I'm a Dungeon Farmer

I'm a dungeon farmer. Suddenly, gates appeared all over the world. If you pass through a gate, you enter a place called a dungeon—and right now, the entire planet is obsessed with exploring them. This is the hottest era in Earth's history. I think I saw on the news that they started terraforming the Moon and Mars at the same time not long ago, so who knows? Earth might soon dominate our entire galaxy.

'Another rocket launched into space this morning.'

Earth had developed at breakneck speed through industrialization, but it nearly fell into ruin from global warming and the like. Then came the good news: the Gate Incident. Gates appeared without warning in every country. When massive ones—big enough to swallow skyscrapers whole—popped up, all of humanity was stunned. Korea's was unique, forming not on land but over the Han River, making it a global sensation.

For a while, research on the gates dominated the headlines. Then the exploration team led by American scholar Dr. Arnold, the first to enter, returned and proclaimed a New Era. Despite their enormous size, the gates led to unknown realms of unimaginable scale. He claimed that pioneering and developing them would bring humanity unprecedented advancement.

Years later, new areas are still being discovered, and every nation is racing to claim territory inside the dungeons. Another change since the gates opened: some people awakened with new powers. Awakeners. They make up less than 1% of the global population, but that's still no small number.

These awakeners explore the dungeons, unearthing minerals and resources unknown to Earth, propelling the planet into its greatest golden age. I'm an awakener too, so I can take some pride in that—but why a farmer of all things...

The awakening alert even seemed apologetic, trailing off with all those dots. Yeah, I'm an awakener. And I'm a farmer. A dungeon farmer. The kind who sows seeds, waters crops, and grows produce inside dungeons. That's me, Ho Tae. Surname Ho, given name Tae—of course, using the hanja for "great" (太).

★ This morning, the shop window was buzzing again. When did it start? My crops, grown and listed in the Dungeon Shop, drawing this much attention.

The reactions are always this hot. Just from listing some carrots I grew in the Dungeon Shop. Sure, they're enthusiastic—but not in a good way. Lately, my crops get roasted every time. At least they're paying attention, right? Bad press is still press! Fuck.

But seeing [Sales: 0] as always, I can picture them auto-returning to my inventory after the one-month listing period. Do these trolls have nothing better to do?! They don't buy, yet they flock here to shitpost every time. Casual browsers who might actually be hungry and tempted get scared off by this crap.

If only buyers could leave reviews—but nope, the Dungeon Shop lets anyone comment, bought or not.

'They're really tasty, I swear! Twice as sweet and flavorful as store-bought carrots!'

Carrots aren't that sweet anyway. But mine are tastier than average.

I can vouch for that... Anyway, ignoring the pointless comments, I head out. Yeah, even as one of the world's top 1% awakeners, I gotta work to eat. Sales are eternally zero, so my real gig is guiding in the dungeon. A straight-up guide. Not some central bus tour—think the guy yelling, "Follow the yellow flag!" But for dungeons.

It's a bit different since it's a dungeon, not a tourist spot, but I lead clients who specifically request me. I used to take pride in it, feel fulfilled. Lately, though... a bit of doubt creeps in.

I gazed up at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cloudless blue sky and sighed. Today’s client wasn’t ordinary. I’d been guiding the same person for a week now. Rare, but one-on-one gigs exist—and they pay better than groups. No reason to refuse. Still, three weeks left on the one-month contract.

Pope recognized as a Saintess? S-rank awakener? Reincarnation of the benevolent goddess? Miracle worker who revives vegetables? Korea’s Teresa, the world’s healer from Korea? Whatever. The woman I’m guiding... is she even the same person?

"Hurry up, you slowpoke!"

I looked up at the sharp voice. A blonde woman with flashing purple eyes glared at me, hair swaying.

My employer, venting her anger physically. Thanks to her hiring me as a personal guide for a month, my bonus was fat. So I quickened my pace, practically running barefoot toward her.

Not out of gratitude, of course.

"You worthless slug, dawdling like that?"

"N-no, ma'am!!!"

"I told you to get here earlier than me, didn't I?!"

Her face wasn't scary when scowling. What terrified me was her personality. Shit. Is this the army? Why the drill-sergeant act? She always pulls this, but I shrink like a mouse before a cat. S-rank awakener. Does God grade based on looks? Higher ranks mean prettier people—it's unfair.

Stuffing my complaints, I moved like a recruit under a demon instructor.

