Isn't the Labyrinth Just a Honey Pot? (1)
Hum hum~♪ The sky was clear without a single cloud, a slightly cool breeze blowing, and the sunlight shining down warmly. It was the kind of weather that naturally brought out a tune from my lips and made my body feel languid.
On a day like this, grabbing an iced Americano and strolling through the park would be pure bliss.
…But isn't that just a waste of money?
Tea has always been a luxury item, no matter the era. In other words, it's not an essential part of survival. Chugging it down like water? If that's not extravagance, what is?
So here, I, Ryd Blanc, declare: I will forever part ways with a lavish lifestyle.
It wasn't because I was broke or anything. I just felt like it.
Ah, I want fried eggs.
It had been five whole days since I'd seen that glistening golden yolk. It was a situation I'd brought on myself, so I couldn't complain to anyone.
I wonder if they have quail eggs in this world? They're small, so they might be cheaper. Speaking of quail eggs, now I'm craving them braised… smack.
I swallowed the thoughts flooding my mind along with my saliva. Imagining things I couldn't have would just torment me.
But it sure motivated me. I'd buy eggs—quail or pigeon—with today's earnings. And tomorrow morning, fried eggs for breakfast.
Lost in those thoughts, I'd arrived at my destination before I knew it: the guild. The place to turn Project Fry into reality.
I stepped inside without hesitation.
Pretty crowded in here.
From newbies checking requests on the massive bulletin board to folks consulting with receptionists in real time, the guild was packed with explorers of all levels.
Dungeon delving was the fastest, most lucrative way to make money. Of course, it came with risks.
According to the big data in my head, it was the most dangerous place in this world. But people tend to turn a blind eye to the negatives.
It'll never happen to me, they think.
Just like construction workers who, when you warn them it's dangerous, brag about their experience: I've been in this game for 20 years… The problem is, they always end up cracking their skulls and retiring early. Makes you wonder if their brains got rattled.
Anyway, that's human nature. We focus on the positives. That's why dungeon delving stays popular.
Not that I could deny it was the lifeline for commoners. Get lucky, and you could turn your life around. Even if not, you could at least earn a living.
Sometimes that lifeline's rotten, though… But hey, they chose to grab it.
To dive those dungeons, you needed to register at the guild.
"Hello. How can I help you?"
"I'd like to register as an explorer."
"Ah…"
The receptionist let out a sigh. She tried to hide it, but I felt her eyes scanning me up and down.
Man, that's kinda embarrassing. The blood's rushing somewhere other than my face; it's getting hot.
"As you know, the labyrinth is really dangerous. Already ten deaths this month in our branch alone—not counting the others."
In short, she was saying the same as Luton: Go in there, and you're dead meat.
Didn't bother me, though. She was worried about my life, after all. And honestly… the receptionist sis was pretty cute. Right up my alley.
"Whoa, judging by appearances, sis? Looks can be deceiving—my inner strength is rock solid. You know, tough on the outside, strong within?"
"Plenty have said that and ended up in a coffin wagon."
This sis has some backbone. Mental note: slight deduction from her likeability score.
But if I pushed hard, she couldn't really refuse. Turning away someone for looking weak? Ridiculous. And she didn't have the authority anyway.
Still, yelling Guild master, get out here! What's with your receptionist training?! would be…
Honestly, a waste on multiple levels.
The labyrinth's potential value exceeded anything you could imagine. Even I, who'd cleared it 1,000 times, hadn't seen the end. Well, technically because of those damn final bosses—two of them now, plus Jenia…
Anyway, better not to piss off the guild managing it. Long-term thinking. Didn't want to be labeled a troublemaker from day one.
So, Plan B it was.
"Sis, truth is, I've got a grandfather and little sister depending on me. Parents are gone. If I can't become an explorer…"
"Ugh…"
Jackpot. She was empathizing with my sob story. Probably an F-type on MBTI.
"Just putting one fried egg on the table. That's my dream."
"A-alright…!"
Whew! Good thing I'd prepped Plan B. Never thought I'd need it, but assume makes an ass out of you and me.
Plus, it wasn't even a lie—no guilt. Gotta take care of Luton and Jenia, after all.
…Why am I suddenly feeling sad? Did my own story move me?
After that, she guided me through registration. Procedures were simple—explorers die so often, why bother with complexity? Info gets scrapped anyway.
"There, all done."
She handed me a necklace with a small metal tag: my explorer ID.
Never thought I'd see one in person…
As I picked it up, dramatically touched, a shiny silver coin gleamed from underneath.
"Sis, what's this?"
"Didn't you want an egg on your table?"
"Aigoo, forget it. I may be broke, but I got pride."
"P-pride? No idea what that means, but take it."
If you insist… I snuck the coin away, glancing around slyly. I'd refused once for politeness.
Wonder if this buys three eggs…?
"It's not exactly free, though."
I dropped the coin like it burned.
Say that upfront! Got my hopes up. Total scam artist…
"H-hear me out…!"
"Huh?"
"Take it, and when you rank up, register me as your dedicated receptionist."
Oh, right—the guild had dedicated receptionists. Like managers: they pick quests matching your skills and push them. They get incentives from your performance, so win-win… mostly for them.
Hmm…
"That's a bit…"
Sis, we just met. Slow down; you're making me flustered.
"Luton! Jenia! I'm home!"
"W-welcome back, sir."
Jenia scurried over and bowed as I burst in with a booming voice. Luton must've trained her while I was gone. Gotta hand it to the family butler ambassador. He slacks on the old-man vibes, but work? Solid.
"Welcome home, young master."
Luton appeared from somewhere, bowing politely. I held out what I carried.
"Here."
"Aren't these… eggs?"
"Yeah. Fried for breakfast tomorrow, all together."
"You didn't do anything shady…?"
"Don't worry."
Bought 'em fair and square. Ended up taking sis's coin anyway, even after refusing her as dedicated. She's stubborn but sweet.
Man, Luton says the wildest shit. I'm still the young master, dude.
"Jenia, fried eggs tomorrow."
"C-can I really have some…?"
"Of course."
Her face lit up with a bright smile. Over one fried egg? Tells you how rough her life's been.
Problem is, I was grinning like an idiot too. Couldn't help it—fried eggs got me that hyped. This is happiness, right? Pure, simple joy.
…That was last night's thought.
What did fried eggs taste like again…?
I'd heard from sis yesterday: low-rank quests post at 6 a.m.—arrive late, you're out. So I dragged myself up before dawn, got ready, and headed out.
I swear I ate fried eggs with hard bread and stew, but the taste? Blank.
Low-rank explorers don't even deserve to savor flavors…
Inequality born of poverty? Infuriating.
Grumbling inwardly, I arrived at a packed guild. Tired faces, grubby clothes—like a dawn-day labor office. Hard workers, these folks. (Not that I was any different.) My eyes were glassy; felt half-unhinged.
How much time passed? Clack.
A tense hush, then the click of heels. The receptionist, arms full of yellowed papers—quests, no doubt.
Lowest-rank requests started pinning up. Once she finished and returned to the counter—
Screech, slam. The doors shut. And chaos erupted.
"Fuck! Move!"
"Crazy bastard, hands off!"
"What'd you say? Piss off!"
Day laborers warring for easier, better-paying gigs. And yeah, I was right in the mix.
"Outta my way, you lunatics!"
Shoving, pulling, jumping aboard—it was war. And I snagged it.
[Labyrinth 1st Floor, Zone 14: Slime Cleanup]
The grand overture to Project Fry. Got it.