Chapter 39 - Dungeon Core Meeting (Part 2)
I figured I should start by introducing myself to the two figures—the dungeon core and her master—who had just appeared before me.
“Good evening, I’m ****—?!”
Suddenly, my body froze mid-sentence.
“Huh? Master! Were you about to say your real name just now?! Your true name should only be known to me, remember? You’re the Hot Spring Dungeon Master of Sepans, and that’s all anyone else needs to know, got it?”
It was like I’d been paralyzed the moment I tried to speak my name. My whole body buzzed and my voice just stopped.
Did Peta-chan do something?
“Hahaha! Sepans’ grub, you didn’t even teach him that? If you want to maintain your soul contract with a core, you can’t let other cores learn your real name. That’s why we can’t use the souls of famous scholars or celebrities from this world—they’re way too risky.”
The voluptuous, dark-skinned demoness adorned in glittering gemstones gave a hearty laugh as she explained. I didn’t fully understand it, but apparently, those were the rules.
Oh, so that’s why they always summon dungeon masters from another world.
If they chose merchants or nobles from this world, there’s no telling when or where their real names would get exposed—and then the soul contract might collapse like a house of cards.
“I see. Well then, I’m the Hot Spring Dungeon master of Sepans. Nice to meet you both. So, you’re both from Gem Dungeon?”
“Yeah, I scrapped my old gem dungeon ages ago. It only ever spat out random, half-assed gems, got stuck at the seventh floor, and no one visits it anymore. No point in keeping dead weight.”
The Gem Dungeon demoness laughed loudly.
She seemed the easygoing and reckless type—this tanned, busty woman.
“Judging from how many points it takes just to talk with us, I’d say you’ve reached eleven floors? And it’s been less than a year since you became a master? Damn, that’s impressive.”
“And to think you two manage your dungeons separately, yet you’re already at eleven floors within a year? That’s quite the achievement. What sort of person were you in your previous life, Master-san?”
“Pffft, I scouted him by searching for the soul of a brilliant young entrepreneur—someone who had turned multiple businesses into huge successes and had experience governing a large city. Surprisingly, I found one pretty easily!”
...What?
What kind of ludicrous search parameters are those? A genius merchant who also successfully ran a city?
That sounds like someone putting in a dating profile: ‘Looking for a hot, rich doctor with a heart of gold and a six-pack.’
Okay, look. Sure, back when I was alive and healthy, I worked for a business consultancy firm. I got sent around to help franchise stores, restaurants, and general stores turn things around using methods passed down from top-tier CEOs.
But calling me a brilliant entrepreneur who’s led countless businesses to success is more than a little misleading. I just followed the playbook and helped streamline things, that’s all!
And what’s this about governing a city? I’ve never been a damn mayor! That must’ve been from some video game!
What, did you see me build a thriving metropolis of 600,000 in some sim game and decide that made me qualified?!
Was I seriously chosen as your master based on that kind of ridiculous logic?! Your search filter sucks!!
“A brilliant merchant and an experienced politician... at your age? Just what the hell are you, man?”
The busty, dark-skinned demoness looked at me in amazement—but frankly, I was the one who wanted to ask that.
“Hmm...? That is quite the résumé. What nation do you hail from, if I may ask? Judging by your appearance, I would guess you’re of Asian descent...?”
The blonde man in the silk hat—who talked like a shady foreigner—asked me with a hint of uncertainty.
“Well, I’m Japanese. A good old-fashioned nihonjin. And you? I take it you were a European jeweler?”
“Indeed. I was once a jeweler and gem-cutter in England. Unfortunately, I died young... likely due to the dust in the workshop affecting my lungs.
“Still, I’m grateful to be able to continue my craft like this, even after death, thanks to our contract.”
He seemed a little relieved when he heard I was Japanese. What, would it have been a problem if I was some other kind of Asian?
“England, huh? I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with your country.”
“And I, likewise, know little of Japan. Your land has been blocking foreign ships for some time now. What I do know is that you have plentiful gold reserves, and a line of kings under someone named Tokugawa.”
...Wait. What did this guy just say?
Tokugawa?!
What era are you from!?
Don’t tell me... this guy isn’t even from modern times!?
