Getting Ready for the Dungeon

THUD! THUD!

The sound of massive steel feet reverberated through the hangar floor.

Phew. Finally done.

The move was complete at last. All the luggage had been crammed into the Titans' storage compartments and hauled over in a single trip. Even though the building sat in the heart of the city, Titan accessibility was excellent—the wide road behind the alley connected directly to a Titan-only thoroughfare.

Roomy. I like it.

A satisfied smile spread across my lips. The machines that had grown from three to eight could now be parked in a neat two-column formation. Back at the old place, squeezing even five into the warehouse had required an all-out game of Titan Tetris, twisting and contorting every frame.

"……"

Marcus, meanwhile, stood watching the scene with his brain completely frozen.

What in the world is going on….

Every single one of them bore a grotesque, nightmarish exterior. Chimera robots whose models were unidentifiable—forget affiliation markings, he couldn't even tell what series they came from. But the thing that defied understanding most of all was the number.

Why eight?

Seven, not counting the girl. The way they'd followed in a perfectly disciplined tail formation made it clear they were her subordinates. Even after parking was finished, the seven Titans stood utterly motionless, as if awaiting orders.

She has underlings?

An ominous premonition flickered through his mind. Surely she wasn't planning to have her subordinates live in his building too? No matter how you looked at it, there wasn't room for seven more people. Just as the creeping dread began to swell—the fear that someone might end up sleeping in the bathroom—

"Uhh…?"

CLANG-! THUD!

One of the seven, a slightly bulkier machine, stepped forward. Marcus flinched, shoulders jerking, and stumbled backward.

"Whoa!"

Rumble-rumble—

A cascade of black scrap metal came pouring down onto the floor. The Titan's rear hatch had swung open and tilted, dumping its contents like a garbage truck emptying a container. The scrap was the alloy armor plating stripped from the Theocracy's Titans—pieces Rosetta hadn't been able to haul back last time because they were too heavy.

"…?"

While he stood gaping, dumbfounded, the metallic voice rang out again.

"Please… sell this."

"I'm sorry—what?"

She nudged the mountain of grimy scrap ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with her foot. To the naked eye, it looked like a pile of junk you'd get cursed at for dumping on any back-alley pawnshop.

"Don't lie about how much you sold it for, okay?"

"Ah—of… of course not!"

He nodded along for now. He didn't have the courage to talk back in front of eight dead-serious Titan knights who hadn't said a single word this whole time.

My personal belongings had been moved with Marcus's help. I hadn't even asked—he'd volunteered to carry everything over himself. Only after the sound of his footsteps had faded completely did I—

Ha… goddamn it.

—sink to the floor, exhaling the breath I'd been holding in one long stream. The shame was still washing over me in waves, enough to make my fingertips tremble. My mental fortitude was what had held me together; the original Rosetta would have genuinely burst into tears.

I need to erase it. Now.

I frantically hammered at the panel's screen. Search history, visited sites, comment logs—everything, deleted. The forum comments especially had piled up so many that every last one had to go.

I was never in those kids' league to begin with.

I don't post comment ads on the forums anymore. After cashing out big and moving, I've turned over a new leaf. As a baptism of sorts, I even changed my mana-comm ID from FloodDamageFreeTitan to Rosetta.

After all, I've got enough Titan firepower now.

According to my pre-possession memories, a dungeon would open before long. That was the entire reason I'd been stockpiling strength—to conquer that dungeon. Snatch up a few relics there and I could live off the proceeds for the rest of my life! That had been the ultimate goal of my life, the plan I'd been refining ever since the moment I possessed this body. Lately I'd even started wondering: if my retirement was this securely provided for, did I really need to go back to Earth at all?

From now on, I'll just watch from the sidelines.

No more need to circulate ads on the forums. If money ran short even after selling the relics, I could always head to the Abyss and farm. Never again would I be caught littering the boards with shitposts and comments. With that solemn vow, I began meticulously scrubbing away every embarrassing trace I'd left behind—until the sunset bleeding through the windowpane faded away, until the streetlamps of the back alley stretched their light across the hangar floor.

……

……

Click!

The hangar's iron door opened carefully only once the chill of night had settled in. Even though the moving was done, there'd been no sign of her coming back—so Marcus had crept back to check.

"Um… the unpacking is finished, ma'am."

