It has already been two weeks and four days since that day. Since then, I haven’t seen Rika even once. A lot has happened in her absence—like bringing Miyu with me to work. It was strange at first, but somehow it worked. She helped load and unload equipment, faster than most workers, honestly.

  With Rika gone, I found myself with more free time after shifts. I spent it studying circuits in my free time, something that occupies my mind in the quiet days… the days before everything began to change.

  One afternoon, the ventilation system nearly failed entirely in the work. The air was slowly becoming toxic, but Miyu noticed the change just by scent alone. Thanks to her, I managed to repair the system before it reached lethal levels. The fix wasn’t perfect, but it saved everyone in the mine that day. Nobody even realized how close they were to suffocating.

  Things happened that were keeping my head occupied until monday where the meeting was occurring.

  That day I was sitting in the main office. The doorknob turned. My whole body tensed.

  A tall man stepped inside—long beard, polished tuxedo, hair gray but perfectly kept, like one of those powerful old men from stories who are usually the sensei of the protagonist.

  Next to him stood someone dressed exactly like him, but this one wasn’t old—he was an adult with orange-brown hair and dark glasses. He also had a headset mic, the kind that lets you report things directly to someone. Maybe they were recording the session. Whatever it was, it looked cool on him.

  “Wow… same as the manga I’ve read” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I cleared my throat and straightened up fast, reminding myself who he was. Someone like him could end my job with one sentence. Respect wasn’t a choice—it was survival.

  “Hello, good afternoon,” I greeted him.

  The old man greeted me with a calm smile, his posture relaxed. It made the meeting far easier than I expected… even though his behavior didn’t match the powerful aura he gave off just by standing there.

  He clasped his hands together.

  “We received news of the deadline from Tenque. We were surprised someone would make us wait—but since we were coming to the city anyway, we let it pass.”

  His expression stayed light, eyebrows raised, lips tilted in that classic ‘what can you do?’ smile.

  “We’ve heard a lot about you,” he added, and for a moment his eyes sharpened. “We know you cleared the mines of rats.”

  “Oh, that was nothing,” I said, shrugging.

  “But that’s not all. We heard the news about you the other day about how you fixed the ventilation system. You showed us you’re more than just a miner. You’re a wild card. A full package.” He smirks

  “It was luck… and curiosity. I just tried my best,” I replied, uneasy under his gaze.

  “Experience matters more than any diploma,” he said, calm but firm. “You saved more than you realize.”

  I wanted to point out how unsafe the whole place really was, how the mines were barely holding together—but I bit my tongue. This wasn’t the moment.

  “Thanks for your words,” I managed.

  “We don’t usually come only to offer a thanks,” he continued, “but you’re luckier than you think. We want to give you another job offer instead of our original proposal.”

  He held up two fingers and watched my reaction.

  “Oh… that’s great.”

  “Yes, great indeed. Like you heard from the job in the north—this new place is even farther. It’s in another kingdom.”

  He leaned back. “Tell me, have you heard of the Cavern Salts?”

  I blinked. “What’s a Cavern Salt?”

  The man beside him stepped forward. The old man gestured at him.

  “My assistant will explain.”

  The man nodded. “I’m George. Ex-miner. I’ll tell you what the Cavern Salts are.”

  George cleared his throat.

  “The Sea Cavern Salts are natural deposits deep in underground caverns near the coast. They form over decades as seawater seeps in and evaporates, leaving thick layers of pure salt. Mining them isn’t easy—the caverns are narrow, wet, and sometimes unstable. Every step matters.”

  He motioned with his hands as if tracing the cavern walls.

  “Miners extract the salt with chisels or small drills, haul the chunks to the surface, and reinforce weak sections to prevent collapse. It’s precise work—one wrong move can bring the whole place down.”

  Then he focused on me.

  “But for you, Daryn, we don’t expect only digging. We’re a large company, not only focused on miners and for that we need someone efficient. Someone who thinks ahead. You’d inspect machinery, manage small extraction devices, and keep things running—something like a technician, though that’s not your sole task.”

  He continued:

  “You’d also work with ocean-linked operations, offshore platforms, and guide miners through tricky passages like weak floors or narrow tunnels. It’s a step up in responsibility. The good thing is the pay, we think about as high as 2,000 gold coins per day.”

  He paused to let the number sink in.

  Before I could speak he continued.

  “The caverns are unforgiving,” he said. “But if you succeed, you’ll prove you’re capable of far more than anyone imagined.”

  The old man stepped forward again.

