A Dream of Three Beautiful Wives
When I opened my eyes, I was in a forest.
When I started walking, I found myself in another world.
When I looked up at the sky, a labyrinth towered overhead.
And when I finally came to my senses… I was a beggar boy, pleading for scraps.
"Spare a coin!"
Making money was genuinely hard.
For Rendel, who had yet to come of age, it was harder still.
The Labyrinth only admitted adults. Trying to earn a living in Labyrinth City without ever setting foot inside the Labyrinth turned out to be far more difficult than he had imagined.
Something about how a minor whose body hadn't finished developing would collapse if they absorbed the Labyrinth's mana — that was the rule, more or less. Or so he recalled.
At any rate, once Rendel had adjusted somewhat to this other world, he began scraping together coin by working odd jobs at the Adventurer Guild and taking private commissions for pay.
A man who needed to amass a great deal of money, Rendel always chose the commissions that paid even a little more. Hauling monster corpses sealed under preservation magic, for instance, or standing guard at the Labyrinth entrance — the sort of work that made the faint of heart turn tail. Those jobs paid better than civilian requests like finding a lost pet slime, so the modest risk was worth it.
But those petty commissions were about to become a thing of the past.
Rendel would soon be an adult. An adult who could enter the Labyrinth.
Once he stepped inside, he could earn hundreds of times what a private commission paid. And once he could do that, he would finally be able to reach his goal.
"Heh heh."
The thought of entering the Labyrinth soon drew a smile to his lips before he could stop it.
It was eight o'clock in the evening. Rendel was sorting mana stones at the Adventurer Guild's exchange counter, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, when a man with green hair and green eyes approached.
"Rendel. Something good happen?"
Lokt — a twenty-five-year-old crocodile beastman and an employee of the Adventurer Guild. If Rendel had a closest friend in this world, it was him.
Still sorting stones with his hands, Rendel looked up at Lokt.
"I'm about to become an adult. The kind who can enter the Labyrinth."
"You want in that badly?"
"Of course."
"And that dream of yours hasn't changed?"
"Haha. No, it hasn't."
Rendel scratched his head with an embarrassed little laugh. And well he might — because his dream was a touch off-kilter.
"I have to get stronger…"
The strong claim beautiful women.
That phrase was the motto Rendel kept engraved deep in his heart. And beneath that motto lived a dream.
Live happily ever after with three beautiful wives.
Of course, Lokt knew nothing of this dream. No one did, save Rendel himself.
I am never saying that out loud!
His dream was the sort of thing that invited mockery. Speak it aloud and the threats would pour in at once — Know your place, commoner — that kind of talk. Class discrimination wasn't especially vicious in this world, but a commoner dreaming of three beautiful wives still sat poorly with public opinion. He wasn't even a noble…
In fact, when Rendel was ten years old, he had once shouted at the top of his lungs, "I'm going to live happily with three beautiful wives!" — and received a thorough scolding about raising children properly. Ever since, he had locked the dream away in the deepest corner of his heart.
Lokt's face went blank with disbelief for a moment, then he asked,
"Anyway, I've got some good news. Want to hear it?"
"What is it?"
"Before that, one question. How much money have you saved up?"
"……?"
At the question of how much money he had, Rendel's hands stopped. His expression hardened, and those gold eyes turned quietly toward Lokt.
Lokt waved both hands in frantic denial.
"N-no, it's not like that! Here — take this."
Rendel accepted the paper Lokt held out.
"It's a ticket to an auction the underworld is holding. Took me a lot of trouble to get."
Hearing Lokt talk so casually about the criminal underworld, Rendel stared and asked again,
"Excuse me? The underworld? Is a Guild employee even allowed to just… acquire something like this?"
"I went through a lot to get this for you, since you're about to enter the Labyrinth for the first time. I heard a useful rune is coming up at this auction. Figured it'd be good if you got your hands on it. No harm in preparing thoroughly."
