Mosquito (1)
The country I once called home had fairly distinct four seasons.
The distribution between them was messy, but it was more than enough to enjoy the romance of change.
Spring was dazzling, summer a cool poolside escape, autumn that lonely, nostalgic quiet, and winter—when snow fell—a romantic thing unto itself.
So among couples who turned every single thing into a romantic subject, the inevitable question would always come: “Which season do you like best?” and of course I gave the same answer back.
“The season I like most is summer.”
“Why?”
“I mean, it’s best to head home after dark.”
Everyone else laughed it off as a joke, but I felt like I was coughing up blood.
After years of long-term health check-ups, the very idea of summer overtime or summer-night romance had become a distant, hollow fantasy.
On one of those hazy days when romance was slipping away.
I was out on a date with my girlfriend.
Even in the sticky, humid heat, she was cradling a giant eco-bag against her chest and eating shaved ice.
“Not hot? Just put the chair down next to you.”
“No way. This is my shield.”
“Huh? Shield?”
“A mosquito shield.”
The unwelcome guest of a summer night.
No, not even a guest—just a deadly existence I wouldn’t even dignify with the word.
There had even been papers arguing that if the whole species vanished tomorrow, the planet would barely notice.
Zzzz-
A tiny, buzzing life that flew around making that one unpleasant sound after another.
Touch it on the palm and it could kill you, but because it was so small, human attacks mostly just missed.
That was deeply frustrating.
It wasn’t obviously threatening, yet it left its mark and vanished through the smallest crack, that pettiness.
And that pettiness was having a massive effect on me.
“Ah!”
She narrowed her eyes and brought her arm down, but missed.
“I got bitten.”
A small red dot had already risen on her slender, pale arm.
Laughing softly, she drew a tiny cross on the swollen bump with her nail.
That instant’s image flashed through my mind like a lightning bolt.
I should have killed it back then, no matter what.
A creature with absolutely zero use and that only inflicted harm on others.
“You can kill it without much trouble, right?”
The chairman of the Demison Group was talking about creatures like mosquitoes.
* * *
When the chairman walks into the office and immediately says something, it’s a murder request.
The Thearel case was quiet because it involved the chairman’s family, but given the current situation, why is he bringing this up?
“This is the prosecutor.”
I didn’t have any grand belief in justice, but I took pride in my own code of professional ethics.
If I hadn’t, I would have been a high-paid mercenary or a dungeon hunter long ago.
I am a freelance prosecutor in the Gilorian Empire.
“If it’s a crime, there’s more than enough of it.”
The chairman gave a faint smile.
The same smile he’d shown when giving testimony as a witness during the Thearel trial.
“And you have absolute immunity, so killing one person won’t be a problem.”
“Immunity only applies when it’s unavoidable during official duty.”
“Well, that can be manufactured, can’t it?”
The chairman straightened his gleaming charcoal suit and spoke.
Since the Thearel incident, we had met privately a few times.
A few days ago I had dinner at his invitation, and the day before that I’d drunk tea in his study, and my office was now overflowing with potted plants he’d sent.
Of course, the one hundred million Cram I earned for doing the job was already in my account the same day the case closed.
He’s polite, well-mannered, and above all, he knows how to get things done…
“Who exactly is this, then?”
The chairman throwing a murder request at me out of nowhere.
Maybe I should hear him out once.
“Not malicious. Once he bites, he won’t let go until his stomach is full—like a tick.”
The chairman slid a thin file across the desk.
The file was packed with basic personal details and the crimes he was supposed to have committed.
“Stealing a dungeon core and killing a hunter… I don’t know which one is the motive.”
Was the hunter killed to steal the core, or did he kill the hunter and keep the loot?
It doesn’t matter.
I don’t need to ask.
No matter the motive, this is a clear felony.
“I already told the deputy director Prida that I need your help.”
“Hmm… so you want an investigation into the victim, I assume.”
“That’s right. I just made an official tip to you, Chairman. The internal procedures of the Capital Defense Force have already been activated, as far as I know.”
The chairman nodded.
“And this case is going to be a special gift for you as well.”
“……”
“Of course, the monetary reward will be generous too.”
“I see.”
I looked up from the case file and met the chairman’s eyes.
“I’ll need a few preparations.”
“Of course. If it’s necessary, anything. You were famous as a dungeon hunter once, right?”
Instead of answering, I looked at the location where the tick in the file was supposedly hiding.
No, a mosquito.
