In [Dungeon Log], the 'tavern' was a place meant solely for the 'recruit companions' feature.
Now, however, it wasn't.
From what I could see right now, an 'arena' event was held here.
"Fight! Fight!"
"Dogfolk! I bet on you! Don't lose!"
"Are you planning to lose to a Beastfolk?!"
Two brawlers traded blows and rolled across the floor in the heated atmosphere.
With thousands of gold riding on the outcome, the crowd's cheers and groans traded places every time a fist flew out.
POW!
"Nice! Smash that long snout of his!"
"You bastard! How are you gonna beat a Goblin fighting like that?!"
THWACK!
"Take a beast punch, you fucker!"
"Quit trying to look cool and keep your guard up straight!"
Since it wasn't a bout between great masters, the fight didn't drag on for long.
By the time a few tables had been flipped and two or three chairs smashed to pieces, it was settled.
"Huff... huff..."
The black Dogfolk breathed heavily.
With his dirtied clothes and fur and his bruised, swollen face, he clearly didn't look unscathed at a glance, but lying in front of him was the human, knocked out cold with his eyes rolled back.
At the clean knockout, the onlookers who had bet on the Beastfolk let out a roaring cheer.
"Yeeeah!!"
"Thanks to you, I'm drinking for free tonight!"
"Good job, you bastard!"
And into my hand came 800 gold—my 500 gold plus 300 gold in winnings.
***
The arena event that had broken out in the tavern.
One slightly surprising detail here was that the man who had run the betting and collected the money was none other than the owner of the tavern.
He even took a cut out of my winnings as a commission.
No wonder nobody stepped in to stop them even when the shop was getting trashed; this must be one of their sources of income, too.
Filing away that new piece of information, I found one of the intact seats and sat down.
After I waited briefly, the tavern owner walked over.
"You're the fella who won a whole 300 gold earlier. Since you won big, gonna order something nice?"
"Got a menu?"
"Nah, truth is, we only serve one thing. I'll bring you a nice cold mug."
I didn't know why he bothered asking, then, but either way, the beer arrived properly.
The side dish was cheap sausages split open here and there.
'Alcohol... It's been a while.'
I had tried drinking a few times right after coming of age, and barely touched it since.
Because if I had time to drink, I spent it playing [Dungeon Log] instead.
To begin with, I never really saw what special meaning there was in borrowing the power of a substance to ruin your mind and health anyway.
'Still, I should probably eat and drink.'
Ordering it and just sitting here without touching it would look way too weird, after all.
The saving grace, at least, was that just as the owner had said, the beer was ice-cold.
Although it was somewhat different from modern beer, the flavor with its sharp burst of barley aroma was drinkable enough.
Not that it could hide being cheap alcohol meant purely for getting drunk, though.
Nibbling on the sausage and sipping the beer little by little, I opened my ears to the conversations around me.
"Did you hear? They say the Derahion Team found the passage to the 7th floor this time."
"The 7th floor? That's got nothing to do with us anyway. I don't even know what it looks like down there."
"Heard it's a horribly gruesome place. They say your life dries right up just from stepping inside."
"Even for a high floor of the labyrinth, does that make any sense?"
"About that eastern kingdom on the continent."
"Was it the Kingdom of Tet?"
"Heard quite a large group came in from there yesterday. According to a friend of mine living in District 12, most of them seem to be people sent directly by the kingdom."
"Did some big shot run away to this place or something?"
"Some say it's the king's concubine, and some say it's an illegitimate son."
"Hah... Hear those Raider bastards have been moving in teams lately?"
"Tell me about it—I ran into a team on my way back from finishing my last expedition, didn't I? Good thing I was in one piece back then; if I'd been injured, I would've been dead for sure. Might just be a rumor going around, though, but people say there's even a Raider clan."
"Shouldn't the investigation squad be sending in undercover agents or something?"
"That's what I'm saying."
It wasn't clear-cut knowledge like something written in a document, but all sorts of miscellaneous details poured in at random.
There is no need to filter for only key information.
Because every last word of it will raise the resolution of this world as seen through my eyes.
While I was eavesdropping on various conversations like that, the tavern owner suddenly walked over and sat down in the empty seat across from me.
"For a young fella, you sure drink like it tastes awful."
Well, that's because I don't really like it.
When I only thought that to myself and didn't reply, the tavern owner went on by himself.
"Are you an Explorer?"
"That's right."
"Doesn't look like you've been at it long. How many times have you been to the labyrinth?"
"Once."
"What?"
"Came back yesterday."
"...Don't tell me that mug is the first drink you've had since coming back?"
"It is, though."
"Then your companions..."
"As you can see."
"Oh, dear..."
I had only given him curt answers because I was busy listening in on the surrounding conversations, yet the tavern owner's expression darkened rapidly.
Did I offend him...? I wondered, but that didn't seem to be it.
The look on his face was thick with pity and sympathy.
"Right from your first expedition... Yeah, you must've gone through hell."
"...?"
What bullshit is he talking about?
Before I could even grasp the situation, the tavern owner sprang to his feet.
"Here with us tonight! Is a fella who came back alone from his very first expedition!"
Wait, don't tell me he thinks all my other companions died?
"Share your comfort with this grieving Explorer!"
"No..."
"There's nothing to be ashamed of! And nothing to feel guilty about! Because it isn't your fault, or anyone's fault!"
"No, listen to me..."
"The best way to comfort those who have departed! Is to forget them! And live well yourself!"
The mood was going horribly wrong.