  “Of course, we’d cover any training for new machinery. If you need to learn to handle heavy vehicles, we’d make sure you can. We’re not forcing you—there are many skilled men we could hire. But since you’re already on the team, we’d prefer you as our first choice.”

  He folded his arms. “So, what do you say?”

  “So I have to choose between those two? But… the other one is farther. I asked before, but I need to confirm—do I have to pay for moving out of the kingdom?”

  “We’d give you a place near the shore,” he said. But If you bring a family, then you’d pay for them.” He says while closing his eyes like this is just a simple matter “ but if you worry about that the nearest city is a tourist zone, but the prices are twice as high as you imagine.”

  North mine of rare minerals…

  Or the Cavern Salt job.

  I took a long breath. Then forced the words out:

  “No. Thanks. I prefer staying inside the kingdom, with the original proposal.”

  The old man nodded—somewhere between relieved and disappointed.

  The meeting didn’t last much longer after that.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  As a parting gift, Bunchy helped me use the bank of this world. Since I’ve never used one in my real world this world is new for me. Thanks to him, I easily got a loan to buy a car for mobility. Sorey and Josh gave me a shovel and a pickaxe, since mine were broken. Those tools weren’t the typical cheap ones; I bet they spent a good amount of money to buy them for me. In the end, it was a farewell… until we could see each other again.

  The new place I moved to, I thought it would feel different, but it’s actually quite similar. It feels like I never left. Still, the distance is too large for me to visit Rika every day.

  I rented a simple room — more like a storage closet, really — with barely enough space to breathe. Around 3 square meters. At least the price is cheap. Sometimes the smell gets so bad even I can’t stand it, mostly because the room doesn’t have a private bathroom. As a result, I can’t take a proper shower. Now I finally understand what Cantheris meant when she said I smelled. After work I’m just soaked in sweat, especially under the armpits.

  There’s only one shared bathroom on the second floor. Three floors, and only two bathrooms in the whole building. That sucks… but fifty gold coins per month is pretty cheap. The noise at night is annoying too — drunk people on the floor below yelling like they’re having marital problems.

  At least not all is bad news. My first day at the new job was actually pretty good. I handled the bulldozer without wasting time. My new boss, someone named Paul, is surprisingly nice — much better than Tenque. Still because he is chill does not mean his presence drips respect.

  So long it has been two weeks since that day I left the previous mine.

  And now I’m standing in a public phone booth, telling all of this to—

  “So what do you think?”

  “Daryn, why did you call me just to tell me all this?”

  “I don’t have anyone to talk to. It’s kind of lonely here, you know.”

  Out in the streets, I feel cold—my body temperature has dropped, and I’m twitching unconsciously from it. I’m nervous too, because I’m starting to regret talking to Lucian. But I needed someone to talk to, even if his voice makes it sound like he doesn’t care. I guess feeling hollow pushes you to do things you don’t really want to as long as you being heard. I suppose people are social creatures after all.

  “If you have money to call me, why don’t you just call Rika?”

  “I tried, but she hangs up the moment she hears my voice.”

  Julian sighs. “I think it’s obvious. You should’ve been more direct, instead of giving her false hope.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t just say no.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Even if the truth hurts, a lie hurts more. Even if you think you’re doing the right thing—the consequences of your actions are still yours. Live with it. That’s your choice.

  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

  The hang-up feels sharp, louder than the actual words.

  Now all I want is to talk to someone—but who?

  The glass door slides open.

  Talking to Miyu is like talking to a wall. She’s out of place in all of this. I know she’s trying to be kind, but her mindset is closed off—solid like a rock. She doesn’t have enough human experience to actually understand me. She only agrees with everything I say instead of giving an opinion, a pushback, but even worse she likes to joke or do not take seriously a topic

  And right now, that kind of empty words would only ignite something ugly inside me.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Daryn, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Miyu. Don’t worry. And you? Is your back any better?”

  The room isn’t big enough for both of us, so Miyu has been secretly sleeping on the roof every night. I’ve been worried about her ever since that last fight with the zombie hero. She recovered quickly—too quickly.

  And every time I remember the look on her face when she teased me for worrying about her, I get embarrassed all over again.

  “I’m fine!” she says with her usual bright confidence.

  Damn it—her confidence and cuteness are completely ruining my bad mood. I’m not even sure if that’s a good thing or not. I feel strangely unsteady, even though I’m supposed to be at the best moment of my life right now.

  We head back to our spot, settle in, and go to sleep.

  —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  In the morning it is time for me to go to work.

  “Are you taking the scroll with you?”

