Chapter 6 - Tentative
Today too, Lizel visited the guild together with Gil.
It had been a week since their first quest. In that time, Lizel had been taking on jobs, strolling around the city, or reading books—spending his days as an adventurer in a rather peaceful way. Today as well, he stood before the F-rank request board, the lowest of the ranks, scanning through the sheets of paper listing various jobs.
The surrounding low-rank adventurers looked somewhat uneasy in his presence.
“Since we already took on a few subjugation requests, I thought you might be getting bored, Gil.”
“It’s not like I don’t have anything to do. Doesn’t bother me.”
“I see.” Lizel nodded and continued running his eyes over the sheets one after another. He had already done subjugation and gathering jobs, and since Gil was still accompanying him, he wanted to take the chance to get more advice. So he tried to avoid requests that repeated the same patterns.
F-rank was designed to rise quickly, so at the moment he could only accept F- and E-rank quests. But if he completed even one more, his rank would rise, and he would be able to take on D-rank jobs as well—or so Gil had told him.
“Oh, how about that one?”
Lizel looked up at a request sheet posted at the very top of the board. He stretched out his arm to see if he could just barely reach it, but before his fingers touched it, Gil pulled the sheet down from behind him. Lizel lowered his hand with a small shrug—well, that worked too.
“A dungeon job, huh. We haven’t done one of those yet.”
“I was thinking I’d like to see this dungeon at least once.”
Wanted: Dungeon Goods!
Rank: F–E
Client: Dungeon Tool Collector (tentative)
Reward: Base reward 10 silver coins + appraisal value of item (up to 1 gold coin, appraisal certificate required)
Request: Anything, as long as it’s something that can only be found in the dungeon.
Limitation: Must be from floors 1–5 only.
“(Tentative), huh?”
“As long as it’s delivered through the guild, they don’t need to use their real name. Since it’s only up to the fifth floor, low-rankers are good enough. Probably just means they don’t have the budget to hire high-rankers or to pay big for rare items.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Depending on what it is, even low-rank dungeon goods can fetch a decent price, though.”
According to the request, it wasn’t enough to simply bring back the item from the dungeon; they also had to get it appraised.
It might turn out to be quite an interesting client, Lizel thought, and with that he carried the sheet over to the reception desk. Since Gil had said nothing, there probably wasn’t anything strange about the request.
The guild was crowded at that hour, and every counter window was occupied. Lizel lined up in the queue. The adventurer being served ahead of him glanced back, then did a double take so exaggerated it was almost comical, before hastily snapping their gaze forward again. It seemed like it was their first time seeing Lizel.
Despite being an adventurer, Lizel still didn’t feel like one. Even though all traces of nobility had faded from him, Gil noticed, Lizel still gave off an air that set him apart—yet the man himself paid it no mind.
“Hmm?”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
Lizel’s gaze wandered for a moment to the cluster of desks set a little apart, free to use for party discussions. Every single one was occupied.
But the adventurers sitting around them weren’t talking. Instead, each party sat in tense silence, glaring at the request sheets spread out on the tables.
“Next in line, please.”
As Lizel thought to himself that this had become quite a common sight lately, a counter that had been closed opened up. Calling out “next in line” but clearly staring only at Lizel, Studd moved over—having abandoned the seat reserved for new member registration.
Technically, it wasn’t wrong since there were no newcomers at the moment. Still, Studd rarely interrupted paperwork just to handle quests. His colleagues sent him warm yet teasing looks, which he coolly ignored as he sat down. Lizel, being next in line anyway, gave a wry smile and walked over.
“I’d like to take this quest.”
“Oh, that one. Yes, this client posts the same request from time to time.”
“Is it really true they’ll take anything?”
“As long as it’s not just a rock or a weed lying around, they’ll usually be delighted. If it’s something that can only be found inside the dungeon, it seems they truly don’t mind what it is.”
Lizel handed over his guild card. Studd received it and processed the paperwork with practiced efficiency.
Watching those precise, fluid motions with a faint smile, Lizel waited until the procedure was nearly complete before casually speaking up. His eyes drifted toward the desks he had been observing earlier.
“By the way.”
“Yes?”
Incidentally, Lizel was the only one who could speak to Studd after a reception and not be ignored. Gil sometimes received a curt reply, but since he never engaged Studd in proper conversation, it was effectively only Lizel who managed it.
