Chapter 55 - Liquor Pack
A few days had passed since the knights of the Kingdom of Marponwear had completed their exploration of the lowest floor of the No-Hunger and Hot Spring Dungeons.
By then, adventurers from the Kingdom of Sepans were charging en masse into the No-Hunger Dungeon.
Not only that—even male knights of Sepans were being mobilized in droves.
The very first to taste the liquor that Auf and the others had brought back—using their Dungeon Archives Editor privileges—were not nobles or soldiers, but two maidservants assigned as poison testers.
When Auf and Vihita took their sips some time after the maids, they were stunned.
It was too good.
After each of them downed about a small cup’s worth, Auf and Vihita silently locked eyes. For thirty seconds, neither spoke a word.
And when they finally did, the first words out of their mouths were:
“What is this?”
“...I have no idea.”
It wasn’t a simple, “Wow, this is delicious!” kind of reaction.
It was more like, “Was this what real liquor was supposed to taste like? If so, what had they been drinking all this time? What is liquor...? What even is a beverage...?”
These bizarre, half-philosophical questions started swirling through their minds.
“...R-Right. We should have the Guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild... no, Her Majesty Yuzha or even the General try this. We need to consult with the higher-ups immediately...”
“Wait, you’re not drinking any more, my lady?”
“Something about this feels... dangerous. If I don’t stop now, I’ll end up drinking the whole thing without realizing it.
Vihita, you too. That’s enough. We’ve only got enough left for a few more people!”
Even Vihita, who wasn’t particularly fond of alcohol to begin with, looked genuinely heartbroken.
The two maids who’d sampled it first now stared into the distance, as if realizing they might never experience that flavor again in their lives.
That alone said everything. This liquor wasn’t just good—it was trouble.
If this stuff ever made it to mass production, it could flip the entire alcohol industry on its head. Dangerous didn’t begin to cover it. But the cat was already out of the bag. Knights from another nation had already discovered it, and free adventurers with the skill to reach the 11th floor were a dime a dozen. Whether it was sooner or later, word was going to spread.
Which meant the best course of action was clear: gather as much of it as possible before the knights from Marponwear caught on to just how good it was.
“Oh, and the empty pack when we’re done? That’s mine. No arguments. I’m claiming it right now.”
Even in a situation like this, Auf’s obsession with containers hadn’t changed.
Frankly, Vihita wanted to suggest transferring the contents into a different container and handing that one over, but the risk of altering the flavor held her back.
A few days later, once the higher-ups had tasted the liquor for themselves, they began flooding the No-Hunger Dungeon with adventurers and knights alike.
For the first time in history, it was more popular than even the Hot Spring Dungeon.
While all this commotion unfolded, the female knights from Marponwear finally returned—hauling back an impressive number of mirrors. But no one paid them much attention. Everyone was far too obsessed with the newly discovered booze.
Of course, even though Sepans was in an uproar, knights from other nations couldn't just go sampling liquor in the middle of an expedition.
Especially not those from Marponwear, a kingdom known for its military discipline. Compared to Sepans, their regulations were notoriously strict.
Commander Shield, for example, was forced to endure the situation with clenched fists and a tortured expression. “How could this... How could this be allowed...? Please... just dismiss me for one day...”
♨♨♨♨♨
Meanwhile, in the depths of the Hot Spring Dungeon, the female knights of Sepans had pushed onward to the lowest level.
According to Auf, the boiling spring they were headed toward was most likely intended for cooking.
With that in mind, their goal was to harvest a large amount of produce from the 9th floor and then set up camp near the boiling spring to begin food prep.
“Um, according to Commander Shield’s report, it should be around here... Oh! There it is!”
Indeed—it was unmistakable. Billowing clouds of scalding steam filled the area, and the water in the spring boiled violently. One glance made it clear that no human could possibly bathe in it.
Several small hot springs dotted the area, none of them large—each could probably fit a few people at most.
The floor and walls surrounding them were full of small holes—clearly dangerous. Anyone who accidentally stepped into one would likely suffer a serious burn. Extreme caution was needed to avoid missteps.
...That said, at first glance it looked like a dangerously unstable area.
But from a different perspective, it was a chef’s dream. Drop ingredients into those holes and cover them—they’d steam beautifully.
The heat radiating from the wall-holes was intense, like a natural bread oven.
You could boil food directly in the springs, or scoop some hot spring water into a pot and place it over one of the steam vents to cook up a nice soup.
Once they looked at it from the viewpoint of a kitchen, the whole structure made perfect sense. It wasn’t a hazard—it was a natural cooking zone, purpose-built for the art of cuisine.
“How could Lady Auf possibly tell just from hearing about this place that it was meant for cooking? What kind of mind even thinks like that...?”
“Alright, everyone. We’ll be camping here for a few days. Each of you, pick a recipe from this list and cook whatever you like. If you notice any kind of effect after eating, report it immediately.”