Floor 4 of the dungeon.
The flame of anger I thought had been buried deep in my chest flickered.
* * *
The dungeon is packed with all kinds of monsters.
Monsters have no intelligence or reason.
They are filled only with pure malice to kill humans.
The dungeon is dark and light never reaches the deepest levels, where the air grows thinner for living things.
Of course, food and water are scarce too.
The dungeon itself was a place no human could live in from the start.
The dungeon spits out endless monsters and mercilessly slaughters outsiders who enter.
Even in the dungeon there is an ecosystem.
When monsters exceed a certain capacity, they begin to leak out a little at a time, and if left alone, the city will be destroyed by monsters.
People call it a “monster wave.”
So the first brave soul who risked his life to protect the city from monster waves, and after countless sacrifices, someone finally developed tactics for conquering the dungeon.
Or rather, they created powerful magic and weapons strong enough to fight the monsters.
Thanks to that, people no longer saw dungeon monsters as an absolute horror they couldn’t fight.
Of course, that was only true for the shallower levels.
The deeper parts of the dungeon were different.
The dungeon is full of mosquitoes.
Fugitive criminals, thieves, and swindlers.
The place where a moment of carelessness means the neck is cut off.
“Hmmm.”
The silence of the empty office pulled me back into past memories.
I didn’t want to remember, but every time I heard the word “dungeon,” those terrifying memories came flooding back unbidden.
I had once been a dungeon hunter.
I led a team called Team Blood.
We—Team Blood—had written the first and greatest record of dungeon hunting in the Gilorian Empire.
Most dungeon explorations, largest monster extermination, seven great mysterious monsters subdued, imperial honorable medals, and so on.
The empire had cheered for us and showered us with praise from countless dungeon hunters.
On days we went into the dungeon, the central square of Clovan City would be packed with people.
Colorful flags and banners fluttered, and cheers and shouts rang out everywhere.
“Dad, when I grow up I’m joining Team Blood!”
“Our son, those people are really amazing.”
The future dream of any child was to join Team Blood, and parents looked at their children with loving eyes.
“Clap for the dedication of Team Blood.”
“Team Blood, the great heroes of the Gilorian Empire.”
“Team Blood!”
“Team Blood!”
“Team Blood!”
The tens, hundreds, thousands of clapping hands from the gathered crowd kept coming.
The sound of palms slapping together spread through every corner of the city streets.
That day had been incredibly lucky.
We had progressed smoothly to the 8th floor, and the 9th floor—the final hurdle—was right in front of us.
“Boss, today’s luck is insane.”
“If this keeps up, Team Blood is going to set a new record for the most floors explored in Gilorian Empire history—first to conquer the 9th floor.”
“Kroo, this feels good.”
“I wonder how proud my daughter Daisy will be when she sees Dad.”
In the eyes of the 2-meter-tall knight Vincent, the love for his newly acquired daughter overflowed.
“Daisy doesn’t get scared when she sees Dad?”
“Yeah. She’d probably call me ‘Troll’ before ‘Dad’.”
“Hahaha, that’s fair.”
Vincent bent his giant frame and kissed the pendant hanging around his neck— a photo of a happy family engraved on it.
“I think I’ll retire after this one.”
Vincent muttered quietly.
“The thought of staying away from home for so long bothers me, and most of all, I just want to watch my daughter grow up beside me.”
He must have thought it over for a long time.
He probably couldn’t even imagine Team Blood without himself in it.
“And since Zeo, our boss, is so capable, he could probably handle it alone. This team has nothing for the knights to do.”
Vincent grinned, showing his teeth.
“Yeah, true. How many monsters did you solo on the 7th floor alone?”
“I just swung my greatsword and it was like a ghost was flying with me.”
“The mages have nothing to do.”
“The defenders have nothing to do.”
“The dealers have nothing to do.”
“The clerics have nothing to do either.”
“We’re just on a sightseeing tour.”
Everyone around me shook their heads.
The mood flipped in an instant to something light and cheerful.
I smiled at my teammates.
“Whoa, the boss is smiling. It’s nice to see.”
“Who would say no when you’re getting fed?”
We were the team that had first conquered the 8th floor of the Hellish Clovan Dungeon in the history of the Gilorian Empire.
What was remarkable was that no casualties had ever occurred during our campaigns.
“Rest for a bit, do maintenance, and we’ll head to the 9th floor in four hours.”
I told everyone and lay down on the spot.
