Righteous Resolution
“Ah, how boring.”
Marian stretched her arms with a long yawn as she spoke.
Seven hours had passed. That was two more than the original estimate of five.
We had missed an entire train at Bloomingdale Transfer Station because Piaget’s secretary insisted on her train-obsessed rants.
“But how could we possibly pass up such an opportunity…”
What was it again?
The masterpiece of the greatest dwarf artisan, Kurthal, the steam-power hybrid locomotive?
A perfect harmony of centuries of dwarf craftsmanship and magic, passing by right in front of us…
Modern pure-mana trains couldn’t even imitate that heavy, resonant rumble…
He had talked so much I still remembered it all, even if I didn’t understand half of it.
Sitting on the platform, I waited for my romantic train and missed our destination train.
Thanks to that, we missed the Shadow Gate Species Collaboration Center shuttle as well.
“Since we missed it, let’s eat and head out.”
We were at the Shadow Gate train station.
We entered the restaurant right next to the station.
“Gyak. Welcome. Please, come right in.”
A clean-hatted goblin received our order. His bent hand wore a sanitary glove.
“As expected, Shadow Gate follows its species-diversity policy well.”
Marian watched the goblin receiving orders with clear satisfaction.
Shadow Gate—named after its gate—was once infamous as a monster-spawning labyrinth.
Not impenetrable monsters pouring out like an ant swarm, but tiny monsters flooding out in droves, according to records.
The goblin’s voice came again. It was the same one who had taken our order.
“P-please order. The capybara skewer is ready. Gyak.”
What Piaget’s secretary received was a skewer of barely-cooked meat and, beside it, neatly arranged chigger hair like garnish.
“…”
“Senior, I’ll use the restroom.”
Marian left the table abruptly. I followed her gaze out the window.
On the road below, monsters were performing social-reform tasks. Goblins swept streets while massive orcs carried and planted trees.
“Inspector, are you not eating this? It tastes surprisingly good.”
Piaget, with a stomach of steel, plucked the capybara hair from her lips and spoke.
“This place made a fortune taming monsters, didn’t it?”
Correct.
Shadow Mountains were famous for their enormous mineral-stone deposits. But the problem was the monster labyrinth.
Serious discussions had been held about abandoning the rich highland because monsters poured out endlessly despite repeated extermination.
But humans are stubborn creatures. Especially when money is involved, they will find a way.
A brilliant idea emerged: “Let’s persuade the monsters.”
Operation name: Monster Taming.
Just as early Earth humans tamed wolves and created dogs that became humanity’s companions, they wanted to tame low-impact monsters like goblins and orcs.
Of course, at first it was dismissed as the ramblings of a lunatic whose brain had been damaged by monsters. Or perhaps a misunderstanding that they were agents of intelligent monsters.
In any case, those who could not abandon mineral-stone mining joined the madman’s dance. After all, trying wouldn’t cost anything.
The first step of Monster Taming was gathering and containment.
The infamous “Monster Pen Operation.”
Whoever thought of catching and persuading monsters was brimming with humanity. Humans never take the long, hard way when an easy path exists.
First, gather them and lock them up.
The first targets were goblins that had spilled out of the labyrinth and goblins who had gotten lost inside it.
Goblins, with their slightly lower intelligence, were easy to lure and trap. Toss leftover food near a trap net and they would crawl right in. Some records even said they never bothered to close the nets; later, simply timing the food drops meant they set up house there.
The second operation was the real “Monster Taming.”
Monsters moved to human settlements were locked in iron cages without food. They were fed only when they showed signs of hunger, creating Pavlovian conditioning.
But it failed. The monsters chose to starve instead.
A different approach emerged: thorough brainwashing.
Torture magic was cast so they stopped screaming only when fed. The carrot-and-stick of this world would eventually break them to humans, they reasoned.
But it failed too. These friends were remarkably pain-resistant.
Then one lucky discovery: young monsters could be tamed relatively easily.
That was the final method attempted.
Exact details are lost to time, but what is known is that monsters in the region began obeying humans without resistance afterward. Goblin and orc adaptability was especially high.
Shadow Gate successfully controlled and tamed the labyrinth monsters. They became the Empire’s premier mineral and fossil-fuel mining district.
Here, annual production of minerals and fossil fuels accounts for one-fifth of the entire Empire territory.
Because the endless monster influx created a mining city through the brilliant pivot of Monster Taming, it settled into a mid-sized city of 400,000 population.
For that achievement, the family that once proposed the “mad” but ultimately revolutionary idea of taming monsters received some of the land as a fiefdom. They became a family that “breaks wind” with exaggerated flair.
Now that family has abandoned the barbaric term “Monster Taming” and created the elevated catchphrase “Socialization of Monsters.”
And now their descendant has come to greet us. He looked at our table and said one line.
“Eh? Do you find goblin snacks delicious in the capital?”
“…”
* * *
“I thought you wouldn’t make it today.” A handsome man with a charming smile greeted us.
His name was Lynel Burayton.
Descendant of the family that succeeded in monster socialization.
