Chapter 86 On the Road
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The door opened into a wide land of stone and marsh. The ground was dark and gravelly, and each step felt heavy, as if the earth clung to my feet. A constant mist meant it was saturated with moisture.
A red-black horizon stretched endlessly under a dull gray sky.
”Is this the real Valley of Fear?” I muttered. A strange, slightly fishy smell hung in the air—the scent of decaying microorganisms, similar to the fragrance of the sea.
The humidity was high, and breathing felt like the air was sticking to my throat. I was still in my winter clothes, so it was a bit muggy. My skin was starting to sweat.
This place had a bad vibe. The climate was cool like a high plateau, yet it was strangely damp.
”Young Master!”
”…Ah. You two.”
Trash-san and Flatty-chan, wearing iron shackles, waited nearby. It seemed they had been brought into the dungeon before me.
Flatty-chan spotted me and called out loudly. As I started to hurry over, a woman grabbed me from behind.
”Ow!”
An adult woman held me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground.
”Let me go! It’s just for a little while!”
”Please wait a moment. You might hurt yourself in those geta. I will change them for you.”
”…Oh, right. Thank you.”
One of the elder sisters held me while the other knelt and put the geta on my feet. When I stepped down, it felt like walking on a platform. The clacking sound underfoot was unsettling.
This dungeon had many rocky, dry riverbeds, so without geta, my footwear would be ruined quickly.
I thanked the elder sisters and quickly rejoined Trash-san and Flatty-chan. I wanted to throw myself at them. But I held back. I wanted to hug them, but the mood wasn’t right. People were watching, too.
”That outfit… i-it’s cute… I mean, excuse me.”
Flatty-chan’s eyes were wide.
Shigerou had given me a new kimono—a dark blue nagagi with a Seigaiha wave pattern and hakama. I looked like a boy dressed in traditional Japanese attire for an autumn festival.
I looked like a god-like child appearing at a desolate shrine. At least, visually.
”Shigerou dressed me up like a doll. He even styled my hair.”
”I see. I was wondering what happened. I’m glad you seem a little better,” Flatty-chan said.
Flatty-chan was cooing over my new outfit. A warm feeling spread through my heart too.
”I didn’t have time to be depressed. He talked so much my ears hurt. I barely had any time alone or a chance to contact you.”
Since arriving in this town, we’d been using Psionic Power like instant messages when we were apart. Trash-san had strongly requested that I report every thirty minutes if we were even slightly separated, due to her concern.
The attendant moved to stand beside me, watching our surroundings protectively.
At this time of day, past noon, there were no mists or monsters, so the area seemed safe.
”It was terrible outside,” I said. “Two mountains over, a mystical object from Kujukuri Town was floating in the sky, burning people. That’s the true face of this war.”
”Young Master, that Maggot Device is a cruel weapon. …But I am glad you are safe now,” Trash-san replied.
”Yeah.”
We exchanged gazes that only masked sadness, nodding under the pretense of sorrow.
In other words, this chaos was a good thing. It meant we could escape if we saw an opportunity. If the enemy’s invasion progressed further by the time rescue arrived, it would be easier to slip past surveillance.
Himawari approached us, accompanied by several women. Her pressure felt strong, perhaps due to her agitated state.
”I don’t have time to fight with you,” she declared.
”Oh? What do you mean by that? We’re indulging your situation, and you speak so boldly,” Trash-san retorted.
Trash-san and Flatty-chan stepped forward, shielding me from Himawari’s gaze. Despite being restrained, they showed no sign of intimidation.
This was the first time we’d faced each other directly since that battle. A tense atmosphere hung between us. The three glared at each other with stern faces.
”I’ll teach you that you can’t escape,” Himawari said.
As she spoke, a woman behind her brought forward a box-like object.
It was a cube, about thirty centimeters on each side.
Its texture was mysterious. It was an ivory-colored tetrahedron, with a microphone extending from the top face like a horsetail plant. The front face had a round, recessed speaker.
It was a box that tightly integrated a microphone and speaker.
Looking at its off-white, slightly brownish color, I felt a sense of nostalgia, like seeing a facility from elementary school.
”Place the hair here,” Himawari commanded.
The older sister placed a bundle of black hair, tied with a red ribbon, onto a small tray attached to the box. It was human hair, like a lock of hair kept from the deceased. Two strands of jet-black, glossy hair were neatly tied together.
In this world, this type of speaker shouldn’t be common. Could it be a dungeon mystical object?
