The Underground Dungeon

"Congrats~! You got your first prisoner!"

Up on the screen in the Command Room, Redi spun a full, delighted circle.

"You've got a prisoner now, so this time it's the dungeon tutorial! Follow me, follow me!"

Sion rose from the chair and stepped into the worn elevator in the corner of the Command Room. Over one of the dead buttons on the panel, red lettering he had never seen before floated up, faint.

"Oh, not that one yet! It opens later~"

Sion pressed the button that was lit.

A lurch, and the floor sank with the groan of steel cable winding onto its drum.

He had looked this place over once before. It had been an empty room then.

Walls of rusted iron plate bolted end to end, moisture beading and running through the rivets at every seam. From the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pipes overhead, drops fell at a patient interval — tok, tok. At the end of the corridor stood a single cell, and beyond its rusted bars one chain hung slack from a ring in the inner wall.

"Ta-da! Your dungeon, now that it's welcomed its first guest. A little... cozy, right?"

"Seventy?"

"Yep! Seven times out of ten, they escape! But don't worry — gather Materials and patch it up, and that number comes right on down!"

Sion closed a hand around one of the bars. A little pressure, and rust flaked away in a dry scatter; inside his grip, the iron bent, faintly.

The bars were rotten, and the chain was nothing but a length hung on a single ring.

This isn't a prison. It's a waiting room.

The next sortie had its purpose. Materials.

And then—

From inside the bars, a chain rang.

Park Hyejin was there.

The far end of the wall. The deepest corner. She had both knees drawn tight to her chest and her back pressed flat to the iron, and from the shackle locked around her left ankle a chain ran slack to the ring in the wall.

The white knit had slipped entirely off one shoulder. A wet leather skirt clung to her thighs, and blood still seeped from the soles of her bare feet where glass had cut them. Run mascara had scored black lines down both cheeks.

She did not see Sion. Her eyes were nailed to the space just beyond the bars.

"Grrrrng..."

An orc was grinding its forehead against the bars. Every blast of breath from its nostrils sent rust dust flying, and spit ran in strings between its parted tusks, wetting the floor. Groin hideously swollen, it seized the bars in both hands and worked its body back and forth.

The bars shuddered — clank, clank — and every time they did, Park Hyejin's shoulders jumped.

"D-don't come... don't come, please... please..."

Closer to a breath than to a voice.

Sion looked down at the orc's back. At the izakaya, the thing had known enough to heave a refrigerator and bar a door. Cut the orders, and this was what remained.

Intelligence E. It does what it's told. Leave it without an order, and nothing remains but instinct.

...Another item for the list of things to fix.

"Move."

Beneath the low voice, a heavy resonance layered itself — one register laid over another.

"Gruk?!"

The orc startled and dropped from the bars. It scrambled backward, rear first, and crouched in a corner of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠corridor, and even then its eyes kept rolling sidelong toward the cell.

Only then did Park Hyejin's gaze move. The place ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the orc had given up. What had been standing behind it — she saw it only now.

Black.

A body as if carved from obsidian. Over smooth, hard black skin, red veins spread like a spider's web, lighting slowly with the pulse and then dying back. Beneath the head drawn long toward the rear, the face fell away to a sharp point, and there was not even a mouth. Only two narrowly slit red eyes looked down at her out of the dark.

It was smaller than the orc. And yet—

That thing... that thing is worse...

The orc was a beast. Big, and loud, and stupid. This one was quiet. It did not move, and it did not make a sound; it only stood, and that quiet closed around her throat tighter than the orc's roar ever had. The monster that had carried her here like luggage tucked its tail like a dog in front of it.

Park Hyejin's teeth chattered.

Metal clanged. The barred door opened, and Sion took one step into the cell.

"Wh-who are you... what are you, you..."

In place of an answer, another step came closer.

"Stay back! I-I'll report you! My phone... where's my phone...!"

Her hands scrabbled frantically over the wet floor. The chain-strap bag was gone. She had dropped it somewhere in the izakaya and come the rest of the way without it.

Another step.

"M-money? You want money? I'll give it to you! I've got savings, I've got cards... I'll give you all of it, you can take everything!"

Sion stopped one step short of her. From above, red eyes looked quietly down at Park Hyejin where she huddled.