  “Yes, miyu… Yes… Why are you asking me that every single day… is annoying”

  “You don’t know when something like that could happen again!!”

  “I know, I know—but please, hearing that every day is driving me insane!”

  Her expression shifts into something almost afraid of me, but it’s just these last couple of days. I keep waking up grumpier. It’s getting harder and harder to sleep, and I don’t even know why. My mind won’t stop circling the same thought—did I make the right choice?—and it eats at me for at least two hours before I can even try to rest.

  At least I found some kind of solution. At night I’ve gone back to that old technique of counting sheep. It’s… working, sort of. I usually get bored around number eighty and feel tired, but sometimes I have to count all the way to two hundred twenty-five before my brain finally gives up.

  “Fine, fine… But yeah” I show her the scroll” see? A new scroll, I know you are worry and Being honest I am, but we can’t live with that fear, so relax”

  “Fine… if you say so..”

  The thing is, the scroll needs magic to work, and I don’t know anyone in this city who can fill it. I show it to her anyway, mostly to make her feel comfortable, even if it’s useless for now. Still… I might find someone eventually. And who knows—maybe one day I’ll actually need Miyu’s help.

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  “Ey, Daryn. Good morning,” Paul says. He’s the typical relaxed superior—dark blond hair, a mustache, a jacket over his work clothes. You can tell he doesn’t spend as much time in the messy zones as Tenque does.

  “Ey, Paul. What are you doing here in the parking lot?”

  “Well, first charge of the morning. Today’s the day—we finally pick the fruits of our work.”

  “A lot of ore.”

  “The ore, right…” He nods, then eyes my car. “So this is your car, huh? Not bad. First time I see it.”

  “Thanks. It’s small, but it works.”

  “Hahaha, yeah, but don’t worry. Soon you’ll earn enough to buy something better.” He checks the time. “Look, it’s ten minutes before start. Go ahead and get ready.”

  The mine is huge. People work on the surface and deep inside, but I usually stay above ground with the rest of the Bulldozers. This place is much bigger than the other mines I’ve been in. The good thing is everything here feels organized—everyone acts professional, the ventilation systems work perfectly, and everyone is well equipped.

  The only weird thing is the voices people talk about—the one you hear when working down in the lower tunnels. At least that’s what the others gossip about. Honestly, I don’t doubt it.

  “This mine’s one of the most productive in the region… but also one of the most dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? How so?”

  Paul leans in with a mischievous grin. “This mine is close to a dungeon.”

  “Close?” I raise an eyebrow, unease creeping in.

  “Relax. There’s a ten-meter-thick hard layer between us and the dungeon walls. Still, if you go deep enough, you might hear… things.”

  Paul waves me over, clipboard tucked under his arm. “Daryn guess what, you’re on the bulldozer again.”

  I smirk. “All right, never thought you let me touch the big toy.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky. I need that east ridge cleared—tight corners near the slope, so keep it steady. You know the drill.”

  “CAT D9, right?” I ask, already sliding my gloves on. “Blade control’s a bit stiff on that one.”

  “Just got it serviced yesterday,” he says. “She’ll handle fine as long as you don’t overrev the engine.”

  “Relax,” I grin, climbing into the cab. “You’re talking to a professional, not a tourist.”

  The engine growls to life under my hands—a deep, familiar sound that vibrates through my chest. I test the hydraulics, adjust the blade angle, and ease forward. The ground crunches beneath the treads as I push a wall of gravel toward the ridge, smooth and even.

  Paul watches from below, arms crossed, yelling over the engine. “Keep your distance from the southern wall! That thing’s still unstable!”

  “I know what I’m doing!” I shout back, keeping the throttle steady.

  The blade bites into a heavier patch of earth, but I counter quickly, lifting and tilting in one motion to keep the push clean. The slope levels perfectly—no wasted motion, no struggle.

  For a while, it’s just rhythm: engine hum, metal grind, my breath syncing with the pulse of the machine. Then, just faintly beneath the roar, I catch it—something like a low echo from deep underground.

  Paul glances up, frowning. “You hear that? Let me check that”

  I pause the dozer, engine idling. The sound fades, leaving only the wind and the machine’s purr.

  “Probably just pressure shifts,” I say, though something in my gut twists. “Let’s just hope the dungeon stays asleep.”

  But Paul doesn’t stop and he goes to check the source of the sound.

  As I finish my first run and take a quick break, I hear shouting echoing from the other side of the site. Curiosity pulls me closer until I spot Paul surrounded by a few workers, his face red with anger.

  “We’re paying you a lot, and you can’t even do one damn job right?!” he roars, kicking a pile of dirt. “You sick bastards just cost us weeks of progress! Half a month—gone!”