"……"

"Are you in there?"

No answer came. Marcus swallowed dryly and surveyed the pitch-dark interior. A hangar packed with hulking Titans—each one so grotesque in appearance that merely standing near them raised goosebumps.

Anyone here?

Only then did he notice: the hatches of all eight Titans hung wide open. And not a single cockpit had anyone inside.

The others must have left.

At last, the taut tension bled out of Marcus's shoulders. So she hadn't meant to install all seven subordinates in his building too. He was still turning his head with a relieved sigh when—

Huh?

—in the corner of his vision, a figure slumped against the cold, hard wall. Thin shoulders rising and falling with each soft breath. A girl whose body forcibly shut down the moment nine o'clock struck had fallen into a deep sleep right there.

"Lady Rosetta?"

He called out softly, but she didn't stir. The moment he stepped closer, Marcus involuntarily held his breath.

"……"

A face so utterly defenseless and young—it bore no resemblance whatsoever to the menacing march from earlier. That hunched, fragile-looking form stirred something oddly protective in him. Before he knew it, Marcus found himself drifting closer still.

When she's quiet, she's almost tolerable.

He stared for a long while. It was the first time he'd seen her this close. Her features went beyond cute—they bordered on sacred. Gazing at her like this, entranced, he felt as though he could stand there beside her until dawn broke.

Damn it….

Once more, questions about her true nature blossomed in his mind. Strength enough to command seven Titan knights as her underlings. A face this guileless and innocent. And yet, every so often, those bizarre, unpredictable behaviors. How many contradictions could one small body contain?

Is this also a curse of the Abyss?

Just as he was standing there, lost in absentminded wonder, Marcus suddenly snapped to and lifted his head.

I can't figure her out.

Thirty minutes had already passed since he'd entered the hangar. Meaning he'd spent half an hour just gazing down at the girl.

Nothing for it, then.

Glancing between the nearby Titans and Rosetta, Marcus carefully bent down and lifted her up. She weighed hardly more than a handful—light enough to rest on both palms. Even as he carried her to her room, the girl slept on, blissfully unaware of the world.

Royal Guard Captain Karinne had been in a foul mood lately. Ever since the special selection exam ended, she had mobilized the Kingdom's entire intelligence network to hunt down FloodDamageFreeTitan—and hadn't found so much as a single hair.

Where did he go?

Even exercising royal authority to personally visit the registered address had yielded the same result. Nothing remained but an empty husk of scrap metal and a desolate, abandoned lot.

"……"

She replayed the battle from that day in her mind yet again.

Everything about it was abnormal.

At first, she'd taken him for an unpolished wild gem—irregular movements that disregarded efficiency and natural form entirely. But after reviewing the recorded footage several times, another possibility had emerged.

A hybrid model?

A third-generation Titan that layered manual control on top of the synchronization system. She vaguely recalled hearing rumors that the Empire was secretly researching such a thing. If true, it would partly explain the uncannily stuttering, stop-start movement. Of course, deep questions still remained unanswered.

But what about the tail?

KA-RAANG!

In her memory, the shriek of tearing metal struck her ears. The instant her greatsword was about to connect, a mechanical tail had burst from behind the scrap-metal machine's back. Its trajectory moved like a perfect living thing, catching her blade mid-swing.

The tail is impossible.

Every part of a body is organically interconnected. That is precisely why manual control can never replicate the unconscious harmony of muscle, nerve, and vestibular organs—unless the pilot is something beyond human, or possesses parallel processing power beyond human. Either way, not an ordinary existence.

What is it, exactly?

An Imperial or Theocratic spy? A tailed monster? Or something else entirely—not truly human at all?

"…!"

Ding! It was at that very moment that a sudden alarm chimed. Pulled from her reverie, Karinne checked the mana panel in her pocket.

Her Majesty, is it.

Karinne narrowed her eyes as she read the messages. In private, the Queen was ever the playful one. But to use only a single emoticon this time—that meant something truly, gravely enormous had happened.

Karinne caught her breath at the follow-up message. The Abyss—a land brimming with rare and precious resources. A dungeon was a zone within the Abyss where even more exceptional resources came into being. The rewards from a dungeon boss, in particular, were powerful enough to sway a nation's economy and technological might.

A dungeon.