Let’s see... If it’s the Tokugawa shogunate, that puts him somewhere between 1600 and 1860. That’s... a wide range. But given the mention of Japan’s isolationist policies, he’s probably from the mid to late Edo period.
And if I recall correctly, the late 1700s to early 1800s in England was around the Industrial Revolution. Maybe I can bait him into confirming.
“Ah yes, I’ve only heard that Britain was going through a chaotic period of civilizational change due to the development of steam engines and the Industrial Revolution.”
“Yes, precisely. I believe I passed away just as those upheavals began to settle down. But, well... such matters didn’t concern me much. I was wholly devoted to gems.”
Yup, that seals it—this guy was clearly from the late Edo period, probably around the time the shogunate was crumbling. Right around the chaos of the Opium Wars, no less. That explained why he looked so relieved earlier when he learned I was Japanese—someone from Asia who hadn’t really clashed with the British.
He must’ve completely misunderstood me, thinking I was some young, savvy merchant-turned-statesman or something (LOL). If I’d been on the receiving end of the colonial mess, who knows what accusations he might’ve thrown at me—even if he was just a random jeweler with nothing to do with it.
Well, one thing was certain—he definitely wasn’t from a time when running a dungeon was as simple as pulling up a monitor and toggling options. There was no way someone from his era had the kind of hands-on, streamlined dungeon management I was doing.
In other words, he probably wasn’t doing things like eavesdropping on visitors’ conversations, watching them, managing dungeon points, or personally overseeing every aspect of construction—like I was.
Most likely, he was purely a gem artisan—one who offered only his expertise in gemstones to the Dungeon Core.
In other words, he was probably like a jeweler from the 1800s who cared nothing for dungeon management and devoted himself solely to studying gem cutting. If that were the case, then I had a potential bargaining chip.
“Well then, allow me to explain. The Dungeon Core I manage—what we call the ‘No-Hunger Dungeon’—produces not just food but also gemstones. I’ve called you today hoping you could tell me about a few valuable gems that haven’t been discovered or mined elsewhere yet.”
“You think we’d just tell you!?”
The voluptuous, dark-skinned demon woman snapped at me.
Well, yeah. Of course they wouldn’t just hand over critical dungeon intel—essentially the seeds for generating points—for free.
“Naturally, I’m prepared to offer something in return. I can teach you a new gem cutting technique. You see, I come from a world just a little further into the future than yours, and I happen to know one of the most advanced modern cuts.”
As I spoke, I casually pulled out a diamond I had just made earlier. It was most likely shaped in what we know as the ideal cut. That’s the image that instinctively comes to mind whenever we think of a diamond today.
The Ideal Cut, which had become the standard for diamonds in the modern era, had apparently been invented about a hundred years ago—sometime in the early 1900s, or so I vaguely remembered from a documentary on educational television.
My memory was fuzzy, sure, but I was confident that a gem cutter from the 1800s wouldn’t know this particular style.
This cut had reigned supreme as the standard for diamonds for over a century. A true jeweler should be able to recognize its brilliance at a glance. For me, it was just the default way a diamond should look—nothing more, nothing less.
“Wh-What is this?! A diamond, yes?! It looks like a refined version of the latest Mine Cut, or perhaps the European Cut... but no, this is something else entirely! The brilliance has been drawn out to its absolute limit!”
...What the hell’s a Mine Cut or a European Cut? I had no clue. I didn’t know what any of that meant, but I got the idea—they were old cutting styles. Yeah, sure, that tracked.
At least the guy’s eyes were sparkling now. Clearly, he understood just how special this diamond was.
I pulled the gem back out of sight.
“W-Wait! Please, let me examine it just a little longer!”
“In that case, how about this—give me a few examples of gemstones you know of that haven’t been registered in any dungeon yet. Grant me the rights to produce them in the No-Hunger Dungeon, and I’ll hand this diamond over to you. Study it all you want.”
“Deal!!”
“Hey, what?!”
The tanned, big-breasted demoness hurriedly tried to stop the conversation.
“It’s no problem, Tanya-san! Even if you break gemstones down by color and brilliance, there are still hundreds of types! Our dungeon can only produce about seventy kinds at best right now! Transferring the rights to a few unregistered ones won’t cause any problems at all!”
Tanya? Was that a nickname like how I called my core “Peta-chan”? “Gem Dungeon Core” or “Suntanned Boob Demon” didn’t exactly roll off the tongue, so maybe he just went with something easier to say.