Mystical objects often felt anachronistic, appearing like things from my previous life. They existed regardless of historical context, as long as humans might have created them from ancient times to the future.
Himawari pressed a switch on the speaker.
Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice in my ear.
”Huh? Trash-san, did someone say something?”
I looked around, but no one had spoken, and it wasn’t anyone’s voice present. It was a voice I’d never heard before.
”I hear a strange voice.”
”No, no one is speaking…” Trash-san replied.
Trash-san herself didn’t understand. It seemed only I could hear the voice.
There was static, making it difficult to catch every word. I strained my ears.
’Calling for the owner of lost items.’
”Huh…?”
What was this? I heard a mysterious phrase.
Before I could ponder it, the same voice spoke again. It wasn’t coming from the microphone-speaker. I couldn’t tell where the audio originated, but it was directed at me.
’■■-sama. Calling for lost items. Please hurry to the ■■■ Center to retrieve ■■■.’
What is this? Yet, the voice felt familiar. Its atmosphere reminded me of broadcast facilities in school or old department stores. Come to think of it, the quality was similar to the announcements during my high school sports festival.
”Hey, what is this voice? Trash-san, it’s kind of scary,” I said.
The sound quality was quite poor. It had a sterile, polite tone, like a pre-war radio broadcast.
It still felt mysterious and familiar. It was similar to the lost child announcements I’d heard at an amusement park as a child. I remembered crying uncontrollably while holding the hand of an attendant after getting separated.
It seems I’m always crying.
’■■-sama. Re-calling for lost items. Please come to the ■■■ Center immediately to retrieve ■■■.’
”Ah, right. I forgot something.”
Eventually, I finally remembered what it was. Or rather, why had I forgotten? That was the real mystery.
”That was close. I almost forgot.”
How could I have forgotten something so, so, so important?
This was strange, strange, strange, strange. I almost lost my mind. The sudden change in temperature must have made me feel dizzy, like I had heatstroke.
Before I knew it, I started walking.
”Young Master, where are you going?” Trash-san asked.
My feet moved naturally in the direction of the voice. My legs knew the way. Somehow, I knew the location of what I desired.
My steps were light, and I was sure I’d be fine no matter where I went. I had confidence I could find it, and it was worth the effort. Besides, I was being called, so I had to go.
”Please stay calm. There was no voice,” Trash-san said.
”Right. I forgot something. I need to go get it.”
”Young Master, you must not go!”
”No. Don’t interfere.”
My head felt hazy.
Oh, why did I forget something so important and leave it behind? I can’t believe I was okay with losing something so precious.
’■■-sama. Calling again. Please come to the ■■■ Center immediately. You have forgotten ■■■.’
Wait. Wait.
I have to hurry. I don’t care if my legs break, if my body is ruined, if I die.
Someone important is trying to stop me.
But that doesn’t matter.
”I have to go. I need to pick up my lost item…”
Suddenly, I found myself standing before the speaker.
I retrieved my hair from the tray on the speaker. A lock of black hair rested in my palm.
Ah, good. Now I can relax. I’ll be careful not to lose it again.
”…Huh?”
Only then did my mind suddenly clear.
The inexplicable sense of urgency and the euphoria of retrieving my lost item vanished as if I had been in a daydream.
I could recall my feelings from before, but I couldn’t understand why I had been so fixated on this hair, or why the voice had drawn me in.
It was me, but not me. It felt like the me from a few seconds ago was a different person.
”This is terrifying. What is this?”
The voice was completely gone.
I quickly distanced myself from the speaker and fled back to Trash-san.
The mystical object was now silent, emitting no sound. It was a strange mystical object. It had manipulated my mind.
Himawari slapped the pale ivory speaker and approached, snatching the hair from me. Stroking it with one hand, she opened her mouth triumphantly.
”So that’s how it is. You can run, but you’ll end up chasing us.”
She held the hair, tied with a scarlet ribbon.
”With a part of the body, this mystical object can summon the person,” she explained.
That was my hair. She must have collected it when I cut it with the sickle. I had cut a fair amount, so gathering what fell on the floor would make a decent lock.
Himawari addressed my two Imperial Guards with a threatening demeanor.
”At our whim, your Young Master will be captivated by this mystical object for life. I wonder how long he can remain sane.”
She warned them with those words.
”No matter where you flee, it’s the same. No human can resist the call.”
Then Himawari’s gaze fell upon the unsettling mystical object.