  One of the men stammers, voice trembling, “B-but boss, we can work extra hours to fix it—”

  “Extra hours?!” Paul snaps, gripping his helmet in frustration. “That means I pay extra to a bunch of people who don’t even know which end of a pickaxe to hold! Damn it!” He scratches his head hard, pacing. “Now we can’t even bring in the heavy machinery—no space, no foundation… this sucks. And you have to do it today! Damn it! any moment now they’re gonna show up—”

  Before he finishes, the sound of sirens cuts through the noise. Everyone freezes. A convoy of armored vehicles rolls in from the main road, followed by knights in company insignia and men in clean uniforms.

  Even before I see their faces, I know who they are. The air shifts, heavy with authority. The top of the market—the representatives of the mining company. They were coming for the ore, but it is unexpected for me that they are bringing such a group of vehicles with them. Like who needs medics just for a transaction of ore.

  I stand still, arms crossed, as the men step out. Their polished boots don’t belong here among the mud and sweat. One of them looks around the site with disgust before fixing his gaze on Paul.

  This is about to get ugly.

  I tap one of the workers nearby, keeping my voice low. “Hey, what the hell happened?”

  He glances around nervously before replying, “The demolition crew screwed up the TNT placements. Most of the inner passages got hit wrong—collapsed halfway or filled with debris. Some are completely blocked.”

  I whistle under my breath. “Damn…”

  Paul stands there, his usual tough expression cracking. For the first time, I see sweat running down his temple. Then, one of the newcomers—a man in a spotless business suit and polished shoes—steps forward. His presence alone is enough to silence everyone.

  “Paul,” the man says coolly, adjusting his glasses. “We put you in charge of this site. Our radar detects an emergency system and it flagged this area as a high-level alert. This doesn’t look like a minor infestation. Explain.”

  The soldiers shift around Paul, boxing him in. His mouth opens, but his voice stumbles. “S-sir, I—it was the—there was a misfire with the—”

  “Enough excuses,” the man cuts him off sharply.

  The rest of us are pushed back by the soldiers, told to take a break while the higher-ups “handle” things. I start to move away, but my eyes can’t help drifting back.

  Paul’s trying to stand his ground, but then—one of the soldiers shoves him down hard, boot pressing against his back. He doesn’t fight back. He just grits his teeth, eyes on the dirt.

  I sigh quietly.

  For all his yelling and temper, it must be rough being the one who takes the blame when everything goes wrong.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  While we take a break, one of the late workers wanders over, still brushing dust off his uniform. He looks confused, probably because he just saw the tail end of what happened.

  “So,” someone asks him, “did you see them talking?”

  He nods quickly. “Talking? Nah—they were beating Paul. The knights were kicking and punching him like he stole something.”

  That gets everyone murmuring. Miners are tired, sore, and always hungry for a story, so gossip spreads fast.

  “So those guys in suits… they’re the bosses, huh?” someone says.

  “They look scary?” another snorts. “They are scary. You know Jorge? The one who tried to sue them over the hazard pay? He was winning the case. Then—poof. Gone. Him and his whole family.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, really. Ask anyone from the old crew.”

  “That’s nothing,” another miner says, leaning on his shovel. “Those people run more than just mining. The rumor is they control half the markets in this kingdom. Some call them the Elite Syndicate. You don’t cross them unless you’ve got a death wish.”

  We all laugh, but it’s the nervous kind of laughter—the kind that only makes the silence heavier afterward.

  Then Paul appears from the corridor.

  He’s trying to walk normally, but we can see it—his face is swollen, his lip’s split, and red marks streak his neck. Still, he’s smiling like nothing happened.

  “Alright, guys,” he says hoarsely, clapping his hands. “Listen up! We’re gonna work extra hard today!”

  He starts splitting us into groups, then calls forward the ones responsible for the TNT mess. Eleven men. They look pale, trembling.

  “So,” he says, voice calm. “You guys wanna keep working?”

  “Y-yes, boss!” they answer in unison.

  Paul’s smile doesn’t fade. He takes one slow step forward—then unleashes a brutal road kick into the first man’s face. The rest flinch as he goes down hard.

  “Work harder, huh?” Paul snarls, his voice cracking with rage. “You cost us weeks!”

  Then the other two try to stand but Paul was quick and kicked them, I can see the fresh blood drops to the floor.

  He hits them again, one after another. No one dares to move. When he’s finally done, he spits on the ground beside them and straightens his helmet.