“What are they doing over there?”
“A few days ago, a new dungeon was discovered. It seems to be rather troublesome, so they’re all discussing it.”
“Staring silently at the desk counts as a discussion?”
“It’s not the monsters that are the problem—it’s the codes. They can’t crack the ciphers, so they fall into traps or can’t progress any further. But since the monsters aren’t particularly strong, everyone’s desperate to be the first to conquer the dungeon.”
Items obtained in a dungeon usually belonged to whoever found them. Treasure chests appeared randomly with each entry, but the prize lying in the deepest chamber of a conquered dungeon vanished once claimed, never to appear again.
Not every dungeon guaranteed treasure—but the chance at striking it rich was temptation enough.
And this time, since only the shallow layers had been mapped and the monsters were not unusually strong, anyone had a shot.
High-rank or low-rank, it didn’t matter—adventurers of every level were busy puzzling over riddles in hopes of treasure. Studd, watching them without a shred of emotion, gestured toward the request board that hardly looked any emptier.
“Thanks to that, the number of adventurers taking requests has dropped, which is rather regrettable. If you’re planning to enter that dungeon as well, you should glance at the table. The first cipher is posted there.”
Apparently, the puzzles and traps grew more difficult the deeper one went. That was the nature of dungeons.
The guild only displayed the riddle for the very first door. Once that door was unlocked, it stayed open—but judging by the subsequent contraptions, anyone unable to solve even the initial cipher wouldn’t stand a chance.
To avoid needless deaths from adventurers blundering into traps, the guild required that only those who could solve the first cipher were granted entry. Managing the dungeon was also part of the guild’s duty; they couldn’t afford to lose their adventurers so easily.
“Once inside, you don’t have the time to ponder riddles between fighting monsters. That’s why they try to figure out as much as possible here, beforehand.”
“Do the riddles change once you leave the dungeon?”
“Some do, it seems. But the patterns don’t vary much.”
‘I see. Then it makes sense to work them out here.’
Satisfied with that explanation, Lizel turned to Gil.
“What about this new dungeon? Should we try it?”
“Forget it. There’s one nearby—we’ll go there instead.”
“Understood.”
Either way, Lizel had no intention of entering an unpredictable dungeon. Gil seemed of the same mind, showing little interest in the new one.
If it had housed particularly strong monsters, Gil would likely have gone alone. But this wasn’t the case. Despite being an adventurer, he was one of the rare few who had no interest in treasure.
“The codes sound intriguing, though. Let’s just take a quick look before we head out.”
“Fine.”
“Then, please take care.”
“Thank you.”
They received the usual send-off, and returned it with the usual smile. Lizel then stepped toward the desks, approaching the adventurers who sat glaring at their sheets with grave determination.
Looking more closely, Lizel noticed that the adventurers weren’t using the guild’s handouts. Instead, each of them clutched sheets filled with their own scribbled notes, whispering to one another. He could guess without even seeing what was written—those must have been the traps they were currently stuck on.
Perhaps they were being careful not to let anyone around them overhear. After all, once they solved every mechanism and secured the treasure, the information itself could be sold to the guild or other adventurers for money.
If someone learned their secrets now and stole the treasure out from under them, all their effort would be wasted. That was why they kept their discussions hushed, hidden from prying eyes.
“I see.”
With a casual motion, Lizel leaned forward and peeked at the guild’s sheet on the desk. Reading the first cipher posted by the guild was open to anyone, so the adventurers using that desk had no grounds to complain.
Especially not with Gil looming over them from behind, and Studd shooting them a cold glance from the reception. None of them dared say a word. They only frowned suspiciously at Lizel, who smiled serenely as he studied the cipher.
“It’s a clever puzzle. Nicely put together.”
“If you’ve solved it, let’s go.”
“Yes.”
That brief comment from Lizel, followed by Gil’s matter-of-fact tone, left the adventurers staring at them, dumbstruck. Many people couldn’t even solve the first cipher. The idea that Lizel had understood it in an instant was unbelievable.
Straightening from his leaning posture, Lizel suddenly glanced back at one of the young adventurers seated at the table. The man held a note covered with what seemed to be the workings of the cipher his party was currently attempting.
