My Refrigerator Turned Into A Dungeon
Chapter 345

I Have A Problem

 

The midnight hour when even plants sleep. I was alone in the yard, repeating master’s forms. The only one watching this scene was Tarou, the dungeon-sensing dog, resting his chin on the ground with a bored look.

Swift footwork kicked up dust, illuminated by the moonlight. Only the sound of my steps echoed in the darkness, as my shadow stretched and wavered faintly tonight.

(…A Skill Tournament, huh?)

Basically, it’s the government’s PR strategy to create a trend like, “Dungeon Ability users are strong, skilled, and cool!” And through this, they want to mass-produce more of them.

Not a bad move. At least it’s better than squeezing defense budgets by raising taxes.

If they went the tax route, passing the bill and actually getting the money circulating would take way too long. Plus, what we need now isn’t fighter jets or missiles—it’s people. But in the current climate, how many would willingly become Self-Defense officers when it’s nothing but hardship and hassle?

On top of that, the Stampede’s aftermath has tanked the economy, and crime—theft and whatnot—is getting worse.

If they slapped on more taxes to burden the people, even Japan could see riots like other countries. That’d mean riot police getting deployed, further crushing morale and weakening national strength.

So, if lying and hyping up Dungeon Ability users gets people to fight monsters willingly, the government has it easy.

Overseas, experts say the next Dungeon Stampede is a looming threat, but if we thin out the dungeon monsters properly, we can soften the impact and achieve a smooth landing.

Well, I only just looked this up. Living in the countryside’s been too fun—I slacked on gathering intel.

Of course, managing Dungeon Ability users would be its own hassle.

But compared to a large-scale reorganization of the Self-Defense Forces after the second Stampede wrecked them, this’d be way cheaper. No matter how many Ability users get wiped out, the aftermath is all on them—personal responsibility.

(Still… that was a bad move.)

I’m talking about the Giant Crocodile Incident.

I stuck out way too much. The police must’ve marked me after that, and I owe Edasaki-san from the Dungeon Countermeasures Bureau for covering for me with them. The Skill Tournament offer probably came because of that debt.

Nobody said it outright, but they must’ve figured I was using the Bureau as a shield against the police. Back then, Edasaki-san had this knowing smile and roundabout way of talking when we spoke.

So, this timing? Probably means, “We covered for you, so pay us back with this.”

(Sigh… But standing out never ends well for me.)

Past experience says it’s either humiliating or paints a target on my back.

But still, part of me thinks… maybe now’s different. Like some story’s protagonist, winning big, grabbing the prize money, celebrating with Rua and the others.

But after indulging in that sweet fantasy, I shake my head hard. No, no—I’m hiding a dungeon. What good does drawing attention do?

(Ward off, roll back, press, push, pluck, split, elbow, lean… Ward off, roll back, press, push, pluck, split, elbow, lean…)

The forms of the martial arts master I’ve been learning. Repeating the Eight Methods and Five Steps of Tai Chi to calm my mind, but the Skill Tournament won’t leave my thoughts.

(What kind of skill users will show up…? Ten million yen prize… Ugh, but my registered skills are [Meditation], [Art], and [Salt]…)

So, they expect me to fight with just salt?!

Ugh, what do I do…? Normally, when I’m this torn, I’d hear the tiny salt god’s voice like, “Believe in the salt!” But this time, no divine guidance…

I’m stuck in this weird limbo—half wanting to join, half dreading it. But Nina and Seruki said they’d cheer me on, so maybe I should meet their expectations and compete…

Agh, this is torture! Absolute torture, I tell ya!!