He is a tycoon responsible for twenty percent of the Empire’s entire mineral supply, yet he wore plain linen clothes. Of course, the family crest was embroidered in fine silver thread, but overall his appearance was surprisingly modest.
“I am Zeo Blood, inspector of the Capital Defense Command. My apologies for being late due to circumstances.”
“Not at all. It must have been difficult reaching such a remote place.”
His family succeeded through violence and coercion. Of course, there were many horrors beyond that.
There were serious methodological flaws, but I cannot dismiss it entirely for attempting to coexist with instinct-driven species. After all, the world ultimately nurtures coexistence through mutual understanding and turns it into prosperity.
In any case, the Gilorian Empire highly values the Burayton family that succeeded in monster socialization.
“This is our region’s pride: the goblin staff member. He is a citizen of the same Empire.”
Beside Lynel stood a goblin smiling with proud composure.
He bowed to us.
“Gyak.”
“Haha. This friend is not yet fluent in Imperial language. He graduated from school not long ago.”
“Is there a school for goblins?”
Piaget asked, and Lynel answered with his signature charming smile.
“Of course. Shadow Gate has the Monster Socialization Education School run by the Burayton Foundation. It is not an official Imperial school, but it has received private certification from the Ministry of Education.”
“I see.”
He waved away his crumpled hat as if it were nothing, but establishing a school proved his family’s steady investment in socialized monsters.
Shadow Gate had systematically operated community life with monsters.
That was why the Empire-wide TFT for realizing coexistence society was likely held here.
“First, please follow me to the accommodation. Today, the orc chef has prepared a specially made banquet. It will rival the finest restaurants in Clovan City.”
“Can orcs even cook?”
Piaget asked with surprise. It was hard to imagine a three-toed orc delicately cutting vegetables.
“Of course. Orcs are incredibly skilled.”
A subtle pride was evident in his voice.
As if to prove his words, socialized monsters were working at every corner of the station.
We watched them curiously for a moment, except Marian.
She frowned and muttered in a low voice only we could hear.
“They’re bragging like well-trained pets.”
* * *
We rode Lynel’s carriage to his mansion. We greeted arriving Imperial bureaucrats, settled our luggage in nearby accommodations, and relaxed.
Before we knew it, evening had arrived. We moved to his home.
And dinner began.
“Lynel wasn’t exaggerating.”
Piaget ate contentedly and spoke.
True.
The food was excellent, and the monsters were awkward but adapting in their own ways.
The orc chef carefully handled plates as if defusing bombs to avoid breaking them.
The hobgoblin waiter served food with awareness of his rough skin.
Of course, some customers’ clothes still got torn, but when that happened, the greeting “Gyak. Sorry, customer. Gyak” came naturally. Though mechanical, like an audio trigger.
Incidentally, Marian did not attend dinner that night.
“Suppressing instinct is violence.”
She said that and locked herself in her room. She did not come out.
* * *
The next day.
The planned schedule began. It was tight.
In the morning, the founding ceremony of the Empire-wide TFT for realizing coexistence society took place.
We had a heartfelt conversation with representatives from various government departments.
Then the serious meeting began.
The Species Integration Committee chairman declared the meeting open.
Agenda: “Should slimes be included among socialization target species?” and “Deciding the content of rights declaration for socialized monster species.”
He began speaking, flicking his notably long nose over his shoulder.
Note: the Species Integration Committee chairman is an elephant demi-human. A purple elephant demi-human from head to toe.
“Currently, the Gilorian Empire is seeking harmony with various species, but the situation is difficult.”
The difficulties concerned monster instincts.
We must integrate monsters whose instinct is hostility toward humans inside the labyrinth into Imperial life.
To do that, we must—unavoidably—suppress their instincts. As Marian said.
“Regarding this, some groups have voiced concerns about violating basic monster rights, but I believe it is a compromise unavoidable in the face of coexistence.”
In other words, “Monsters, just bear it.”
Well, that is not entirely wrong.
We cannot melt into Imperial life while retaining our boiling hostility toward humans.
But we cannot ignore means and methods simply because the purpose is righteous.
In Clovan City, memory-reconstruction magic and hostility-erasure magic have been used to remove hostility.
But it has many side effects.
The side effect is that it must be performed on all monsters.
That means even descendants of monsters who have lived as Imperial citizens for decades must receive the magic. Magic is not hereditary through DNA.
That is why “mineral-stone-neural connection surgery” was chosen.
A brain-surgical procedure where specially made mineral-stones are implanted near the amygdala, the emotional center of monsters. When excessive aggression or hostility manifests, it automatically triggers calming effects.
Descendants who receive this surgery can be born with reduced hostility toward humans due to brain DNA changes.
After systematic education and positive experiences with humans, they undergo gradual social-adaptation training and become Imperial citizens.
Lynel began explaining the current situation at Shadow Gate.
“Shadow Gate requires more than the mineral-stone-neural connection surgery performed in Clovan City. Monsters that have emerged from the labyrinth here have stronger blind hostility toward humans.”
“And with so many monsters, the cost is high, isn’t it?”
TFT committee members nodded in empathy for the difficulty.
Actually, Lynel’s words were not mere exaggeration. There are monsters born here among the species, but the number of monsters that have just emerged from the labyrinth is also large.