"……"
Rendel was at a loss for words. The fact that Lokt had secured an underworld ticket for his sake was genuinely touching — but there was one thing Lokt didn't know.
"Uh… well, I'm really grateful, but."
"Right? I told you, this was hard to get."
Lokt squeezed out a theatrical tear, as if demanding more gratitude.
However—
"I, uh… I can't use rune seals."
"…What?!"
The words that left Rendel's mouth left Lokt thunderstruck.
"What? Why? Are you sick? Or is it rune-nausea?"
Lokt fired off questions in a panic, but Rendel continued.
"No. It's not that."
"Not that. Then what."
What came next was more than enough to plunge Lokt into a pit of pure shock.
"Do you know what the Dragon's Seal is? I've already engraved that."
"…The Dragon's Seal?"
"Yes."
Lokt tilted his head and thought hard.
The Dragon's Seal… what was that again?
He repeated the name over and over in his mind until something suddenly surfaced — and in that instant, the color drained from Lokt's face. He roared at the innocent-looking Rendel.
"You engraved the Dragon's Seal?! You insane little—!!!"
The howl was loud enough to shake the air.
"?!"
"What the hell were you thinking, engraving that?! Do you even know what it is?!"
Rendel flinched at Lokt's sudden change. The blood that had fled Lokt's face flooded back in a furious crimson, twisting his features into something almost demonic.
"You little bastard. You're finished as an adventurer. Give it up!!! Do you know what the Dragon's Seal is? The absolute peak of inefficiency! A money-devouring monster! The most infamous money-pit in the entire world, and you went and engraved that?!"
Lokt ranted on with a face that flushed red and purple by turns. Rendel, by contrast, was strangely calm — because he already knew all of it.
In the end, there was only one thing he could say.
"I know."
"Argh!!! You lunatic! You knew and you still did it?! Hah. You've completely lost it. Has Satan possessed you?"
Watching Lokt's face cycle through expressions by the second, a quiet dread began to creep over Rendel. The Dragon's Seal this, adventurers that, Rendel you're finished, you'll crawl through the bottom ranks for the rest of your life — Lokt emptied every accusation he could invent before finally—
"Hah…"
—shaking his head and clawing his way back to reason.
"From what I know, it goes up to nine stages. How far have you gotten?"
Rendel scratched his head. With Lokt this furious, even answering felt almost apologetic.
"Still Stage One. I only spent eight million Ref."
"Insane. You're insane. You've completely lost your mind!!! You dumped eight million Ref into that garbage? Eight million Ref could buy you a perfectly decent low-grade rune for free!"
"……"
"Huff… huff…"
Lokt kept exhaling hard, looking like a man in desperate need of emotional regulation.
"Aigoo, my head. Rendel, you… Hah. Never mind. That's enough for today. Go home."
"I'll finish sorting these first, then go."
Mana stones still filled Rendel's hands, and the sight of them twisted something in Lokt's soul.
"No! You go home. Go home and sit quietly. Don't do anything stupid!"
Lokt grabbed Rendel by the arm and bodily hurled him outside.
"Lokt?"
Turning his back on Rendel's bewildered face, Lokt clutched his throbbing head.
"Hah… the Dragon's Seal, of all things."
A kid whose goal was to get stronger had gone and engraved the Dragon's Seal. The ultimate money-pit — effort, coin, and time poured in for an efficiency so abysmal it defied belief. If an ordinary person needed to invest one unit of cost to grow by one unit of strength, someone bearing the Dragon's Seal needed a hundred — no, more. Pure financial self-immolation. Tossing money on the ground would be wasteful enough; shredding it and feeding it to the fish would still be more efficient.
And his precious little brother had gone and done exactly that.
"Hah… No. This isn't the time."
He had to find a way to remove the Dragon's Seal.
For Rendel's sake.
No matter what.
The Dragon's Seal was exactly as terrible as Lokt described — perhaps even more vicious.
