◇ ◇ ◇
The day after dinner with Sophia and Selma.
Since the guided exploration into the great labyrinth started tomorrow, I headed to the familiar general store to stock up on consumables like recovery potions.
"Hey, gramps. Morning."
"Oho, Orun lad. Been a while, hasn't it…?"
The shopkeeper was a grandfatherly man in his sixties, sporting a long white beard.
Ever since I first arrived in this town and registered as an explorer, I'd been coming here regularly.
Back when I barely earned anything, he'd give me discounts, hand over prototype items for free, even offer life advice like a true elder. I owed him a lot.
"It hasn't been that long—only four days ago."
"Was it? Lately the shop's been busier. More faces, more chatter."
"Looks like business is booming. Glad to hear it."
"Ho ho ho. And it's thanks to you, lad."
"I haven't done anything. Your potions and goods are just that good."
"I know the truth. You've been spreading the word about my shop. You reached the top as an explorer, yet you still shop here—and promote it too. I'm truly grateful, Orun."
Out of nowhere, he thanked me earnestly.
"What's with the sudden gratitude? If anyone should be thankful, it's me."
"Gratitude's something you say when you can. Better sooner than later."
True enough—partings can come without warning.
"Say thanks while you still can." Another lesson from gramps.
Yet here I was, maybe unable to repay him anymore.
"…Gramps, I'm sorry. I'm not in the hero party anymore. So… I probably can't promote the shop like before."
I'd used the party's fame to draw customers here. On my own, I wasn't well-known; without the party, my influence was basically zero.
When I confessed that—and that the promotions would stop—Gramps just smiled the same gentle way as always and patted my head.
"What's a kid like you worrying about? It's been nearly nine years since we met. Nine years of an old man like me having someone to talk to—that's more than enough thanks. Don't fret over it. Besides, keeping the new customers you brought in is up to my effort now. You've done plenty. Thank you."
"No… thank you, gramps."
His kindness hit me hard. Tears welled up before I could stop them.
Normally I wouldn't cry, but getting kicked from the hero party had wounded me deeper than I realized.
Being cast out by Oliver—the guy who'd been with me since we were kids—felt like everything I'd done up till then was worthless.
So when this man I'd known for nine years affirmed me so simply, it felt like salvation.
Gramps always listened to my complaints.
Always helped me out.
Always took my side.
With no real family, I thought of him as my actual grandfather.
I could never betray this man. I swore it to myself once more, deep in my heart.
◇
After buying what I needed from gramps, I did some light monster hunting in the labyrinth to loosen up, then headed to "Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky" headquarters for tomorrow's briefing.
"…Impressive inside too."
I'd passed by the exterior plenty of times during my hero party days, but stepping foot inside was a first.
The lounge rivaled the highest-class hotel salons where sponsor marquises had hosted parties.
Even I, no expert on furnishings, could tell half the pieces here were worth a fortune.
"You're here, Orun."
Selma, seated in the lounge's rest area, called out the moment I entered.
"Good evening, Selma. First time inside—it's quite the lounge."
"Thanks. This entrance area got the full treatment, but deeper in it's more modest. Anyway, come with me—I'll show you through."
I followed her.
Just as she said, the farther back we went, the plainer the decor became.
Still plenty impressive for explorers, though.
The room she led me to looked like a conference space. A man in his early thirties sat waiting.
He wore black-and-blue—the clan's colors—with their emblem embroidered on his left chest.
(Office staff? He's got quite the presence for that.)
"Orun, let me introduce you. This is Vince Briars, Commander of "Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky"."
Ah. The top man himself.
That explained the aura.
Given the stakes of this guided exploration, I'd expected some executive to show up for an outsider like me.
But the Commander personally? What was the angle?
He didn't exactly seem like someone with time to spare.
"Nice to meet you. Vince Briars. I've heard about you—wanted to talk sometime. When I learned you'd be here today, I made time."
…Heard about me?
I wasn't famous. The hero party had kept my info minimal.
What rumors could he possibly have heard?
"Nice to meet you too. Orun Dura. It's an honor to meet the Commander of "Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky"."
"No need to be so guarded. I know you left the hero party. No point in probing each other, right?"
…I couldn't read this guy at all.
Most people's thoughts show on their face to some degree.
Even high nobles usually leak something.
But him? Nothing.
True, the hero party's sponsors and "Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky"'s belonged to rival factions.
When depths were neck-and-neck, we'd gotten orders for underhanded interference.
I hated noble politics bleeding into explorer work, but with funding on the line we couldn't outright refuse—so we never crossed into true cruelty, just petty sabotage both ways.
It had been exhausting.
The clan's internal mess and the hero party pulling ahead had quieted those orders.
Still, while the hero party's sponsors might not care, "Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky"'s backers surely weren't thrilled with the current gap.
"…Right. So today's about detailing tomorrow's guided exploration?"
"Yeah. Selma will explain."
"As I said yesterday: three days to blitz from floor one to fifty-one. Day one to twenty-one, day two to thirty-six, day three to fifty-one."
Hearing it again just hammered home how reckless it was.
Whoever planned this clearly didn't understand the labyrinth and only listened to overconfident veterans.
"…You're bringing rookies, so day trips, right?"
"Exactly. Overnight stays would be too mentally taxing for them."
Shortest routes, veterans handling floor bosses—possible, maybe?
"Regarding monsters on the way: ten rookie parties total. Those ahead get rotated among the rookies to fight. Anything flanking or from behind gets handled by escorts."
Escorts meaning us—A-ranks and higher, like me and Selma.
Rotating ten parties for front-line fights, escorts cleaning up ambushes—rookie burden stays low. Combat exposure drops to maybe a tenth of normal exploration.
Travel fatigue might balance it out, though…
"Escorts total five, including me and you. Each takes two parties. If your assigned rookies get in real trouble mid-fight, step in. Upper layers: let them build their own battles. From thirty-one—mid-layers onward—escorts give combat directions."
The southern great labyrinth divides roughly into four zones:
Floors 1–30: upper
31–60: middle
61–90: lower
91+: deep
Deeper floors bring stronger monsters and vaster areas, naturally.
Party ranks follow average depth reached: C for upper, B for middle, A for lower, S for deep.
"That covers the basics. Any questions?"
Questions? This plan had holes you could drive a carriage through…
But they knew that. Pointing them out wouldn't change anything.
I'd ask the one thing that bugged me most.
"Just one. Why only five escorts? For a schedule this brutal, why not bring multiple full A-rank parties and let veterans handle everything, monsters included?"
"That's… true, the goal is getting rookies to fifty-one. But this is rare—high-level support for a dungeon run. It's a golden chance for growth. Wasting it by coddling them feels wrong, doesn't it?"
Pure lip service.
This plan should prioritize results. Process be damned. The clan had to know that.
Yet they stuck with this lineup for some deeper reason—one they weren't sharing.
Selma wore her feelings plainly; a little probing might get something.
But with Vince Briars here, pushing too hard could backfire.
"…Understood. It'll be a tough three days, but I'll do my part."
"Thanks. Now, compensation: two gold upfront, ten more on completion. Acceptable?"
…That's generous.
Currency here runs iron → small copper → large copper → small silver → large silver → gold → platinum.
Ten of one equals one of the next.
Roughly, one gold covers a commoner's month of living.
"I'm fine with it, but isn't that high?"
"It's what we think you're worth. Counting on you starting tomorrow."
"Got it. I'll give it everything I've got."
In the end, the Commander never spoke once.
What was he even here for?