“Pardon me. I happened to catch a glimpse of your notes just now.”
Without warning, Lizel leaned in.
One hand rested lightly on the table as he bent close, lowering his face toward the man’s ear as if sharing a secret. His calm, gentle expression drew near, and the adventurer froze, dazed and unable to move.
Ordinarily, those words—that Lizel had seen the notes—should have provoked outrage. Those papers contained mechanisms uncovered after days of trial and error. Normally, anyone who barged in and threatened to steal their findings would have been shouted at on the spot.
“It’s ancient numerical script. A very elegant equation.”
The words, whispered in a quiet, low voice barely audible to anyone nearby, didn’t immediately register in the adventurer’s mind.
“Hey, let’s go.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
At Gil’s call, Lizel straightened and gave a small, apologetic smile. “Just a little slip,” he said before walking away without a trace of guilt. The adventurer remained frozen, listening in a daze to that unapologetic voice. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the sheet in his own hands.
His equally stunned companions suddenly crowded in on him, voices sharp. “What did he say? Did he steal something from you? Did he take your information?” Pressed from all sides, the adventurer buried his head in his arms against the desk.
“Stole it? No... it was the opposite... More like... he saw it once and just—just like that...”
“What?”
“Just now, he—”
As the man began to speak, he noticed a shadow fall across him. Ready to snap back with a “What do you want?” in typical adventurer fashion, he turned—and immediately shut his mouth, his face draining of color.
Standing there was the one and only guild officer whom everyone in the hall feared most.
“I believe that’s not something to be discussed here.”
“Y-yeah... you’re right...”
The officer’s calm, expressionless gaze bore down on him with such quiet intensity that later, half in tears, the adventurer recounted the terror to his party.
“Don’t go doing anything unnecessary. You’ll just get yourself dragged into trouble.”
“Oh, come on. Whether I get dragged in or not is something I can decide for myself.”
Lizel, not realizing that Studd had just prevented the whole affair from spiraling further, merely bowed his head to Gil’s grumble with a quiet, “Sorry.”
The two of them were already past the city gates, making their way toward the dungeon. The dungeon they sought was said to lie within a forest a short walk ahead.
“Don’t go choosing anything troublesome.”
“I won’t.”
Lizel chuckled cheerfully at Gil’s sour, tight-lipped expression, the kind one made after biting into something bitter, and his thoughts drifted back to the code he had seen earlier. The ancient script—it was unmistakably the same script that had once been used long ago in his homeland.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this place might actually be the future. But no, that was impossible. If that were the case, the name of his once-great nation should have survived somewhere, yet it appeared nowhere. Even the very shape of the continents on the maps here was different.
Perhaps it was some undiscovered continent? He dismissed the thought almost as quickly. In the end, he decided it was easier—and more comfortable—to treat things as if there were no great differences at all.
“This dungeon here... does it also have a door?”
“A door?”
“Yes. Back home, there’d be this grand double door, all ornate and imposing, just sitting there in the middle of nowhere.”
“Door, huh... more like a gate here. Two pillars—stone, or maybe some kind of ore I don’t know—and a double gate between ’em.”
There were minor differences, but the one common feature was the same: they appeared suddenly, without warning. No monsters ever came spilling out of the gates, and they never appeared in the middle of towns, so people didn’t consider them particularly dangerous.
Still, like Lizel’s gun, many items, ores, monster parts, and plants could only be obtained inside dungeons. Because of that, they weren’t ignored; adventurers made frequent use of them. Back in Lizel’s country, there had been no adventurers, but dungeons had served as training grounds for knights and as a source of coin for mercenaries.
After an hour’s walk, the pair reached the forest. Ten minutes further in, they finally stood before the dungeon itself. A stone gate loomed silently, untouched by moss.
“Wait, aren’t these supposed to be managed by the guild?”
“They keep people stationed at the ones with restrictions, like I said earlier. But if there aren’t any, anyone can come and go. ‘Management’ just means they keep track of where the dungeons are, and if something happens, they send someone to check it out.”
“I see, I guess stationing guards at a dungeon no one’s using would be a waste of money.”
“Normally there’d be more adventurers coming and going here. But right now, everyone’s off flocking to that new dungeon, I’d bet.”