Rendel knew it well. He had heard the whole story from a dragonoid: the very dragonoid who had engraved the seal on him. Even a dragonoid had clicked their tongue and tried to talk him out of it. That was the Dragon's Seal.
And still, Rendel had to do it.
Because—
Live happily ever after with three beautiful wives.
To make that dream come true.
That was all.
Back home, he washed up and checked his back in the mirror. Near his spine, a sharp, unfamiliar pattern had been engraved in the shape of a shield.
This was why Rendel could not receive ordinary seals. The Dragon's Seal was already so special — too special — that it came with a fatal drawback: the bearer could not obtain any seal granted by runes.
I wouldn't have done it either, if not for the Stage Nine effect.
He had chosen the Dragon's Seal because he was captivated by the power of its highest stage. For that, he was prepared to burn money until his body itself went up in flames. He did not regret it.
It was only that the road to the goal stretched very, very long.
I might not even finish it in this lifetime…
It was that expensive.
He finished washing and stepped out — and a knock sounded at his door.
Knock, knock.
"Rendel. Are you in there?"
The voice belonged to Rabielicainisia.
She was the daughter of the benefactor who had reached out a hand to Rendel when he first fell into this other world and was living as a beggar. By station, Rendel was her butler — a purely external title, with no actual duties attached.
"Yes. Please come in."
The door creaked open, and a young woman of refined, clear beauty peeked her face through the gap. Between locks of vivid scarlet hair, deep gold eyes shone. She was a beauty who looked as though she could conquer the world — yet her manner and presence carried the fresh, youthful air of a teenager. It was almost impossible to believe she was a grandmother well over two hundred years old.
That, apparently, was the nature of a long-lived race.
And so—
Rabielicainisia was one of Rendel's "wife candidates."
Not that she would ever like me.
To win a beautiful woman, one had to become strong.
Rabiel stepped into Rendel's room, watched him towel-drying his hair, and perched on the edge of the bed. Then she said,
"Rendel, you've gathered all sixty million Ref this time, haven't you?"
"!!!"
Rendel flinched and stared at her. Sixty million Ref — the sum he had saved for Stage Two of the Dragon's Seal. He had told no one he had finished collecting it. And yet she knew.
He was a little startled, but there was no real reason to hide it.
"…Yes. I've gathered it all."
The beautiful girl-grandmother Rabiel wriggled her fingers and toes and asked carefully,
"Are you really… going to unlock Stage Two?"
Seven years ago, when he had said he would engrave Stage One, she had asked the same question.
"Yes. I have to get stronger."
Rendel's answer was the same as well — but
"That's not it."
—the words that came back were different from seven years ago.
"That goal of getting stronger. That's not it."
Her tone was cold, with a thread of sulkiness woven through it.
"If you want to get stronger, you should find some other method. Why are you doing this? Engraving a Dragon's Seal that doesn't even make you strong and just eats a fortune? Why?"
"……"
He had nothing to say. She had driven straight into the heart of sound reason — and the terrifying thing about sound reason was that none of it was wrong, so there was no way through.
"Our dragonoid race is declining because of the Dragon's Seal. You know that too, right? The materials are hard to find, it costs an absurd amount of money… I want to know your real intention, Rendel."
Rabiel looked him square in the eye.
"……"
Rendel's black hair gleamed under the moonlight, and his gold eyes had nowhere to go.
"You're not going to tell me?"
Even when Rabiel pressed him, Rendel stayed silent. Inside, he was frantically searching for any escape hatch he could find.
How am I supposed to say I want to live happily ever after with three beautiful wives…
But however Rabiel chose to interpret that silence—
"Hah… Rendel. For the sake of your future, I have to hear it. I can't just let you throw yourself into the abyss."
"…?"
In that instant, her round pupils slit vertically into sharp, predatory lines.
"!!!"
Unmistakable dragon's eyes. That signal meant—
It was a dragonoid's unique ability: Word Soul.
…I'm finished.
His thoroughly materialistic, thoroughly sordid, thoroughly secret harem ambition was about to be exposed.