Now Rest Easy

Septic tank: cleared.

Livestock barn: cleared.

Today: the landfill.

The grand finale of the D-rank debut trilogy!

"Byeori, want another mask?"

"I'm fine. My nose died back at the barn."

"Kh...! Sorry for being such a pathetic guild master...!"

The request form had been written with considerable grandeur.

Sounded cool enough. In summary, though, it meant this:

Go tidy up next to the mountain of trash.

Jihyun had been right about every last word. What place on earth would put an Ego Sword to work like this?

The rift itself was a yawn.

One watermelon-sized slime. Nayeon took care of it.

Time required: five seconds.

"Is that... it?"

"That was way too easy. Oh—this is when you're supposed to say Did we get them all...!"

They even tried the magic words, but the rift's light faded without a shred of lingering attachment.

With that, all three jobs were done!

Before they left, Jihyun had said it: finish today's request, and they'd order something called chicken for dinner!

Kh...!

Chicken!

How heavenly would chicken taste after three years?

Up until then, the mood had been excellent.

Until, on the way out, she saw it.

A corner of the landfill. A low hill.

"...Huh?"

Not dirt—metal.

Broken swords. Chipped spears. Shields whose engravings had died and no longer glowed.

Things that had rolled and rolled until even the final auction couldn't fetch a price, discarded and piled into a mountain.

Left like this, they'd either rust away or get handed off to a specialist firm and end up in a furnace.

There was a no-trespassing sign with ownership details written on it. Though it was half-fallen over and eating dirt, so that was a problem.

That longsword had three chips in the blade. That spear's shaft was rotting from the base. That shield... ah, that one had probably been mediocre even before the engraving died.

As she scanned them, she found herself laughing at the act of scanning them.

"Heh."

What was so great about her that she was laughing? If it hadn't been for Nayeon, she would have gone into a furnace herself, or been buried like these friends.

Someone might wonder. Even if it had been forced, she was still the first S-rank in the country—wouldn't she have eventually ended up in a collector's hands?

...Maybe, if things had been traded normally under normal circumstances.

If only her last owner hadn't dumped her just anywhere!

Then she wouldn't have ended up at some scrap disposal auction, and she might have been traded at a decent price...

Well, she could roughly understand that person's psychology.

It was a sword treated as obsolete anyway. Maybe they hadn't wanted to spare even a shred of attention for her, broken in two. Or maybe they hated the idea of people asking whether they'd ruined the first domestic S-rank, so they'd quietly tried to dispose of her through that route.

Anyway...

"......"

She glanced back at Nayeon.

She was newly grateful. Thanks to her, she had a body now, and could even get sentimental like this.

She quietly crouched down and looked at her nameless friends.

You've worked hard.

Now rest easy. Don't get hurt anymore.

She stroked one of them, with a heart that wanted to honor their lonely labors.

Far off, on the other side of the pile, there were people.

Three of them. Looking at their vests, hunters—and looking at their gear level... finances about on par with theirs.

She was about to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just walk past when she saw one of them pressed right up against the pile, digging for something.

"Master. What are those people doing?"

"Side hustle."

Nayeon shrugged like she knew all about it.

"Apparently if you pick out anything usable from there and sell it, you can cover your drinking money. There's so much that a few going missing doesn't even show."

That counted as a side hustle?

If they were usable, they wouldn't have ended up here in the first place.

...was what she thought, right at that moment.

Rumble—

Whether they'd disturbed something that had been supporting the weight, the pile on that side shuddered and began to cascade down.

Weapons pouring like a landslide.

When the sound stopped, the person who'd been digging out weapons with a pickaxe was buried in metal up to the waist.

"—Hey! You okay?! Are you hurt?!"

"I-I'm fine... but my legs! My legs won't come free! Pull me out!"

The other two ran over with shovels.

And started digging from the top....

"...Uh."

They shouldn't do that.

Every time a shovel scraped away metal, the whole pile shifted a little, resettling.

Clatter. Clatter.

If they kept scraping like that, the pile would lock solid. Given the weight, unless they removed every single weapon, they wouldn't be able to get him out.

From ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the outside it looked like a rescue. Knowing the reality, it was practically a burial.

When she tried to head over on her own, Nayeon grabbed her arm.

"Byeori, wait—"

"They can't dig like that."

"What?"

"Digging. If you dig from above, it settles by as much as you dig. They won't be able to get him out that way."

Nayeon frowned as she looked across.

"See. It just settled again."

A shovel went in once. Clatter—and the hill sank by a handspan.

A scream came from the buried person's mouth.

"Augh...! You're right!"

Nayeon ran.

Legs far longer and more slender than Byeori's stubby little ones.

In an instant she was over there, shouting.

"Stop with the shovels! You're making more of it pour down!"

"Th-then what are we supposed to do?! Someone's going to die at this rate!"

"Did you call for rescue?"

"We did! Forty minutes! They said forty minutes to get out here!"

Forty minutes? There was no way he'd last that long.

"Ugh...!"

The person under the pile twisted their face in pain.

From above, they needed to clear the metal chunks locking the legs in place first. But there was no one who could get up there.

Nayeon bit her lip. And—

"J-just a second! I'm a hunter too, okay? I'll climb up—"

"It'll collapse."

"Carefully! If I'm careful—"

"Even carefully, your body weight makes it impossible."

Nayeon closed her mouth.

The two across looked at her. Then one of them, with an angry face.

"Hey! Can't you see the adults are talking?! This isn't the time for games!"

Sure. She knew.

"Who's the lightest person here?"