Before my explanation could even come out, the tavern owner raised his mug and shouted—
"Forget! Drink to forget!!"
The other patrons raised their voices together.
"Driiink!!"
"Driiink!!"
Their eyes all turned toward me at once.
It wasn't hard for me to sense what was about to happen next.
"Ah."
Another surprise tavern event had begun.
Looks like going back sober is out of the question.
***
I opened my eyes.
Before those words, 'a state of having lost consciousness for some time' usually comes attached.
Simply put, I had blacked out.
"Guh..."
My very first time passing out from a substance in my entire life.
My arms and legs were so numb it was uncomfortable to move, and my head was screaming as if it were about to split open any second.
"Water..."
"Here you go."
I took the cup someone handed me and poured it straight into my mouth.
Pure moisture, which makes up 70% of the human body, swept down my wrecked throat.
"Phew..."
I leaned roughly against a nearby wall and sat there.
Fuck me, I feel like I'm dying.
The good news, at least, was that all my belongings were intact.
Probably meant there hadn't been any bad guys around.
In truth, their intentions had been good, hadn't they?
If I had genuinely been going through a rough time, this whole incident might have been quite a comfort.
Granted, I wasn't having a rough time at all, and I'd received pain instead of comfort, but... anyway.
"You woke up sooner than I thought."
Just as I was thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea to go right back to sleep like this, a voice came from beside me.
Probably the person who had given me water earlier.
Lifting my head with some effort to check, I saw the face of a man who looked to be in his forties.
"Did you wait for me?"
"Couldn't have something happening to you, now could I?"
"Where's the owner?"
"Business hours ended, so he went to bed."
"...?"
I wondered what kind of nonsense this was now, too, but I decided not to think about it.
He could be the shop owner's friend, or family, or just some nutjob.
My head already hurt way too much to sit around puzzling over every little thing like that.
Ah, still, I should say what needs to be said.
"Thanks."
"It's nothing. Besides, aren't you having a harder time than me?"
"Ah..."
I started to explain the misunderstanding, then stopped myself.
For the exact same reason.
It's too much of a bother right now.
"What's your name?" "Yuta."
"I'm called Mudil."
A middle-aged man introducing himself out of nowhere, Mudil.
Looking again, I saw his expression had grown quite serious.
When our eyes met, a low, heavy voice flowed out.
"I don't really like forming a fixed team. I tend to gather whatever people I need at the time and head into the labyrinth. Truth is, it isn't a very good method, but... after the friends I shared life and death with vanished all in a single moment, I became afraid of building deep bonds."
"..."
"Makes me a pathetic coward. For the friends who died for my sake, I can't even live out their share of life... That's the kind of coward I am."
Swallowing once, Mudil continued.
"Don't you end up like me."
"I won't."
A brief silence settled after my flat reply, but Mudil soon asked a new question.
"...Are you planning to go back into the labyrinth next time, too?"
"That's right."
"Why?"
To that question, I answered honestly.
"Because that's the only thing I can do."
Once I answered, I found myself curious this time, too.
"What about you? Why do you keep going into the labyrinth? If you're that much of a coward, quitting being an Explorer would be best."
"My daughter is sick. Nobody knows the name of the illness, and they say healing magic has to be cast on her regularly just to maintain her condition."
"So it's for the money."
In this world's setting, healing magic was extremely expensive.
Because a mage on the continent had to reach at least the 4th Class to use it, and inside the labyrinth, healing-type skills only started appearing from the 6th floor onward.
"Well, in the end, that's what it comes down to."
It was a pretty cliché backstory.
And being cliché meant there were plenty of characters with similar backstories in [Dungeon Log], too.
Therefore, it wasn't hard for me to guess this man's future, either.
Most likely, as her symptoms kept worsening, she would need treatment more and more often, and as he needed that much more money, he would push himself into an expedition beyond his skill and die—and the family that lost its breadwinner would naturally collapse as well.
"Tsk."
When my thoughts reached that point, I clicked my tongue without realizing it.
Because I knew now that this wasn't just some dime-a-dozen backstory of a character on a screen.
Maybe it was because of the alcohol buzzing heavily through me, or maybe 'Yuta' was a guy with a pretty soft heart.
Or else—
'Maybe I just see myself in him.'
Even if it was a misunderstanding, just as Mudil, who had lost all his friends once upon a time, had seen himself in me.
In any case, I found myself speaking to Mudil.
"What's your Explorer grade?"
"I'm 3-Star."
"Then you must've been to the 3rd floor."
"I mainly work down there."
"If you check the rest areas on the 3rd floor, there will sometimes be Kiyulipto in the backyard... purple grass with white flowers blooming on it. Cut a leaf from it and feed it to your daughter."
"...Hm? What are you talking about all of a sudden?"
"Then her illness will be cured."
"Wait, what is all this..."
"Don't argue and just listen. First, the medicinal effect only exists when the flower is in bloom, so if it hasn't bloomed yet, wait until it does. Keep in mind that you must only pick the very first leaf after the flower blooms. If you find one already in bloom, but there are signs that another leaf has already been torn or cut off, either wait until a new flower blooms or go find a different flower altogether."
"..."
Before I knew it, Mudil was writing down the words coming out of my mouth in a notebook.
"Ah, and the most important thing."
"...?"
"Don't die. Because if you die, your daughter will die too."
With those final words, I closed my eyes again.
Probably because the alcohol rising back up was pressing heavily down on my eyelids.
...
It is an intoxicating night.