A memory from the past flashed through her mind. The Kingdom's meteoric rise, too, had owed itself to the mana stone dungeon discovered by chance five years ago. The staggering quantity of mana stones that had poured from that dungeon boss, distributed generously to academy cadets and Titan knights alike, had sent the Kingdom's military power rocketing vertically—enough to rival the Theocracy.

"You must have already dispatched an expedition, then."

There was no reason to hesitate. A dungeon was a national opportunity that took precedence over everything else. She had naturally assumed the expedition would already be underway—but the typing on the other side of the screen briefly faltered.

The Theocracy….

Within the Abyss, national territories were strictly delineated. The Empire occupied the center, and the remaining nations divided up the pie along the edges. And of all places, the dungeon had to appear right on the border of the people she least wanted entangled with.

"The Kingdom must claim it first. We cannot let it be taken from us."

Karinne rose from her seat, already fastening the buttons of her uniform.

"I will prepare at once."

The mystery of FloodDamageFreeTitan could wait. Whatever his true identity was, it couldn't matter more than the existence of a dungeon.

Abyss Exploration Knight.

The weight Marcus had imagined behind that name was anything but light. Relentless, bone-grinding training. Secret missions staked on life itself. The crushing responsibility of bearing the Kingdom on one's shoulders. …At least, that's what he'd believed without a shred of doubt until a few days ago.

Sleeping till noon again today, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠see.

Even with the morning sun high overhead, the room lay silent. The girl passed out the instant nine o'clock came, yet somehow her waking hour stretched well past noon.

Maybe I should tidy up a bit.

And the state of the room—clothes and blankets strewn around the bed like shed skins. As for meals, she wouldn't so much as think about eating real food beyond the occasional snack. It had gotten to the point where he had to set meals in front of her himself, afraid she might collapse.

That lazy little brat….

The most shocking moment had come at bath time. She'd thought nothing of stripping down right then and there, no matter the place, forcing him to panic and slam the door shut in a hurry.

She'll be up soon enough.

Still, there was no need to be as wary as he'd been at the start. The girl spent most of her time planted in the display room, glued to her mana-comm panel. Sneak a sideways glance and there she was, smirking at the screen—the very picture of a jobless layabout.

After nearly a week of observing this, the question had crept in.

Is this really an Abyss Exploration Knight?

She had a Titan, so knight was probably technically correct. But what work did she actually do? No—did she work at all? He was certain he went to bed later and rose earlier than she did, yet not once had he ever seen the girl doing anything. Rather than serving some great knight, it felt more like being saddled with raising ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a child.

"By the way, Lady Rosetta… do you ever work?"

Had it really been just the first day that he'd been too afraid to even speak to her? Now that his guard had dissolved entirely, he could ask questions first.

"I handle it… myself, obviously?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Fingers locked to the mana panel, not even turning to look at him—the answer didn't even bother with courtesy. Any normal person would have wanted to throw out a freeloading brat on the spot, one who paid no rent and pulled insect habits.

And yet, strangely, she's not that hateful.

She ate about as much as a bird, so food costs were nothing. Left alone quietly, she caused no trouble. If anything…

"……"

Clink. At last, the girl scooped a single spoonful of soup just before the steam died. Watching her cheeks puff out like a squirrel's, Marcus found an absurd little laugh escaping him before he knew it. A harmless sort of chuckle.

"Oh, right… mister."

"Yes?"

Marcus blinked at the sudden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠address.

"I'll pay you… minimum wage."

What was that supposed to mean? Minimum wage?

Ding! Just as he was puzzling over it, a notification chimed. Checking the mana panel in his hand, he found a message transferred from her.

"This is…?"

"The sale proceeds…."

"Ah, the armor parts, right."

He belatedly recalled the "junk" he'd sold off. To think that heap of worthless black scrap metal had fetched 30,000 rip. Days had passed without a word and he'd assumed he was working unpaid—but apparently she did pay wages after all.

"If you don't want it… you can return it…."

"I'll gratefully accept, thank you."

A 30-rip commission on a 30,000-rip sale came to 0.1 percent of the total. Highway-robbery math, to be sure—but the base amounts were so large that it made decent pocket money. Enough to knock back a bottle of cheap whiskey, at least.

He was just smacking his lips at the thought when—

"There are part-time jobs that pay better than minimum wage…."

"I'm sorry—what?"

"Do you… need a job, mister?"