Beyond the Tenth Floor

"As you asked, I'll handle the interrogation of these fellows myself. So go on, kid — get some real rest already."

"Understood."

The Guild Master readily took charge of questioning the Hunter Party. With every remaining task settled, Jun rose from his seat as she had so insistently urged.

Mindful of the spy's eyes, he did not leave the Guild Master's office by the ordinary door. Instead he teleported back to the Appraisal Room — and Carol came with him. Extracting her had taken considerable effort; she had been ready to begin the interrogation on the spot. The hostility she harbored toward those people was anything but ordinary. Something involving them — more precisely, involving Demonic Humans — had clearly left its mark on her.

"I'm truly sorry for that unbecoming display."

Once the offenders were no longer in sight, her agitation seemed to settle. Carol apologized in a far calmer tone. Since she had committed no real breach of etiquette, Jun and his wives simply told her not to worry and offered what comfort they could.

"Thank you. Even so, I feel terribly remiss. As a token of apology, might I offer you a cup of tea…"

"Cak— mph!"

"It's fine. You really don't need to trouble yourself."

Jun clamped a hand over Fortuna's mouth before she could finish shouting for cake. Given her appetite, accepting an apology might well have ended with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them being the ones who owed one.

"More importantly — would you appraise this for me?"

Jun drew a single book from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dowonhyang and held it out to Carol. She recognized its origin at a glance; her eyes lit up as she spoke.

"My. So the reason for your return wasn't entirely a fabrication."

"That's right. Not an Easter egg — a clear reward from the tenth floor."

A truly excellent lie was always finished by weaving a thread of falsehood into a fabric of truth. If Carol appraised the book through the Appraisal Certificate and registered its data in the Guild's database, the information would reach the spy — and through the spy, the mastermind behind it all. That would lend their fabricated reason for returning just a little more weight.

"A clever idea. And the item that came out happens to be a book. Registering it in the database shouldn't raise any suspicion."

When an item recovered from a Labyrinth was appraised, its owner had to choose whether or not to register its information in the Guild's database. Registration meant the Guild formally recognized them as the item's rightful owner, and would actively assist in recovery should it ever be seized or stolen. Declining registration meant forgoing those benefits — but if one was careful, the information remained thoroughly concealed, and the risk of theft or robbery was nearly nonexistent. The advantages and drawbacks of each choice were clear, and adventurers decided according to temperament and circumstance.

That calculus, of course, applied mainly to items one would actually carry into a Labyrinth. With books, nearly everyone chose registration. When even an extra scrap of bread was precious, no one was about to haul an inedible book into a Labyrinth. A book had to be left on the surface no matter what — and no amount of precaution could reduce the chance of theft to absolute zero. For books, registration was not optional. It was mandatory.

Thank goodness it was a book.

Jun's abilities made him exceptionally good at concealing items. Registering anything other than a book in the database would have looked strange no matter how one spun it. A book, however, dispelled most of that suspicion. The odds of a book appearing as a Labyrinth reward were vanishingly small — and yet one had appeared. His luck was almost absurd. No doubt the Angel of Fortune at his side had something to do with it.

Jun smiled contentedly and gave the Angel of Fortune nestled in both his hands a thorough, affectionate petting.

"Heeung∼"

The Angel of Fortune, who had been biting his fingers in retaliation for the sudden mouth-clamping, squirmed in mock protest before melting into a limp puddle of bliss.

Meanwhile, Carol finished checking the book for any residual curses and read the title aloud.

"Multicore. Remarkably straightforward. When a title is this direct, the result is usually either a total bust or a jackpot. Which will it be for you, Jun?"

"The latter, almost certainly. Right, For?"

"Hmph! Obviously!"

"Heh. Is that so? Then shall we find out?"

With that, Carol set the book atop the Appraisal Certificate she had already prepared. The moment she channeled holy power into the certificate, both book and parchment were engulfed in pure white light.

"There we are. Here you go."

When the light faded a moment later, Carol slid the book aside and pushed the Appraisal Certificate across the table toward Jun without picking it up — leaving it face-up so he could read the results first. Touched by the courtesy, Jun thanked her, then lifted the certificate and examined the findings.

"…Should we sell it?"

"…That might be for the best."

Jun set the certificate down as he spoke, and Fortuna agreed with a distinctly sour expression. Dohwa and Rebecca nodded their assent as well.