  “You got off easy,” he mutters, wiping his mouth. “Most of my paycheck’s gone thanks to you.”

  Then, just like that, he turns and shouts, “Alright! Back to work!”

  No one says a word. We just pick up our tools and follow orders.

  Paul gathers everyone around, his voice echoing through the cavern, still rough from all the yelling earlier.

  “Alright, listen up! Half of you focus on clearing debris from the blocked tunnels—everyone else, keep collecting ore and anything valuable. We’re not shutting down for anyone, got it?”

  No one dares to argue.

  He turns toward me, his expression softening slightly. “Daryn, you and your group—debris removal. Use the conveyor belts to move the cleared rubble. You’ve got magnetic boots, right? That should make things easier for you down there.”

  I nod. Magnetic boots aren’t standard issue—too pricey for most miners. I bought mine years ago when I was doing solo recovery work, and they’ve saved me more than once. In a place like this, full of heavy machinery and unstable platforms, they’re worth every coin.

  Paul hands me a small pouch. “Take these.”

  I open it and frown. “Mini TNTs? Wouldn’t that make things worse?”

  He shakes his head. “Not these. They’re low-yield. Just enough to loosen compacted rock and dirt. We can’t risk using the big ones—not with half the tunnels still unstable. We don’t even know how many sections are blocked.”

  “I see,” I say, studying the tiny sticks. They’re small but dense—meant for precision work.

  “Here.” Paul hands me a folded map, smudged with dirt and oil. “Start from section three and move inward. If you find a path that connects to the lower shafts, mark it with chalk. And for the love of the gods—don’t go near any red-marked routes. That’s where the collapse is heaviest.”

  I give him a thumbs-up and start walking toward the debris zone. My boots click softly against the metal floor as the magnets engage, giving me a steady grip on the uneven ground.

  The air is heavy with dust and the smell of burnt powder. I pull my mask tighter and light the fuse on the first mini TNT.

  “Alright,” I mutter under my breath. “Let’s clear this mess up.”

  I work for hours, but it’s still not enough. I traced the blocked paths, set TNT at the entrances and exits of every blocked passage, and used my floating ability to reach the trickiest spots. Efficiency mattered.

  Without wasting a second, I hunted down the free conveyor belts and started loading the debris on them.

  “Only fifteen more to go,” I muttered, brushing crumbs from my hands as distant explosions echoed through the mine.

  The crew works carefully. Some detonate hard shell layers; others chip at softer dirt with drills and pickaxes. The air is thick, heavy with dust, but I’m used to it by now. Around me, miners stumble under sacks of coal, sweat streaming, exhaustion etched into their faces.

  By the map, I confirm the surface-level conveyor belts are done. But the mine descends deeper—five floors in total. I head to the final level, set the last charges, and detonate the last bombs.

  “Done,” I exhale.

  A sound reaches me—metal striking metal, distant but sharp. Ten meters of rock should mute anything from below. Whoever it is, they’re no ordinary miner; a highly skilled adventurer, no doubt.

  “It’s nice to work here,” I murmur to no one. “But… their life must be more exciting.”

  On my way back to the first floor, I see a man collapsed from exhaustion, his face pale.

  “If Paul finds out… I’m done for,” he mutters, trembling.

  “Take it easy. It’s just a job,” I say.

  He grabs me by the shoulders and he exclaims and yelling

  While I have to do the cleaning from that disaster, others might work about the daily routine, and now that that personnel is dividing we are working twice as hard.

  “But I have debts… my family!”

  His words hit me hard. For a moment, Rika, my debts, my family flashed through my mind. I understand his pain. Without another word, I picked up his bag and carried them to their designated spots. Each full bag had to be placed fifteen meters apart, and there were plenty.

  At the last one, a scream cut through the air—a female voice, faint but unmistakable.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask the man.

  “Probably an adventurer in the dungeon,” he shrugs.

  “No, this isn’t from the dungeon,” I insist. “It’s outside. Where?”

  He pauses, thinking. “West side… there’s a wormhole built by giant moles. Could be coming from there.”

  “Someone needs help.”

  “We’re miners, not heroes. It’s not our job to risk our lives,” he says.

  “I know but—”

  If I save her, maybe she’ll be my girlfriend… I think, and a stupid grin creeps onto my face.

  “Daryn, focus!” I shake my head to snap myself out of it.

  Then I reach the biggest obstacle yet: an intersection. Three paths stretch out before me—left, middle, and right.

  I strain my ears, trying to pick up any difference in the sounds, but they’re equally faint from all directions. The choice isn’t clear.

  Which path should I take?