“I’m glad to hear you say that. We truly look forward to offering the beautiful gems you select with your exquisite taste here in our dungeon as well.”
I didn’t want him handing over cheap-looking gems just because he thought I couldn’t tell the difference, so I made sure to phrase it in a way that would light a fire under his artisan spirit.
If he handed over low-grade stones now, it would be as good as declaring to the world that his gem-choosing sense was nothing to write home about.
“I can’t hand over the rights to the top-tier gems, of course, but I’ll provide something worthy of my name.”
And with that, I acquired about four kinds of gemstones. He gave me their names too, but I hadn’t even heard of a single one of them before. As for their actual value... well, I’d just have to rely on his pride and conscience.
“In return, I’ll provide you with these diamonds from our side. I hope they’ll prove useful as a reference for your gem-crafting endeavors.”
With that, I took out a selection of diamonds in various sizes and handed them over. The moment he received them, the blonde in the silk hat began tilting them toward the light from every angle, letting out an entranced sigh as he admired their sparkle.
Watching that master gem artisan behave like that, the demon girl—Tanya or whatever her name really was—looked on with a dissatisfied expression, like she felt she’d somehow been used without realizing it.
“Well then, that concludes our deal. Thank you for your time.”
With those parting words, I cut off the communication. We’d talked for about twenty minutes, and it had only cost me around 80,000 points. Not a bad deal at all.
...Still, I couldn’t believe the master of the Gem Dungeon was someone from two hundred years ago.
If that were the case, then what about the Thread Dungeon Master in the Kingdom of Dolpins? For all I knew, that person might’ve lived during the Silk Road era.
Even if a modern-day tailor who worked with mass-produced thread and cloth had been summoned, I seriously doubted they’d have chosen thread and fabric as their dungeon’s primary resources.
Back when I first heard about the Thread Dungeon, I was impressed by the originality of the idea—but thinking about it calmly, there was no way that was a dungeon conceived with a modern mindset.
It made a lot more sense to think it was built by an ancient merchant who literally staked their life on the thread and cloth trade.
“Hey, Master... that gem cutting thing? Was it really okay to teach that to the Gem Dungeon?”
“Hmm? Well, it should be fine. That cut was designed specifically based on the refractive index of diamonds, so unless you’re using it on a diamond, it’s not gonna have the same effect anyway.”
“...But to get diamonds, you’d have to negotiate with six different Dungeon Cores, right? So basically, there’s no way they can actually produce them. In that case, I guess that cut’s pretty much useless to us too?”
“Not exactly.”
I took out two stones—both cut in the same ideal fashion as the diamond I’d shown earlier.
“These, we can produce in our dungeon. And more importantly, that Master over there can’t.”
“They look like the same diamonds from before. How are you even planning to produce those? You can’t just bypass the dungeon’s rules and make them drop randomly, you know?”
“Then why don’t you check whether these two stones are registered as drop items in any other dungeon?”
Peta-chan examined both stones. The system showed that neither was listed in any dungeon database.
“Huh? Why not?”
“Because they’re not diamonds. One’s cubic zirconia, and the other’s moissanite.”
Both were artificial diamond substitutes created with modern science—cheap alternatives you could buy on online marketplaces back home. There was no way an 1800s-era gem artisan would know anything about lab-grown stones.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have known either if I hadn’t done some research for work on imitation gems used for store displays.
“...They don’t look any different from diamonds.”
“Yeah, aside from the level of impurities, I doubt there’s much difference.”
“They’ve got impurities? Doesn’t that make them cheap knockoffs, then?”
“I won’t deny they’re cheap, but ironically, they actually have fewer impurities than natural diamonds.”
Peta-chan gave me a look like, What are you even saying?—and frankly, I wasn’t totally sure either.
I didn’t know all the science behind it, but in the modern world, the price difference between natural and synthetic diamonds was huge, even though their quality was practically the same. From what I’d heard, lab-grown diamonds were virtually indistinguishable in terms of appearance and performance.
And in this world—where synthetic diamonds weren’t even a thing—there was a decent chance that stones like zirconia and moissanite, with fewer impurities and stronger brilliance, would actually be considered superior.