"Just what kind of result produces a reaction like that?"

Carol asked, thoroughly puzzled. Ordinarily a poor result brought disappointment or outrage — yet their response was something else entirely. It looked for all the world as though they had just laid eyes on a cursed item with terrifying side effects.

Strange. I don't sense any of the unsettling aura that usually accompanies cursed items.

She double-checked just to be sure, but the result was the same. As she tilted her head in confusion, Jun passed her the certificate. Carol skimmed it quickly and nodded.

Most cursed items would have to step aside for this one.

"Whew∼. Yes, that reaction is entirely warranted. What will you do? If you wish to sell, the Guild will purchase it for coin or points. Inheritance is impossible, but if my memory serves, this is the first copy ever discovered — so the price should be quite respectable."

"Hmm… Since it's an aura technique, all of us could learn it in theory, but…"

Jun trailed off and looked to his wives. They wasted no time answering.

"I don't want to!"

"That the creator himself perished… It is far too dangerous."

"My love, I have no desire to become the four hundred forty-fourth fatality."

Every one of them said exactly what he had been thinking.

Could it not have been four hundred forty-two or less, or four hundred forty-five or more? Why four hundred forty-three of all numbers?

It felt as though the book itself were shouting: Limited-time offer! Learn this technique now and the monumental four hundred forty-fourth spot is yours!

If only it at least had Inheritance…

Inheritance. A blessing granted to only a vanishingly small fraction of the martial arts manuals, magic tomes, and skill books discovered in Labyrinths. Turn the first page of a book bearing that blessing, and — much like in a game — the volume would be absorbed into the body, allowing the technique within to be used immediately. Because it passed on the creator's own experience, it was an enormous help in learning and employing techniques that demanded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠high proficiency.

Especially in a case like Multicore, where the creator had died using the technique!

Enough. No point fretting over something that isn't there.

Jun shook his head to cast off the regret, then picked up the martial arts manual. He ran his fingers silently over the cover for a moment, then nodded as though he had reached a decision and stowed the book inside Dowonhyang.

"Jun! You're going to learn that dangerous-looking thing?!"

"I'm just going to read through it once for now."

When a book appeared as a reward, its contents were typically tailored to the person who received it. There were exceptions, of course, but in most cases the book suited at least one member of the party. From that perspective, Multicore's intended owner was almost certainly Jun.

Fortuna is the type who overwhelms with raw power — a control-specialized technique like Multicore doesn't suit her. Dohwa and Rebecca prefer mid- to long-range combat over close quarters, so a martial artist's technique doesn't fit them either, for different reasons.

No matter how he looked at it, Jun was the only one who could learn the technique. That left him no choice but to take the risk and try. In its own way, that made it exclusive — dedicated to him alone.

Can't turn down something exclusive.

Exclusive cars, exclusive houses, exclusive everything — the word "exclusive" was a siren song to a man's sense of ownership. If he had never known, it would have been different. But now that he knew it was his, he could not simply walk away.

"But what if you get hurt?"

"Don't worry too much. The moment it looks too dangerous, I'll scrap it immediately."

"Really? Then promise me."

"Here — I promise."

Only after their pinkies locked did Fortuna's expression ease, if only a little.

"Jun, is there anything else you need appraised?"

"No, that's everything."

"Then shall ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we go? I'll see you to the front gate."

She had looked exhausted even when she first came out to meet them, so Jun and his wives urged her to rest for a while and declined the escort. Carol refused to hear of it. In the end, they headed for the main gate together.

Along the way—

"…Am I imagining things, or are there a lot of people I've never seen before?"

"No! I think so too!"

The central plaza was overflowing with unfamiliar faces. As they stared in puzzlement, Carol explained.

"They're fourth-year Academy students. I mentioned it before, didn't I? Around this time of year they come here for practical training."

"Ah. Already?"

Jun frowned. He had planned to stay away for a while precisely to avoid getting tangled in any potential trouble — but the ambush had driven the whole matter clean out of his mind.

Clap! Clap!

"Jun, what are you doing all of a sudden?"

"Praying. Begging that nothing happens."

"Doing that usually guarantees something will. What's it called again — a cliché?"

"…Angel, can your fortune power not dodge that one?"

"Nope. Can't dodge it∼."

Cliché.

Even an angel was powerless against that.