Dungeons never disappeared, no matter how many times they were cleared. This one, being close to town and not particularly difficult, was often used by low-ranked adventurers for commissions, material gathering, or training.
But the dreamers, the fresh-faced adventurers chasing glory, were all likely crowding into the new dungeon, hoping to strike it rich. Which meant this one was quiet—an opportunity Lizel had no complaints about.
He stopped in front of the gate. Gil pushed it open. Without much effort, the great doors groaned faintly as they swung inward.
On the other side should have been only more forest. Instead, a stone cavern spread before them, like the entrance to ancient ruins.
“Let’s go.”
“Right.”
Lizel stepped inside, secretly looking forward to his very first dungeon. As soon as they had both crossed the threshold, the gate closed on its own behind them. Strangely, it wasn’t dark. The entire cavern glowed with a faint, ambient light.
At their feet, a magic circle was etched into the floor, glowing faintly.
“What’s this sorcery circle?”
“Magic circle. This dungeon goes underground—about... thirty floors, I think. Every five floors there’s a circle like this. Once you’ve cleared a floor, you can use it to skip straight there.”
“You cleared it all the way to the end?”
“Yeah. That’s why it’s reacting to me now. If we were in a party, you could use it too. But this time it doesn’t matter.”
Their current job was only to collect an item from the fifth floor.
They ignored the magic circle and started down the path on foot.
“Since the quest didn’t specify a particular dungeon, does that mean the items inside don’t differ depending on which one you go to?”
“If it’s a dungeon with a special theme, then you’ll see more items suited to it. But the quality of labyrinth goods themselves doesn’t really change. That’s why the basic reward stays fixed and they can issue the request in the first place.”
“And the reason it says up to the fifth floor?”
“Most dungeons get tougher every five or ten floors. The monsters grow stronger, but the items you find get rarer too.”
Gil added that, in this dungeon at least, the general measure was: up to the tenth floor was E-rank, up to the twentieth D-rank, up to the twenty-ninth C-rank, and the lowest floor was considered B-rank.
That was assuming, of course, that one had a party. Almost no one thought of attempting it alone. What Lizel didn’t know was that Gil had cleared this dungeon solo—three days after first arriving in Parteda.
Needless to say, that feat was what had spread Gil’s name throughout the kingdom.
“I’d like to see one of the bosses someday, but I guess that’s still out of reach.”
“Pretty much.”
The reason the lowest floor was so difficult lay in the presence of the so-called “boss.” Only by defeating that monster could one enter the chamber at the very depths, and countless adventurers stumbled at that point.
And strangely, even after a party seized the treasure, the boss alone would eventually revive.
“Just so I don’t get rusty, I drop by now and then just to kill the boss.”
“Oh, so that’s where you vanish off to from time to time.”
“Here, or one of the other dungeons.”
Though their conversation flowed easily, the truth was that monsters were attacking them even now. Since they already knew each other’s capabilities, and since this wasn’t a subjugation request, Lizel didn’t feel the need to rush into battle every time.
Any monster slain was automatically recorded on their guild cards, but if it wasn’t part of a subjugation request, that record was nothing more than a tally.
Lizel watched Gil cut down foes mid-conversation with effortless precision, admiring the ease of it. He himself fired at the monsters that strayed outside Gil’s range. Strictly speaking, there was no need for him to assist. But since this was a request he had accepted, Lizel wasn’t about to dump everything on Gil’s shoulders.
That didn’t mean he insisted on fighting just because the request was his—doing so would only have been horribly inefficient.
“What about the monster materials? Do you want any?”
“Don’t need ’em.”
The dungeon had both unique monsters and those they’d seen in the grasslands, but on the first floor nothing dropped rare materials. Monsters slain inside a dungeon eventually dissolved into pure mana, so Lizel simply nodded at Gil’s dismissal and left the corpses as they were.
“So for dungeon goods, we’ll have to find a treasure chest.”
“Yeah. Trouble is, there’s no way to predict when one shows up. In that sense, it’s a tricky kind of quest.”
“I’m having fun just looking at the dungeon itself.”
The stonework corridors, styled like ancient ruins, bore intricate carvings and the occasional altar. Without the danger, it could easily have been a tourist attraction.
Every dungeon shared this strangeness: the scenery inside bore no relation at all to the outside world.
