It was Sunday, so I was mechanically processing a higher volume of explorer registrations than usual. While verifying the Explorer Cards for a group of five who looked like high schoolers, a notification popped up on my screen. I checked the details and saw that a message form was being held for one of the explorers whose card I had just scanned. It seemed to have been left by a corporation... That was unusual.
A quick glance at the personal information on the scanned cards revealed they were only in their first and second years of high school.
"One moment, please."
I printed out the message form and placed it in an envelope bearing the Dungeon Association logo. As I slid the paper inside, the contents happened to catch my eye—purely by accident, of course. It appeared to be an invitation for a corporate scout.
Direct scouting offers from companies are extremely rare. In other words, these kids were explorers with incredible potential.
"Thank you for waiting. Here are your Explorer Cards and your message form."
"Ah, thank you very much."
The student explorers took their cards and the envelope, departing with expressions that mixed anxiety and confusion. Well, it was only natural to react that way after being handed something like that out of the blue.
I returned to processing the next explorer in line. Although I was a bit curious, I soon forgot about them. A few days later, while chatting with a colleague during a break, I happened to bring them up. My coworker was visibly shocked and then seemed deeply convinced. Apparently, they were quite famous around here. According to my colleague, they were among the top five groups of warriors currently diving into this dungeon.
Realizing they weren't just "promising" but were actually top-tier explorers in the present tense, I let out a yelp of surprise that left me quite embarrassed. Afterward, I secretly vowed to be more proactive about memorizing the faces of notable figures.
As a limited-time event item, the shop manager had jokingly created a super-premium dish: thickly sliced seared minotaur sushi. Suddenly, four orders for it came in at once. You have to be kidding me. One plate cost 2,500 yen. It was so expensive that we hadn't received a single order since it went on sale.
I couldn't help but peek out from the kitchen to see who had placed the order.
"That table, huh... Are they going to be okay?"
Sitting at the table were five young men and women. At a glance, they looked like high school students.
I felt a pang of worry, wondering if they had mistaken the price for 250 yen a plate.
"Hey, this order is for real, right?"
"Hm? Which one? Yikes, four plates of this at once? Seriously?"
Thinking I might have misread it, I checked with my colleague, but it didn't seem like I was the one who was wrong.
My coworker muttered with a worried expression, "We can't take cancellations once it's made, so shouldn't we confirm with them before we start?"
"...True."
The suggestion was reasonable. Nodding, I asked the hall staff to confirm the order. It might be rude to the guests, but this was the most expensive item in our shop. If the order was a mistake, it would be a disaster for everyone.
A short while later, the girl from the hall staff returned to the kitchen.
"They said there's no mistake. They don't have a problem with the price, either."
"I see... Got it. Thanks, sorry for the trouble."
"No, don't worry about it. Oh, also, I overheard what they were talking about when I went to the table. It sounds like those guests are explorers."
My eyes widened in surprise. "What? Really?"
"Yeah. They said something like, 'We worked hard in the dungeon, so this is a celebration,' so I think they can handle the bill."
"I see. Then it's fine. I'll get to work right away."
"Please do."
As she left the kitchen, I began preparing the minotaur meat. First, I took the meat from storage and scored the surface in a cross-hatch pattern to make it easier to eat. Given the thickness, those hidden cuts were essential. As I seared the surface of the meat with a torch, a savory aroma began to fill the air.
"That meat always smells incredible."
"Yeah. It's a unique scent of rendered fat, different from beef or pork, but it really works up an appetite."
Gulping down saliva along with my colleague, I moved on to the final steps. After shaping the vinegared rice in my hands, I lined the pieces up on the plates and placed the seared minotaur meat on top. Finally, I topped them with a special sauce jelly... and they were done.
"Alright, finished. Sending them out on the lane."
I placed the plates of seared minotaur sushi onto the order trays and sent all four plates out onto the conveyor belt.
As the plates passed other guests, every eye followed them, lured by the savory scent of the roasted meat. It wasn't just one or two people; almost every guest at every table the plates passed showed the same reaction. One child stared longingly and begged their parent for some, but the parent shook their head after checking the price on the menu.
"It's amazing how much attention it draws just from the smell..."
The plates traveled about three-quarters of the way around the lane before arriving at the table where the high schoolers were sitting. When the other guests realized the people who had ordered the seared sushi were a group of youngsters, they directed looks of shock and envy toward them.
Then, perhaps inspired by the sight of them eating and praising the food, orders for the thickly sliced seared minotaur sushi suddenly began to trickle in from other tables—one here, two there.
"The advertising effect of that smell is incredible. This item was being ignored because of the price, and now we're suddenly getting all these orders."
"True. But more importantly, I have to make them fast..."
While surprised, I continued to prepare more of the seared sushi and sent them out on the lane one after another. Because I was sending them out continuously, the savory, appetite-inducing aroma filled the entire restaurant, and orders flooded in.
