I shook my head as I answered Juzo-san’s question.
“I don’t know if it can be moved or not.”
“You don’t know? What’s this, Kokonoe boy? You haven’t even checked whether it’s possible?”
Juzo-san directed a somewhat exasperated look at me. I suppose that reaction was only natural. After a light cough, I explained my reasoning.
“I haven't tested it yet because I’m not sure what would happen to the dungeon if the desk moved. If the connection were severed, would the dungeon simply vanish? Would the entrance manifest somewhere else in the house? Or would there be no problem at all? I couldn't predict the outcome, so I was too afraid to try.”
“...I see. Indeed, the possibilities you mention aren't entirely out of the question.”
Juzo-san seemed to accept my explanation for why I’d maintained the status quo. However, he didn't let the matter rest.
“But you can’t just leave it unverified forever, can you?”
“That’s true, but...”
“Certainly, those risks exist. But you can’t stand still forever out of fear, can you? You can’t just leave it like this and do nothing.”
“...Yes.”
In response to Juzo-san’s prompting, we all lowered our eyes. He was right—we couldn’t afford to hesitate indefinitely. Whether we decided to keep it secret or go public, we had to know if the dungeon was mobile. I had considered testing it before, but the fear of losing it had kept me paralyzed. Now that a year had passed since dungeons first appeared and the global chaos was beginning to subside, we had to act. If we didn't take the initiative now, someone else eventually would. Once the world settled into the new reality, people would inevitably start digging into the anomalies of the early days.
With Juzo-san providing the final push, I steeled my resolve.
“...I understand. I’ll make thorough preparations and then confirm whether or not the desk can be moved. Is that all right with you, Yuji, Hiiragi-san?”
“Yeah,” Yuji replied with a serious look of determination. “It’s a fact that we can’t keep stalling forever. We just have to do it.”
“You’re right,” Hiiragi-san added. “We don’t really have a choice.”
I nodded at them, then decided to bring up the second part of the plan.
“Thank you, Yuji, Hiiragi-san. But before we test the desk, there’s one more thing I want to verify. Will you help me with it?”
“What is it?” Yuji asked.
“I want to go inside the drawer... into the Slime Dungeon itself to investigate. Our knowledge of the internal structure is limited to what we can see by peeking through the opening.”
This was something I had been considering for a long time. Aside from the desk’s mobility, I was curious about the dungeon’s nature. Why did only slimes appear there? However, the uncertainty had always been too high for me to risk a dive.
“Based on our observations so far, it's almost certain that only various slime species spawn there. But the internal layout is a total unknown. If the entrance ends up manifesting in my room after we move the desk, I want to have a grasp of the interior beforehand. There might even be something like the hidden transfer devices we find in other dungeons.”
“Ah, I see. That makes sense. It’s better to have a map if we’re going to be dealing with the fallout of moving it,” Yuji agreed.
“Kokonoe-kun, can't you just use Appraisal Analysis from the outside?” Hiiragi-san asked.
“If I do it from the top of the drawer, my field of vision is too restricted. There are too many blind spots, like the ceiling. To get a proper reading with Appraisal Analysis, I really need to step inside at least once.”
“I see...”
Yuji and Hiiragi-san looked thoughtful. Since I had been the one advocating for caution until now, my sudden shift toward active investigation seemed to catch them off guard. I bowed my head and made my request.
“I need to know if it's truly just a single room or if there are hidden passages or rooms before we move the desk. But doing a solo investigation is too dangerous. I want one person to come in with me and one person to stay outside as a backup. Will you two help me?”
Silence filled the dojo as I remained bowed.
If we were going to do this safely, we needed three people: myself as the analyzer, a guard to protect me, and a backup outside to handle any unforeseen emergencies. This was the most secure formation I could think of. Even though the enemies were just slimes with clear weaknesses, I didn't want to be caught off guard by a respawn while my attention was focused on the analysis.
“...Alright. I’m in,” Yuji said.
“I’ll help too,” Hiiragi-san added.
“Thank you, both of you.”
I straightened up and thanked them. Seeing that we had reached a consensus, Juzo-san spoke up.
“It seems your talk is finished.”
“Yes. We’ve decided to conduct an internal investigation before we test the desk’s mobility.”
“I see. That is likely for the best. However, be sure to exercise extreme caution.”
“We will,” I replied firmly.