Because the layouts tended to repeat, most adventurers advanced while making rough maps. Lizel, however, saw no need. He thought it enough simply to remember as he went.
Gil too generally trusted his memory to guide him forward, so they moved briskly without pause. Lizel peeked around corners, searching for treasure chests, but none turned up before the stairs leading down appeared.
“We probably haven’t covered every corner yet. What do you want to do?”
“Let’s head down. When a chest shows up, it would likely just pop right into view.”
Here, the stairwell grew suddenly steeper and dimmer. Gil took the lead, descending first.
Lizel followed, idly wishing for a handrail as his eyes wandered over the wall’s etched designs. Then, without warning, Gil spun back and shoved Lizel’s head down hard.
Lizel, unable to keep his footing, nearly tumbled headfirst down the stairs, but Gil caught him by the back of his collar and held him steady.
Something whizzed past the top of Lizel’s bowed head, and a sharp clang rang out as it struck the stone wall.
As fragments scattered and fell, Lizel saw the shattered remains of a stone arrow and finally realized a trap had just been triggered.
“Why did it react to me and not to you?”
“That’s the first thing you say?”
“Ah—right. My apologies. And thank you.”
With a sigh of exasperation, Gil released his grip on Lizel’s collar. Lizel rose at an unhurried pace and brushed at his neckline as if nothing had happened. It was hard to believe he had been a hair’s breadth away from getting his skull pierced.
In his line of work, Gil had taken on guard requests before. No matter how pompous the client, when death stared them in the face, they all panicked—grown men screaming, even. Lizel showed none of that. Even now, he calmly picked up one of the shattered arrows and examined it closely.
“You’re awfully composed.”
“It’s the only redeeming trait I’ve got.”
Strange as it seemed, Gil had noticed that from the start. If Lizel’s calmness had come from some self-sacrificing mindset, Gil would have abandoned the job on the spot. But it wasn’t that.
Lizel simply regarded danger as acceptable, so long as his own survival was not fundamentally jeopardized. A client like that was easy to guard, Gil thought, watching Lizel toss the broken arrow aside.
“What do you think, Gil? Why me?”
“Who knows. Your head must’ve been at just the right height.”
“Well, I am shorter than you, but still...”
So went the dungeon—things like that happened, and one could only conclude it was part of the design.
Traps that inexplicably split their triggers evenly between party members, or one-man doors that somehow appeared in the exact number of people present. Oddities, yes, but always hand-waved with: because it’s a dungeon.
“Next time, keep sharp for those traps. You were standing like a scarecrow.”
“I was completely relaxed because you were here.”
“Don’t relax.”
Gil couldn’t tell if he was serious or making excuses. Normally such words could only sound like excuses, but coming from Lizel, they somehow rang true.
When asked whether he could’ve avoided it if he’d been tense, Lizel only responded with a slight smile. That alone deepened the suspicion. Well, as long as Gil was here, he’d deal with it himself, he thought, stepping onto the last stair.
“Oh.”
“Hm? Ah.”
The view ahead opened into a chamber. Three doors waited beyond, each offering a way forward—but they might not need them at all.
“Looks like we got lucky with a treasure chest.”
“Normally you’re lucky to find one chest by the tenth floor. Running into one on the second? That’s fortune.”
Two treasure chests sat in the room, placed between the three doors.
As Gil had said, treasure chests were rarely found. That was what made dungeon goods valuable, though not extravagantly so, since persistence alone could turn them up.
Still, sometimes one could stumble upon a chest with every dive, and though rare, multiple chests at once weren’t unheard of.
“I’ve even heard of ten chests lined up in a row once. Not impossible.”
“And sometimes there are monsters inside, right?”
“On occasion.”
When Gil asked if he should open it, Lizel shook his head and stepped forward to open the first chest himself. The heavy stone lid should have been a burden, but it swung open smoothly.
Lizel peered inside and gave a quiet laugh. Lifting the object for Gil to see, he revealed it with an amused grin. Gil’s face twisted as he stared, expression caught between disbelief and dismay.
“So even things like this come out.”
“A stuffed bear...?”
“It’s a teddy bear. Huh. Honestly, the craftsmanship’s good enough I wouldn’t be surprised if it fetched a premium price...”
Lizel studied the teddy bear closely. The fabric was sturdy, and even the buttons that fastened its limbs had been crafted with care.