"S-sorry for being... l-late... but it's still ten minutes early...?"

"So? I got here first—you're late!"

Illogical, but power is law here. And she's the woman the Holy See calls Saintess. Of course, her shattered personality ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is my little secret.

Our first meeting wasn't bad.

"I'll hire you as my dungeon guide."

"R-really?!"

"Yes. I liked how diligently you work."

"You saw me?"

"Pardon? What did I say?"

"...? Anyway, it's... an h-hon honor!"

"No need. Help me get used to the dungeon. Nice to work with you."

"Ah~ the pleasure's mine!"

Warm and fuzzy. Fit her saintly image perfectly. With her miracle healing—even without it—her dazzling looks and voluptuous barbie-doll figure could've made her an angel. At first.

"Why are you so late?"

"Huh? It's three minutes early."

"I was here first—you're late."

Day two. Then,

"Didn't properly scout the dungeon?"

"No, I said yesterday this is slime territory—wear pants...!"

"Eek! D-do something about this! Sticky... eek! Hah! N-no... not there... not yet... nooo!"

"...You okay?!"

"You see me like this and that's all you say? Ugh~ fix it somehow!!! You're the guide!!!"

I'd warned her: pants and chest guard for lewd slime zone. But she showed up in a short skirt and white blouse, then blamed me. It escalated from there. Eventually, the demon emerged.

"Hey! You think you're better 'cause your stats are higher? Porter scum!"

"I'm not a porter... I'm a guide?"

"Guide, porter—same difference!"

"Uh... yeah... but you're not like the saintess image."

"Ha! Lowly trash wants VIP treatment?!"

"What does that—"

"Shut it!"

Yesterday's TV ad showed the saintess with a benevolent smile and pure charm, blessing a gravely wounded awakener. A miracle. Korea's pride, revered worldwide. Bitch... To me, she's just a dog with "bitch" attached. A week-plus into the job, I'm her slave, punching bag, emotional dumpster for her twisted feelings.

"So that emcee bastard..."

"Yes. Right."

"I haven't even started."

"Yes! He's the asshole!"

"You mocking me, you worm?!"

"Exactly."

"No pervy monsters today, right?"

"Nope. None."

"Your tone's cheeky."

"Me? No way."

"See? Cheeky. Why? Fought with your girl? Oh right, you're a virgin loser. Heh... not ugly, but personality's the issue?"

"Reflex."

She seems to grind my gears on purpose, but nah—that's just her. No one knows, but this is the real saintess. Venomous villain hiding behind the title.

"Oh! Saintess, isn't it?!"

"Ah... y-yes... hello..."

Look at her, trembling shyly to strangers.

"Um, Saintess? Could we get a photo? My kid's a huge fan."

"Oh! Really? Of course. L-like this...?"

"Yes, big smile. Wow... even prettier in person."

"No... w-well, I need to train, so..."

"Ah, yes! Thank you, Saintess!"

"Y-yes, take care everyone..."

Her big eyes half-closed, head bowed demurely. Back to me, I already had wet wipes ready.

"Wet wipes!"

"Here."

"Hah... so annoying! That sweat stench! Sneaky groper, right? You saw."

"Kid's a fan..."

"Kid my ass... rubbing up on me... ugh, more wipes!!!"

I had four ready; she snatched them, scrubbing her arm and shoulder where she'd brushed the guy. Dog personality saintess, but sigh... what's the point of being so pretty... Her beauty's real—hand slipping along her shoulder into her clothes was damn stimulating.

"Hey, loser! Spying on me again?"

"We travel together daily—what's to spy?"

"What, that curious about my skin?"

"Me? Dare peek at Saintess skin?"

"See! Staring at my shoulder!"

"No, leaf here... wait, earthworm?"

"E-earthworm!? Eeeek!!!"

Fake, of course. Without these pranks, I'd go insane.

"Oops, just hair."

"You... y-you... worthless loser!"

"~ Worthless loser entering first!"

I dashed into the gate before her yell. She grumbled but stuck close, pinching my shirt between thumb and forefinger like it was gross. Her healing's unmatched, blessed. But despite max mana as a healer, her physical stats suck. That's why she trains at the entrance...

Low body stats kept her from real dungeon runs—maybe twisted her personality. Her fame skyrockets healing returnees, but she wants to dive in. So here I am, tending her to build tolerance.

"Worthless punk acting cocky!"

This "taunt" now sounds like praise—to me alone. But I did nothing... cocky?