“Yes, Captain!”
That said, no one was particularly hungry yet. For now, it was just standby time.
The squad spread blankets over the floor, lounged about, sat down, laid back—each finding their own comfortable posture as they began chatting casually.
“Aww, I wanted to be on the No-Hunger Dungeon team. The one with the liquor...”
“Didn’t you get to taste it, Vice-Captain? Is it really as insane as Her Majesty said it was?”
“Oh, it’s insane, alright... It’s definitely liquor, but how do I even explain it...? It’s like... the essence of deliciousness, weaponized.
It’s like someone extracted only the pleasant part of what makes liquor taste good and poured that directly into your mouth.
It leaves you thinking, Wait, liquor can taste like this?—and then your brain just shuts down from the confusion.”
In Sepans, "liquor" typically meant overly sweet mead, old-fashioned beer with sharp sourness more than bitterness, or wine with an overpowering fermented fruit flavor.
They only had drinks where the raw ingredients made their presence known—loudly.
But this crystal-clear, pure liquor—so transparent you couldn’t even guess what it was made from—was far beyond their frame of reference.
No wonder they could only describe it as drinking the concept of good alcohol itself.
“Ughhh, I want to try it sooo bad, Vice-Captain...”
“Believe me, I’d love to drink it again too. But Lady Auf said just one cup each. Any more, and there wouldn’t be enough left for Her Majesty or the General.
Argh, it’s so painful, knowing exactly what I’m missing!”
“Heh... I wonder if that’s why Her Majesty never let me have even a sip.”
“That’s because you were on duty, Captain.”
“She let the General have some! Said it was a ‘special royal order’ to mobilize the national army! But me? Me?! Not even a drop!”
“By the time we return from this expedition, I’m sure more will have made it to the palace. I have to believe that. I need to.”
“Even if it has, I bet it’ll be priced like gourmet chocolate—wipe out almost all your salary just to buy a bottle!”
“Vice-Captain Vihitaaa~ any chance the Nausa Ducal House is hiring live-in bodyguards? Please say yes and take me with you~”
“At this point, why don’t we all just take a long vacation and go fetch it ourselves?”
“Hahaha, says the same person who’s always like, ‘Ugh, never again with dungeon life.’ And now you want to go during your vacation?”
“Truly terrifying, the way human desire can lure people back into dungeons...”
♨♨♨♨♨
Back at the ducal estate, Auf was lying on her bed, tightly hugging the now-empty Japanese sake pack to her chest.
Not because she had drunk it all herself.
No, she’d become utterly entranced by the structure of the empty paper container while examining it.
“How... How is it even possible to seal in such rich, potent aroma without a single whiff leaking out—using just paper?!”
She’d been amazed by the honey jars too, whose lids didn’t allow a single drop of liquid to escape. But this? This liquor had such a deep, intoxicating fragrance, and yet none of it leaked unless opened. That was madness.
The paper didn’t absorb moisture at all, and the interior membrane didn’t even let scent through. What kind of miracle substance was that lining made from? How did they create such a thing?
This wasn’t engineering anymore. It had to be magic—some artifact born of dungeon mana.
She wanted to believe that... but she knew it wasn’t that simple.
And that’s why Auf was now lying in bed, clutching the empty sake pack like a girl lost in her first love.
To the outside observer, she looked like a hopeless drunk spiraling into obsession—but in truth, her feelings were pure.
Yes—this dungeon’s will was a will from the future.
It was the will of a world possessing technology leagues beyond their own.
This paper sake container was further proof of that theory.
And the reason was obvious.
If this technology was merely a mysterious magical product conjured by the dungeon’s mana...
Then there should have been no reason for this paper container to be assembled from folded paper.
If this container had simply been produced through magic, then surely it would have emerged as a seamless, perfectly square box with no joints or folds.
So why—why on earth did this container bear clear signs of having been constructed from a flat sheet of paper, carefully folded into a box shape?
There could be only one answer: this was a real technology, one that existed in the world the Dungeon’s Will had once inhabited.
It was only because such a thing truly existed there that it could now be replicated here.
“The Will of the Dungeon… just what kind of world did you live in?”
This paper container was likely just a trivial fragment of that world’s technology. A world where this level of craftsmanship was utterly mundane. A world where this was normal.
What kind of society would it take to be surrounded by such otherworldly technologies? What kind of civilization had they built? What kind of lives did they lead?
Auf couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Not in the slightest.
That’s how far removed—how impossibly distant—that world of advanced technology truly was.
“...Will of the Dungeon... I want to speak with you. I want to hear about your world.”
Auf was smitten.
Not with the master of the Hot Spring Dungeon—but with the world and technology of the modern society that master had come from.
And so, still hugging the carton of Japanese sake, Auf quietly drifted off to sleep.
To someone from modern society, it would have been a truly pitiful sight.
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