“Very well. We shall resume our discussion once your investigation is complete. But do not attempt to move that desk yet. You must be fully prepared first, or you won't be able to react if something goes wrong.”
“Understood. But Juzo-san, what kind of preparations do you mean specifically?”
Juzo-san crossed his arms and closed his eyes in thought.
“Well... if the desk can be moved, the simplest solution is for the Kokonoe boy to hide it in his Spatial Storage. Even if people are suspicious, they can’t prove anything without the desk as evidence. Some might still pry, but as long as it’s tucked away in your storage, no one can confirm it’s a gateway to a dungeon.”
That would certainly be the cleanest resolution. I could just say I’d disposed of the desk while redecorating. Fortunately, as an explorer and a sole proprietor, I could easily justify buying a new desk as a business expense or equipment investment. Though, since it was the desk my parents had bought me when I started elementary school, I felt a slight pang of sentimental guilt at the thought of "disposing" of it.
“Of course, once you put it away, you must be prepared to never bring it out again,” Juzo-san warned, his gaze sharpening. “If you give in to temptation and keep using it in secret, you will eventually slip up.”
“I understand.”
I nodded tensely. If I hid it but kept taking it out to farm loot, I’d eventually be spotted by a persistent watcher. Once a state agency starts an investigation, they don't stop for years or even decades. Taking the secret to the grave—that was the level of resolve Juzo-san was demanding.
Seeing my expression, Juzo-san’s stern look softened into a wry smile.
“Don’t look so grim. That’s only if the desk is mobile and you choose to keep it hidden yourself. If it can be moved, it’s also perfectly viable to secretly dump the whole problem onto the state.”
“...Is that actually allowed?”
“Of course. The law explicitly states that dungeons are state property. There is no legal issue with a civilian discovering a dungeon and holding it in temporary possession until it can be handed over.”
“Temporary possession? But Juzo-san, I’ve been hiding it for a long time. If the Special Dungeon Act says they belong to the state, wouldn't they charge me with private use of state property?”
I voiced the legal fears that had been weighing on me. But Juzo-san only gave a knowing chuckle.
“No, that won't be an issue. I’ve looked into it. To put it simply, the Special Dungeon Act is a law that establishes the state’s ownership of the dungeons themselves and gives the state preferential purchase rights for the land where they appear.”
“Wait, so...”
“In other words, the law was designed to make it easier for the state to secure dungeon sites under the guise of providing relief to displaced residents. The government cannot easily seize private land; forced expropriation takes years of red tape. This law was created to bypass those issues. It contains no explicit penalties for failing to report a dungeon.”
Hearing his explanation, I realized I’d been completely mistaken. I had assumed the law was a tool for the state to enforce its ownership with criminal penalties for those who interfered. But according to Juzo-san, the reality was different.
On the surface, it was a relief act for residents who could no longer live in their homes due to monster activity. In reality, it was a preemptive strike by the state to prevent private companies from buying up dungeon-adjacent land and selling it back to the government at extortionate prices. By establishing preferential purchase rights, the law forced landowners to talk to the state first.
In fact, within a month of the law’s enactment, nearly 90% of dungeon-affected land had been bought up by the state. The only pieces remaining were those with unknown owners or those tied up in inheritance disputes.
“Because it’s framed as a relief act, they can’t exactly write in criminal penalties for not selling your land. However, since the news was full of stories about displaced neighbors suing the people whose property the dungeons appeared on, a public consensus formed that selling to the state was the only 'right' thing to do. Unless you study the bill in detail, it's no wonder you assumed there were penalties. The state claims ownership and promises to compensate for damages, after all...”
The three of us stared at him in shock.
I had been laboring under the assumption that hiding the dungeon was a criminal act. I’d spent all this time convinced that I was a criminal in the eyes of the law.
“By the looks of you, you really didn't know, did you?”
“...No. I just assumed that keeping it a secret was a crime.”
“It’s a lapse in judgment, perhaps, but it’s not a criminal offense. Of course, that doesn't mean it was a good idea! You were incredibly lucky that these monsters don't leave the dungeon. If they had, your family and your neighbors would have paid the price for your silence. Don’t you ever forget that.”
“...I won't.”
Juzo-san narrowed his eyes as he spoke, driving the point home. I felt the weight of how dangerous my choice had truly been. But strangely, being scolded by Juzo-san left me feeling a profound sense of relief.