On its chest, tied with a ribbon, a small medal was sewn in place. Etched upon it was the unmistakable mark that proved it to be a dungeon item.
Lizel casually tried to tear the medal free, but it wouldn’t come loose. For all its feel and craftsmanship it was an ordinary plush toy—yet the material was unlike anything he knew. Undeniably, it was a genuine product of the dungeon.
“I can tell it’s well-made, but I’ve no idea what price it might fetch.”
“You’ll have it appraised anyway.”
“Yes, but still.”
Lizel had grown up surrounded by valuable goods, but even he couldn’t gauge the worth of a stuffed toy. Only the gems sewn into its eyes—two fine red stones—did he recognize as truly valuable.
Of course, Gil was no better judge. He only gave Lizel a slightly wary look for trying to rip the medal off in the first place.
“Let’s open the other one. ...Oh, I see.”
“Huh?”
Inside lay another teddy bear, this one with blue eyes. Placed beside the first, it was clear they were identical in make—a matching set.
That their very first dungeon finds should be a pair of teddy bears lent the scene a faintly melancholic air, and Lizel looked at them with something like resignation.
“Well... My first find was just some ordinary sword, you know.”
“That sounds a lot more like what you’d expect from a dungeon.”
He was a little bitter about it.
Still, it was a rare dungeon item all the same. Lizel had never heard of teddy bears emerging from treasure chests, but it was said the dungeon produced any number of inexplicable things. By the time they set out back toward the capital, he had regained his composure.
He hadn’t been seriously upset to begin with—though, of course, he couldn’t claim the bears meant nothing to him.
“Do you think a regular adventurers’ appraiser will do?”
“Sure. You can’t exactly take ‘em to a clothier.”
They were now making their way to a certain shop for appraisal. Passing by a weapon store with the air of seasoned swordsmen, they stopped instead before the neighboring item shop.
Dangling beneath its signboard, as always, was a smaller sign that read: ‘We’re confident in our appraisal’—though the handwriting suggested anything but confidence. Still, it was the one place Lizel knew to offer a truly reliable appraisal.
“You’ve got a knack for finding the right places.”
“You’ve been here too, Gil?”
“Yeah. The old man who ran it was something else. When I first came to this country three years ago, the moment I stepped inside he barked at me—‘Can’t even tell what weapon suits you?!’—and hurled this sword at me.”
\
Of course, he made Gil pay for it afterward—highway robbery, really.
But the slender greatsword turned out to be perfect for him. Gil could wield it as easily as a one-handed sword, yet still enjoy the destructive power of a greatsword. It required immense strength, but as a long-reaching one-handed blade with a greatsword’s might, it was ideal for him.
“Sounds like he did you a favor, then. So the current owner is his son?”
“Grandson, I think. Met him a couple times. That crotchety old man used to brag like a fool—‘My grandson’s appraisal eye is second to none!’”
“And lately you haven’t been back?”
“Not for two years. Guess things have changed since then.”
They confirmed the shop was open and stepped inside.
As before, a lone clerk was busily polishing the wares for display.
“Welc—oh...”
“Hello again.”
“Hey, don’t go freezing people up like that every time.”
“If that keeps being blamed on me, it’s going to get awkward.”
Lizel gave another polite hello, and the shopkeeper blinked as though snapping out of a trance. His eyes widened first at Lizel, then at Gil standing behind him.
He darted glances between the two in alarm, then, spotting a familiar face, stiffly inclined his head toward Gil in a hesitant greeting.
“Uh, i-i-it’s been a long time...”
“I’ve told you before—no need to be scared, I’m not gonna do anything.”
“Sorry...”
“Gil, don’t bully him. We’re here to ask for his help with work.”
“I’m not bullying him.”
The shopkeeper finally raised his head and stared at them in shock.
First of all, he couldn’t understand why the two of them were even together. To him, Lizel was a noble.
The sight of two people who looked to be polar opposites talking so casually left him utterly bewildered. Lizel couldn’t help but smile at his expression.
“I didn’t say this before, but I’m not actually a noble.”
“...What?!”
That only confused him further.
And so, until the shopkeeper managed to snap out of his daze and perform a proper appraisal, the two of them spent their time simply browsing through the goods.
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