The dungeon was structured so that it connected downward into the deepest levels, locked in deep darkness on all sides.
But for a few hours a day, there were flowers that gave off faint light and opened up a breathtaking view.
Now was the time when the flowers blooming with light had withered and were floating up into the sky.
The sight of flower buds filled with light drifting up into the sky in a dreamy, mystical way was more beautiful than any word could describe.
“Retirement…”
I had thought about it before.
After I retired from being a dungeon hunter, living my own life, meeting up once a month, having picnics in a forested area, raising a family, and smiling at the children.
That kind of life wasn’t bad either.
After all, I would still be with my teammates.
The flowers drifting up into the sky disappeared into the focal point of light.
I closed my eyes in the complete darkness as I followed the last traces of light.
Thud. Thud.
I fell asleep with the sound of my heartbeat as background music.
And that was the end of my luck.
And the end of my life as a dungeon hunter.
On that day I lost every teammate and returned alone.
That was my last memory and record from the dungeon.
Since then I had never entered the dungeon again.
* * *
“Good morning.”
Mariann entered the office with a bright, cheerful greeting.
As a new hire, she had been running around taking on a lot of work lately.
Three months had passed since then.
Yesterday I had removed her trainee prosecutor badge and assigned her official prosecutor status.
She had been on vacation for several days while the entire Capital Defense Force new hire orientation was in full swing.
It must have done her good for the mood.
Mariann plopped down into her chair, shoving aside the magic-circle-like office equipment spread across the desk.
Thanks to that, the chair wheels rolled back and crashed into the bookshelf.
Kong.
“Ah! Iko.”
“It seems Prosecutor Mariann has arrived for work.”
Even today, the sharp-suited office manager Piaje entered with his usual crisp morning greeting in a white shirt.
He too had taken several days off for a seminar on advanced metal evaluation and fine processing techniques.
“Oh, right! Senior, a gift for you. This is for Manager Piaje.”
A badge featuring the face of a hero in front of the Capital Defense Force building and a fountain pen.
The badge was placed in front of me, the fountain pen in front of Piaje.
“A fountain pen?”
Piaje picked it up and asked.
“I picked the most expensive one I could find.”
Mariann raised her thumb and gave a cool smile.
The morning sunlight coming through the window reflected off her silver hair.
Her silver hair suited her emerald-green eyes perfectly.
“I don’t usually use mass-produced items…”
“What? You don’t know what kind of curse comes if an elf refuses a gift?”
“Prosecutor, are you an elf? You seem to curse more than orcs.”
“Senior, did you hear that? He’s a full-blown racist—Senior? Senior?”
Mariann’s playful voice and Piaje’s indifferent tone overlapped like a greeting, and the world sharpened back into focus.
“Ah. Yeah?”
“It’s a gift. A gift. Wait, what were you doing all weekend to be this spaced out?”
Mariann pointed at the badge on my desk and said.
“I was dreaming.”
“What?”
“I was dreaming all weekend.”
Yeah, a dream-like past.
I wish it had been just a dream.
After I parted ways with the chairman of the Demison Group, I had locked myself in my room for the entire weekend.
I slept almost the whole time and kept reliving the dreams of the dungeon.
When I opened my eyes lightly, something shiny and small caught my attention.
“A badge?”
“Yes, it’s a badge. For checking purposes.”
“Huh?”
“I’m checking if you change into a suit.”
Mariann giggled with her hands over her eyes.
“Senior, you only have one suit, right? It always looks the same. I bought five badges—stick them on your jacket. I’ll keep an eye on whether you change.”
Mariann covered her eyes with both hands, then pointed them at me.
I repeated the motion twice.
The feeling was like air slowly escaping a swollen chest.
If I dared to feel this comfortable, it would cast a shadow in my heart, but since I had decided to live, I would live.
“It looks like Senior is touched.”
Mariann said with a teasing tone.
“Prosecutors aren’t moved by things like that.”
Piaje muttered and opened the first drawer, pulling out a sleek black box.
Inside was something that looked like a soft leather pouch containing the fountain pen.
The sound of people’s laughter spread out in a wide circle within the cubic weapon-space.
The people had peaceful smiles on their faces that didn’t suit me.
Squeak. Squeak.
“Prosecutor, it seems a new case has been assigned.”
Piaje shot up from his seat at the regular notification sound and rushed to the desk-mounted dungeon core receiver, tapping the screen.
“Special mission: dungeon core robbery-murder kidnapping case.”
I was entering the dungeon again.