackmoore, can they?”

“Indeed.”

*Clack!*

The man, having finished speaking, set down his teacup.

His expression was, shall we say, rather intense.

“Hoo.”

He exhaled a short breath after his pronouncement.

And lowered his voice, heavy with gravity.

“It must be withdrawn immediately.”

“And why do you deem that to be so?”

“To a place that demands a substantial force for even basic oversight, to send a mere single person – and a newly arrived subordinate at that – what possible good could it do?”

A valid counter-argument, that.

Blackmoore was a place the Imperial family itself had abandoned long ago.

To assign a fledgling official to a position overseeing such a place…

It was, in essence, like sending a hale and hearty youth to his death.

But.

“He wouldn’t be able to accomplish much. If he were a ‘normal’ subordinate, that is.”

“…?”

Luke Richter.

The second son, and b*stard, of the Richter Earldom.

He graduated the Academy with commendable marks, certainly, but possessed no other particularly noteworthy qualities.

Yet, His Excellency the Chancellor’s expression was decidedly earnest.

A face utterly devoid of any doubt regarding his judgment.

Strange.

Something was amiss.

“He’s… not a typical noble scion?”

Thus, I inquired.

I could scarcely contain myself.

I posed the question and slowly scrutinized His Excellency the Chancellor’s face.

He, with an indifferent countenance, continued to sip his tea.

And slowly.

Very slowly.

“…”

Nodded.

Without any explanation, simply nodded.

As if more than that couldn’t be answered.

“…Huh.”

With that, it ended.

Caw! Caw! Screech!

I sat blankly, gazing out the window.

Beyond the window, a doll-like beautiful girl held a dagger in one hand, hunting the mana beasts.

With a smile as clear as a child who had found a new toy.

‘…Can that even be called hunting?’

Perhaps not.

A one-sided butchery, or perhaps a massacre.

‘Is it two days now?’

Two days.

It had already been two days since the day I first met Rudine.

I slowly traced back my memories.

Calling me her savior, she had followed me around so persistently.

Despite repeated attempts to dissuade her, she stubbornly trailed behind me, finally following me all the way to my office.

The result of which is right now.

Rudine, having recognized this place as her home, began hunting… no, butchering, all the mana beasts that approached from a certain point.

“……”

Rudine’s eyes met mine.

Her face covered in blood, she looked at me and smiled brightly.

A smile as if seeking praise.

That image was like…

‘…Couldn’t ask for a better guard dog.’

Avoiding her beaming smile, I sank into thought.

Honestly, it’s convenient.

She doesn’t exactly overstep boundaries, doesn’t show any hostility, and what’s more, she guards the house well.

Even now, her intent remained an enigma, yet thus far, I could find no real fault with her.

‘What to do with this one…’

Born under a cursed star, she possesses a nature that thirsts for blood.

Which is to say, the act of rending, cleaving, and slicing living things satiates her hunger and quench her thirst.

In essence, she was born inherently wicked.

It is not something that can be cured.

It is an innate trait etched into her very soul.

Not a disease to be healed, for how could it be?

Some would call it a curse.

But is it truly a curse?

‘It’s a talent.’

Her nature, so exquisitely tailored for carnage, is not a curse but a talent.

At least, here in Blackmore, that is.

There is a reason the protagonist of the original tale braved the perils to seek her out, all the way to Blackmore, to recruit her.

Let’s consider.

Though I have become the caretaker here, that does not mean I must rot in this place for all eternity.

The empire’s regional administrators are assigned new postings every five years.

‘Just five years to endure.’

Five years.

A long time, perhaps, but not unendurable.

It is too late to drive her out now, in any case.

She is not the sort to listen to mere words, nor am I capable of forcing her out by strength.

Therefore, only one choice remains.

‘Charm Offensive.’

Honestly, it shouldn’t be difficult.

She already considers me a benefactor.

‘Promising, isn’t it?’

The house is well guarded. More hands to help.

With her assistance, even exploring the labyrinth should not be difficult.

If you cannot avoid it, they say, then enjoy it?

“Yes, one simply enjoys it.”

There was no need to fret over such a matter.

A short while later.

“Luke?”

She finished a perfunctory washing-up and returned to the office.

Her eyes, round and wide, fixed on me as she inquired,

“What are you doing?”

“Work. You can lend a hand.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’ll feed you when this is finished.”

Her dove-grey irises shimmered, like jewels catching the light.

My proposition had piqued her interest.

She settled demurely into her seat, asking in a voice tinged with excitement,

“What sort of work?”

“Making signs.”

“…?”

A slight tilt of the head.

She cocked her head, her expression utterly perplexed.

“Signs?”

“Yes.”

“But why are you making signs?”

“I told you. It’s work.”

“???”

Her eyes blinked at my reply.

Still, she didn’t comprehend my answer.

“You know this place is a suicide hotspot, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And this is my workplace, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So, if people keep killing themselves here, every moment of every day… what do you think that does to my position?”

Correct.

Becomes damned troublesome.

Especially if there’s a noble in the mix. All the more so.

“You know how to speak Imperial?”

“…Don’t underestimate me.”

“Then that settles it. Here, take this brush, just transcribe the phrase I dictate onto the sign. Easy, right?”

I deftly passed the sign and brush to her.

Preparations complete.

“Now, just copy exactly what I say.”

“Mm.”

I spoke, and Ludine transcribed.

A simple, repetitive task, truly.

However.

“…?”

A question mark bloomed on Ludine’s face as she copied the words.

As if, deeply bewildered.

Thud, thud.

Rustle.

“Quiet, isn’t it?”

The girl murmured as she walked.

Blackmoor was, as she expected, a wilderness untouched by human trace.

“…”

She walked.

Without destination, without direction.

Having come to die from the start, how could there be such things?

“Haa… haa…”

Her steps grew heavier, her breath more labored.

There were moments she nearly tripped on stones, but she continued, one step, one step, without the slightest change in expression.

A faint, piercing stench tickled her nose.

The dead trees stood, packed tight as teeth.

Ominous and bleak, like her own future stretched out before her.

Then, it struck her.

“…A sign?”

Far off, a signpost came into view.

Inscribed with words of some kind; undoubtedly a marker, deliberately planted.

What is it?

Why would there be a sign in a place like this?

Slowly, she approached.

And, head bowed, she made out the inscription.

[ You Are Not Alone. ]

“???”

What?

Not alone?

Could someone actually be nearby?

“…!”

*Whish, whish!*

She scanned her surroundings, but saw no trace of anyone.

And that wasn’t all.

As if measured with a ruler, more signs stood firmly planted at regular intervals.

“What is this?”

She couldn’t suppress her curiosity.

And so, she moved in the direction of the signs.

To read each and every inscription for herself.

[ Stop! ]

She froze.

Is it talking to me?

[ Where Are You Going? ]

What?

This is unnerving.

[ You are a precious person. ]

???

Out of the blue?

“……”

My mood sours.

As if the gloom hanging over me wasn’t enough, this ridiculous sign grates on my nerves.

And yet, even so, I couldn’t quell my curiosity.

How long did I walk like that?

In the distance, a sheer cliff face began to emerge.

Whoosh.

A dizzying precipice.

Beyond it, the vast ocean unfurled.

And.

At the edge of the precarious cliff stood the final sign.

Its message.

[ Are you a good swimmer? ]

Crack—!

The sign shattered under the girl’s kick.