In the end, the seared minotaur sushi sold out immediately, but the sales for that day were the highest recorded since the shop opened.
"I really have to thank those high schoolers."
Ever since then, the thickly sliced seared minotaur sushi has become a regular featured item on our shop's menu.
As a taxi pulled into the lit-up roundabout in front of the entrance after sunset, I stepped out to greet the guests. Inside were five young men and women who looked to be in their early teens.
"Welcome. We are glad to have you. Do you have a reservation for your stay?"
I gave a light bow and a smile. Since much of a hotel's first impression is decided here, a polite yet professional greeting while confirming the reservation is vital.
The guest who stepped out of the taxi first looked a bit flustered as he gave a light bow and confirmed they had a reservation.
"Ah, yes. I'm Kokonoe, the one who made the reservation."
"Mr. Kokonoe, I see. Welcome to Hotel Saiun. Shall I carry your luggage for you?"
"Ah, no. These are tools for our work... so we'll carry them ourselves."
The guest offered a noncommittal smile and gently declined my offer to help with the bags. Recently, the number of guests who decline luggage assistance has been increasing.
Those guests all tend to share a common characteristic.
"I see. Then, please proceed to the lobby."
I held the door open as they entered, welcoming the guests and their gear into the hotel.
"...Those kids must be explorers, too."
I muttered quietly to myself as I watched the five of them walk toward the reception desk. The clientele at our hotel has certainly changed recently. It used to be a hideaway hotel mainly for families and couples, but now explorers are the main demographic. This is also an effect of the dungeon that appeared in the nearby mountains.
Once the taxi departed, I returned to my post to wait for the next guest.
I walked toward the trunk room with the guests in tow. Since this type of guest is my primary focus lately, I've become quite accustomed to the routine. When I first started this job, I was always nervous and stiff while guiding explorers carrying weapons, but after more than half a year, it's just a part of daily life. It helps that these guests were high schoolers; I didn't have to be too tense with them.
After walking for a bit, a large, sturdy door appeared before us. It was a newly installed trunk room that the owner had acquired—a repurposed vault door from a bankrupt bank.
"This is the trunk room for storing important items."
I released the door's locking mechanism and slowly swung the heavy door open.
"Please, step inside."
I led them into the trunk room. The interior was simple, with rows of locked doors. There's no need to make it complicated.
I guided them to their assigned locker, said a few words, and stepped several paces away. It was a gesture to show that I wasn't watching them enter their PIN. Some people are sensitive about that, so it's better to retreat before being asked.
"Now, let me explain how to use it."
I carefully gave the explanation I had delivered countless times. In the past, a guest who hadn't listened properly got locked inside and forced their way out by breaking the door. That was a real shock. I suddenly heard a loud noise from inside the room, and then fragments of the broken door went flying as a giant hole was punched through it.
I mean, I was waiting right outside the door, so they could have just shouted for help. I have no idea why their first thought was to smash through it... Thanks to that, alarms blared, the police were called, and I was grilled by other explorers about the state of our security. Ever since then, I've made it a point to explain every single detail with excessive care. Some guests find it annoyingly polite, but I never want to experience that chaos again.
"Now, let's head back out."
Since the guests had finished storing their gear, we all left the trunk room.
I guided them to their room, and my job was complete. Later, when I heard that the group I had guided was among the top-tier warriors active in the nearby dungeon, I vowed to stop judging people by their appearance. To think that those ordinary-looking high schoolers were stronger than the massive, bear-like explorers I was so afraid of... Explorers are truly terrifying.
As the guests started trickling into the dining hall, I began setting out the dishes I had prepared. Looking at the buffet, I found myself remembering how the breakfast scene used to be.
"This place's breakfast has really changed compared to the old days."
A quiet murmur escaped my lips.
In the past, we offered a wide variety of Japanese, Western, and Chinese dishes for breakfast. But once the dungeon opened to the public, a new rule was added to our service: a ban on ingredients rich in dietary fiber and the restriction of drinks containing high amounts of caffeine.
"It's true that food waste was becoming an issue, but..."
Since the number of explorers staying here increased, certain dishes would run out instantly while others were left untouched. When we surveyed the guests, the response was that since they were diving into the dungeon, they wanted to avoid consuming dietary fiber and caffeine in the morning as much as possible.
As a result, new rules were added to the kitchen.
"Honestly, when the ingredients are restricted, it limits the creativity of the menu..."
I let out an involuntary sigh. Because the ingredients were limited, our offerings had shrunk, and lately, the menu had been more of the same. We don't have many guests who stay for long periods, so we're managing for now... but eventually, we'll reach a limit. I need to come up with some kind of improvement before that happens. If I wait until the guest count starts dropping, it'll be too late.
"Alright. For now, let's look for new recipes and start some prototypes."
Watching the group of five high schoolers enter the dining hall, I resolved to challenge myself with something new.