By ratio, it is roughly 6:4.
And the brain-surgical procedure performed in Clovan City must be done by specialists.
“Cost is one issue, but young specialists don’t come to such remote places.”
Lynel smiled bitterly.
Therefore, hostility-erasure magic must be performed on socialized monsters that have just emerged from the labyrinth.
After that, mineral-stone-neural connection surgery is performed on socialized monsters across two generations.
Marian raised her hand.
“Then, monsters living in the labyrinth must not have the will to be socialized, right?”
Everyone looked at Marian as if she were asking nonsense.
They were discussing surgery, cost, and manpower shortage. Suddenly asking about monsters’ will to socialize…
But the question was valid.
What we were discussing was none other than the basic rights of socialized monsters—the Monster Magna Carta.
The Species Integration Committee chairman released a “hnnk” from his long nose and answered.
“Of course, socialization was not initially based on the monsters’ autonomous will, but we have coexisted through the method of socialization. Discussing whether their will is now voluntary would be meaningless. Hnnk!”
“Eh? Then why are we all gathered here? Isn’t this… a place where we discuss efficient taming methods for monsters…?”
“Hnnk! Hnnk!”
The Species Integration Committee chairman, unable to think of a proper reply, simply hnnked repeatedly.
At that moment, Lynel began speaking with an exaggerated laugh to lighten the tense atmosphere.
“Haha. Of course, if it were up to the monsters’ instincts, they would want to eat us. They see humans as food.”
Lynel chuckled and leaned back.
He was a master of emotional appeal.
Of course, emotional appeal is not my style. But one cannot deny that it is an effective strategy.
“Who is that woman?”“Then are they telling us to become monsters’ food?”“That woman is crazy.”“Capital Defense Command inspector? Are hiring standards not in place lately?”
Already, murmurs were spreading from every corner.
Because here, not only Empire department personnel but also reporters and citizen representatives from major newspapers had come.
But Marian would not back down here.
“At the very least, you could give them some choice, couldn’t you?”
“Hnnk! Inspector Marian. Please be more specific. Hnnk!”
“You could create a buffer zone between the labyrinth and the city, giving them enough time to gradually merge, and then allow them to choose. Whether to live in the labyrinth while keeping their instincts or to adapt and live in our Empire.”
“But there could be problems from monster outflows in between. Hnnk! The Empire’s history is full of dangerous cases. Hnnk!”
“No… if you only think about the danger, there is only one method. Won’t it be better to completely seal the source?”
“Completely seal the source? Hnnk!”
The chairman stretched his long nose arrogantly and opened his eyes as if to say “go ahead and try.”
“You can simply seal the entrance of the Shadow Gate labyrinth. If the labyrinth itself is dangerous, isn’t it safer to block it entirely and create a barrier?”
The meeting room fell silent.
Discussions like this were silent because no one wanted them to unfold that way.
The Species Integration Committee chairman continued. His purple nose tip had turned red.
“That is not realistic. Have you forgotten that this region’s mineral production accounts for one-fifth of the Empire’s total?”
“Then is the chairman’s goal coexistence, or is it pure economic exploitation?”
Reporters’ hands began typing furiously at Marian’s words. Some nodded.
But every matter has a higher purpose.
This Gilorian Empire has sacrificed families and friends in endless battles with monsters since its founding.
Therefore, empathizing with their pain and blocking the tragedy at its source is the Empire’s higher purpose.
And they enjoy the thought that monsters who caused their tragedy deserve to suffer.
Perhaps, from the reporters’ hands, headlines like “Is the Capital Defense Command’s friendly-to-monsters stance okay?”, “Capital Defense Command announces stance: will lead future increases in monster wages!” were already being typed.
From that perspective, Marian’s claim could only be dismissed as radical nonsense from a spoiled person.
“Hmm… it seems Inspector Marian has no family who sacrificed to monsters.”
And the seasoned Species Integration Committee chairman had caught it perfectly.
“You have never experienced cold or hunger either.”
His large nose curled into a circle. As a person, it looked like he was cupping his chin with his hand.
The Species Integration Committee chairman precisely saw through Marian’s congenital weakness. She is a high elf from the upper echelons of society. And from a very wealthy chaebol family at that.
Marian’s eyes narrowed.
“So you rejected the buffer zone alternative?”
The chairman tried to ignore it, but it was a realistic option. It was about drawing a line between boundaries.
Inside the labyrinth, not outside where people live.
In that case, sudden monster appearances would also be prevented, and monster labor could continue to be expanded as before.
But it still fell short of appealing to Imperial citizens’ sentiment.
A strange sound burst from the chairman’s nose again. Whether the words were blocked or the nose was blocked, it was unclear.
At that moment, Lynel stood up.
“Committee members, wouldn’t it be better to see the actual site instead of discussing here? Please listen to the stories of the domesticated goblins and orcs directly.”
The place he suggested was none other than the mineral mine. The place where the most domesticated monsters were employed, living and working.
The chairman flicked his nose and continued.
“A good idea.”
A vague sense began that he would be severely scolded by Frida’s director.