To begin with, these gemstones were essentially made by kneading mana together—so what did it even matter whether they were natural or artificial? Thinking about the value difference between the two was a surefire way to get lost in confusion.
I decided to just let the surface-dwellers figure it out for themselves.
All I needed was for the other dungeons to recognize these as non-diamond gemstones that just happened to look like diamonds.
“Well, that gives us a few fresh drop item options, at least. We’ve got some new gemstone material now, so the No-Hunger Dungeon won’t be hurting for update ideas for a while. Oh, and make sure gems only drop very occasionally. For the common stuff, just toss in some new food items.”
“New food drops, huh...? Then maybe I’ll throw in chocolate. Like, you collect enough chocolate and occasionally get a gem as a surprise.”
“Hmm... yeah, that works.”
It sounded like some kind of snack giveaway gimmick where the real prize was the collectible inside.
“Make sure to drop one or two gems early on, just to get people hooked. After that, even if tons of visitors flood in, one gem every two weeks is fine.”
“That stingy, huh?”
“No, it has to be that stingy. Still, since they’ll be getting chocolate and maybe pepper as regular drops, people won’t complain much.”
And just like that, it was decided: on the tenth floor of the No-Hunger Dungeon, a new resource would be introduced—one of the gems I’d received from the Gem Dungeon Master... along with chocolate.
“Hmmm... It’s so beautiful. I wonder just how many calculations led to this particular cut...”
The master of the Gem Dungeon had been admiring the diamond he’d received from the Hot Spring Dungeon Master for quite some time.
As for the Gem Dungeon Core, all she could do was watch her master gaze at the jewel in fascination. After all, she had no real grasp of what made a gemstone valuable. She didn’t even understand what was so special about the one they’d just received.
Still, even with her limited understanding, she could tell that the jewel sparkled brighter than anything she had ever seen before. That had to mean it was impressive—probably.
Her role, really, was only to produce the gemstones the master crafted and assign them to the dungeon’s drop table. She wasn’t in any position to weigh in on the creation process itself.
What was within her ability was to wear the master’s gemstones as accessories and allow the master to assess their quality as decorative pieces.
And beyond that, her job was to design a dungeon that would lure adventurers—make them fight, bleed, die—and in doing so, generate a greater yield of dungeon points.
Of course, if the traps were too lethal and the death toll too high, no one would come anymore, so the balance was tricky.
Starting around the 14th floor, lone adventurers—the thug-like types—were becoming less effective. Ideally, they’d reach the point soon where proper national forces, like knight orders, began to take interest.
But producing gemstones refined enough to be deemed valuable by a kingdom—like the one the core wore now—wasn’t going to happen until around the 20th floor.
Apparently, the Thread Dungeon, the first to adopt the human master system, had prompted a military response much earlier in its progression. But seriously—thread and cloth? What the hell kind of value did those things have?
Judging by how badly humans seemed to want them—and their market price—gemstones clearly held far more value. That’s why the core had chosen to seek out the soul of a master jeweler from the start.
Even when she asked her own master about it, the response had been: “Ah yes, thread and fabric, huh? Hmm, hard to beat that one, honestly,”—and he’d chuckled.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?! I don’t get it! Weren’t gemstones supposed to be the most expensive thing around?
Then why weren’t they good enough?
And so, with a thought process that ran in perfect inverse proportion to her bust size, the Gem Dungeon Core grumbled.
“Hey! Master!”
“Hmm... Adjusting the pavilion depth ruins the perfect angles of refraction and reflection—”
“MASTEEEEER!!”
“Oh, yes! What is it, Ms. Tanya?”
“That Hot Spring Dungeon Master in Sepans or whatever—didn’t he reach the 11th floor in under a year?”
“Yes, that’s what you told me, wasn’t it?”
“So what the hell is a ‘hot spring,’ anyway? You know? Is that seriously worth more than gemstones or something?”
“...Wouldn’t it have been best to ask him while he was still on the line?”
“He was spending his own points to talk! I couldn’t go and waste his time with my questions, that’d be rude!”
“...You’re hard to read, Ms. Tanya. Are you bold, or are you delicate? Honestly, I can’t tell...”
Later, when the master finally explained what a hot spring actually was, Tanya gave up trying to understand—because for a dungeon core, it was simply too nonsensical a concept to process.
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