"...What?"

"I'm the lightest, right? Plus I've only been eating porridge lately, so I'm even lighter."

She pointed at the rope hanging from the two men's backpacks and continued.

"That rope. Tie it to my ankle, and hold the end."

"......"

"If anything seems off, yank hard. You don't have to wait for my answer."

Nayeon took the rope.

Then wrapped it around Byeori's ankle, around her own forearm, then wrapped it one more time.

"......I can't feel my leg."

"Stay still."

An angry voice.

...This time, it didn't seem like it'd come loose easily.

She flattened herself on her belly.

Distributing the weight across four legs... no, two hands and two feet.

Crawled a handspan at a time. Stopped, carefully tapped a spear shaft with a fingertip.

Clatter. The spear shaft wobbled, but the greatsword stuck next to it didn't budge.

Hmm, so that was it. Ones that weren't tangled with other weapons and were free-floating would move. Ones locked tight under the weight didn't budge at all.

So it was obvious what not to touch.

Crawl crawl crawl crawl. Six handspans to the buried guy.

"Y-you, what are you. Why are you here."

"Just a D-rank passing by."

"......"

"Think about something else. This'll be over soon."

What had the legs locked tight was one half of a greatsword and two spear shafts.

And all of that was supported by a single shield at the very bottom.

That was the pillar. Touch that one and everything would come crashing down together.

Leave the pillar. Only the free-floating ones around it.

One spear shaft, back. Half a broken sword, back.

Sorry to interrupt your rest. Excuse me a moment, friends.

There's a person buried, you see.

Every time she cleared one, the pile breathed with a clatter-clatter. Each time she stopped her hands and waited, then cleared ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again once it settled.

Finally the last spear shaft came free.

"Once your legs are free, crawl the way I came."

"C-crawl?"

"If you stand, this all comes down. Okay? If you don't want to become a pancake, crawl."

He crawled, trembling. On all fours over the metal hill.

The moment his hands touched solid ground, a sound came from behind.

Crash. Metal filled the spot where he'd been trapped just moments ago.

Oof. If it'd been a little later, that would've been horrific.

That was when the rope went taut.

Nayeon yanked the rope hard, and Byeori floated lightly up and landed on the ground.

The first words she heard the moment her feet touched the ground weren't thank you.

"M-my shovel! My shovel's in there—"

"Bought it on installment?"

"...How'd you know?"

Living in this business, everyone's pretty much the same.

The rescued man's legs looked fine on the surface. Lots of scrapes, but nothing at a wrong angle.

Still, they'd been pressed for a long time. Even if they looked fine, who knew about the inside.

"Lay him down for now! Moving around carelessly could make it worse."

Tetanus shots and such... the ER would handle that, right?

As she caught her breath and looked back at the pile, the man who seemed to be their leader came over and bowed his head.

"Thank you. Really... I don't know what to say."

"Apologizing for yelling at a kid earlier would be the proper order, wouldn't it?"

Nayeon crossed her arms. She'd thought they'd just let it go, but of course Nayeon was Nayeon.

"That... you're right. I'm sorry. But given the situation—"

"Even so."

Then the one who seemed like the youngest, who'd been off to the side staring at her, clapped his hands.

"Ah! Hyung, isn't that her? The, the roleplay one!"

"What?"

"She was famous on HuntGal. The elementary schooler who does knight roleplay or whatever."

Ah, why wouldn't that rumor just die already!

"That's right, I'm that mas—"

The moment Nayeon opened her mouth, Byeori frantically sent eye signals.

"—ter's close older sister who gets called Master. Ha, haha!"

The world's most suspicious sentence was complete.

Practice really did pay off. You're amazing, my master.

The rescue team really did take the full forty minutes to arrive.

The man was loaded onto a stretcher, and the accident details were sorted out by Jihyun over the phone. Time of the report, the order of the collapse, even the number of pieces cleared.

Making her work remotely too... how sorry could they be.

Suddenly she wondered.

Jihyun—how much salary was she getting? Was it even minimum wage...?

The car ride back was quiet.

Until Nayeon, working the wheel, opened her mouth.

"Byeori."

"Yes."

"Last time, Unnie said she was sorry for getting angry."

The day they got the assessment notice.

Why did you cross the control line then—

She'd said that much and cut herself off mid-sentence.

"That was a half-assed apology. I'll do it again."

"......"

"That line—half of it was resentment."

The light changed. It was green, but the car didn't move.

"Not because you did anything wrong. Because Unnie was scared. I don't want to lose our guild members anymore."

Nayeon kept staring ahead. Byeori studied her profile, then quietly shifted her gaze out the window.

She'd never learned what to say at times like this.

"......I'm fine, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Master."

"Mm."

"I'm really fine. Really."

"Mm. I know—but today Unnie isn't fine."

No answer came to mind for that.

Defeated by her words, Byeori sank her back into the seat.

The association official notice had arrived two days ago.

There were no sentences about who had done what wrong.

That evening, she stood before the shredder.

There were several pages attached.

Unknown names. Irrelevant processing results.

One page. Two pages.

The machine made a regular sound as it chewed and ground the paper.

Her hand stopped at the last page.

Just put it in. The slot was two handspans away.

Her hand wouldn't move.

"...It's not over yet."

She said it, then asked herself.

What? What exactly isn't over?

In the end no answer came, and only the paper was folded back up.

So the new fold lines would pass over the original fold lines. Exactly as it had been folded before.

The drawer closed.

The official notice went into a different drawer.

The blank checkbox on the notice remained unfilled today as well.