From behind the store counter, the distance had always been this. Only then, she had been the one looking down.

With that mouth.

And now she offers her savings.

When Sion said nothing, Park Hyejin's face crumpled. She crawled forward on her knees and pressed herself flat at his feet.

"Please... spare me..."

The voice had changed.

"Please. Spare me. I'll do whatever you tell me. Anything at all. Okay? Please..."

Polite speech — the voice he had heard only on the days the store manager stopped in, or when a supervisor came down from headquarters. Half nasal, docile, slick with the wish to please.

Polite speech. At last.

Sion said nothing. He did not move.

Park Hyejin stayed as she was, forehead stuck to the floor. Nothing came down on her from above. Not a kick. Not a hand. Not that enormous arm.

...He isn't hitting me.

The shallow breaths lengthened, little by little.

Is it working? Does this thing understand words?

She knew what to do at a time like this. Get flatter. Look more pitiful. That was how she had always slipped through.

Carefully, Park Hyejin lifted her head. And then—

Her heart dropped.

The red eyes had not changed by a fraction from the first moment. No anger. No interest. Not even a sneer. Only then did she understand that she — face to the floor, begging — was not reflected in those eyes as a person at all.

It was not that her words were getting through.

They had never been worth hearing.

"N-no... wait, I..."

Then a thin line drew itself across the lower half of Sion's face.

A mouth that had not been there. Black skin split in silence, and the ends of the line climbed, slowly, into a smile.

He took a step. The wet iron underfoot rang, deep and heavy.

"Hhk—"

It was light. The back of a hand, no more than a tap against her cheek. That was all it was, by his measure.

Park Hyejin's body flew sideways.

She hit the iron wall shoulder-first and slid down it. The chain at her ankle snapped taut, then slumped loose. The cheek that had flared hot and numb swelled red in an instant, and a thin line of blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

"Ah... ugh..."

...That little.

Sion looked down at the back of his own hand. He still did not fully know this body's strength. He would have to learn to measure it.

He went down on one knee in front of her, wound the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠end of her long brown hair once around a finger, and drew it straight down.

"Kkh— ugh...!"

Park Hyejin's cheek was ground into the wet iron. Cold, metallic rust-water clung to the swollen skin.

Sion lowered his head. The doubled resonance settled low against her ear.

Park Hyejin's eyes went wide.

"Ooh~ Nice mood in here, huh?"

Redi popped out onto the small screen fixed to the corridor wall.

"Then, to mark the first prisoner! Tutorial gift, coming through~!"

"Mass-produced, so it's only the time that's short — the performance is exactly the same as the real thing! Perfect for a first prisoner, right?"

A small ampule rose over Sion's palm. Inside a glass tube no longer than a single finger joint, dark crimson liquid swayed, slow.

...And where did something like this come rolling in from.

The power he had gathered had given itself the shape of a game. Even Sion did not know all of what was in it.

He snapped the ampule's neck with his thumb.

Pop.

"N-no... what is that, what is it... I don't want it...!"

Park Hyejin clenched her teeth. Sion hauled her head back by the fistful of hair and pressed both sides of her jaw with his other hand. The mouth she had locked shut fell open, slack and useless.

Dark crimson liquid ran in over her tongue.

"Mmph—! Khh, cough—!"

She tried to cough it back up, but Sion's hand did not give her jaw back. Her throat bobbed once, hard.

Sion let go.

Park Hyejin planted a hand on the floor and pushed herself halfway up. She shoved her fingers down her throat. All that came was a dry heave.

"What... what did you make me swallow, you crazy—!"

She crawled for the wall. The chain scraped the floor and followed, clattering along behind her. Two steps. That was as far as the distance went.

In the corner of the corridor, the orc craned its neck and peered in through the bars.

"Gruk?"

The nape of her neck grew hot. At first she thought it was the alcohol. But the heat, far from sinking, spread slowly from her throat to her collarbones, and from her collarbones down over her chest. The cold of the iron wall against her back felt, strangely, good.

No.

No, this... this isn't...

Her breath went short. Park Hyejin clutched her knees tighter.

Sion did not move from where he stood. Red eyes looked down at her, waiting for the numbers to run out.

Tok. A drop from the ceiling broke on the floor.

Sion reached out and drew in the chain wrapped around her ankle.