Apparently, once the hair is placed on the tray, the voice doesn’t stop regardless of distance. It can guide you anywhere, and even if you’re forcibly stopped, the voice will continue to echo in your head. You’d search for your lost item without sleeping.
In other words, if we tried to escape while heading deeper into the dungeon, she would use this mystical object again.
”You fiend. If you think this is acceptable, you’re not fit to be an Imperial Guard, let alone a woman. I will not forgive you,” Trash-san glared at Himawari, filled with hatred.
But Himawari remained unfazed by the gaze.
”We’re not doing this by choice. We don’t want to treat a male so roughly either. But this is a necessary precaution to bring him back without harming him.”
She then smirked and glared back at us.
”I knew you were using Psionic Power to secretly contact the locals. After killing my people, you should be grateful you’re not dead.”
For a moment, they exchanged murderous glances before breaking eye contact. They probably deemed it a waste of time. We had no means to oppose her yet.
Himawari and her group departed. Trash-san carefully checked my body.
”Are you feeling alright? I can’t believe they would actually put shackles on you…”
”Don’t worry so much. There’s nothing wrong with me. It really just calls to you. But I think it’s dangerous. I don’t think I could resist it.”
I myself wasn’t confident I could maintain my sanity if that mystical object were used on me again. A powerful impulse would arise, compelling me to act according to the emotions of the moment. Even knowing the trick now, I suspect I would still be manipulated.
This means the tactic of waiting for a rescue force to ambush us on the road is no longer viable. Even if rescued, we’d be dragged back.
We have to retrieve the hair first, or destroy that mystical object, or we can’t escape.
Fortunately, communication isn’t an issue. This information can be shared immediately. I promptly informed Trash-san, who was coordinating with the town.
Finally, a considerable number of people gathered before departure.
Even so, it was only about three hundred people, far from the total population. This relocation had been repeated many times over the past six months, and several groups were scheduled to enter the dungeon in the next day or two.
The later groups would likely face a desperate flight with attacks from behind. However, the door’s size prevented moving thousands at once, and too many people would make it difficult for the few Psionic Power users and town officials to guide them.
We walked along the riverbed valley for a while.
The Valley of Fear had distinct safe periods, so there were no monsters around now. I could have been carried in a cage, but I chose to stay with Trash-san and Flatty-chan, who had their shackles removed and were now free. I didn’t want to be separated anymore.
There was a surveillance attendant nearby, one of the quiet, somewhat gloomy yet alluring women who often cared for people in town.
Trash-san gave me instructions on how to walk in the valley.
”Do you know how to wear geta? The thong should be tucked between your big toe and second toe… yes, like that. Lean your weight forward.”
”My heel is hanging off the board.”
”That’s correct. Turn your heel inward slightly so your toes don’t hurt.”
Males don’t walk much. Some forget how to run as adults.
Without a word, the people of Isumi Town began walking along the dry riverbed. The path sloped slightly, and the stones grew larger. We were heading upstream.
The journey was indeed eerie and unsettling. Although I was getting used to walking, I nearly stumbled many times.
”Flatty-chan, I’m sorry for teasing you before. Can you lend me a hand?”
I decided to hold Flatty-chan’s hand. Seeing her look at me with concern made me feel uneasy.
”Eek. Y-yes, of course. What’s wrong? Are you scared here?”
”It’s just hard to walk. Are you okay?”
”O-of course! Let’s hold hands!”
I took her trembling hand. Flatty-chan blushed beet red.
She had said before that she liked my hands, so I thought this apology would make her happy, but she didn’t seem to have the余裕. She was panicking like a boy who had just gotten an autograph from a star player.
”Stay calm… stay calm…”
Flatty-chan occasionally closed her eyes and took deep breaths, performing meditative acts. I started to worry if she would fall.
”Flatty-chan, be careful,” I said.
”I-I’m fine. Your hand… your cute hand is holding mine… so please, hold on tight.”
She kept stumbling on small stones, and I felt sorry for her. It was like going to a haunted house with someone who was afraid of ghosts.
Although it wasn’t something a male typically did in public, my small appearance and my apparent anxiety in an unfamiliar place made it somewhat acceptable.
Being with her lifted the somber atmosphere and soothed my heart. To ease the tension, I decided to make some conversation.
”Speaking of which, now that I think about it, are you called Flatty because your chest is small?”
We had touched upon names the other day. Looking sideways at her flat, neat chest, I thought of it.
Vocal Slut-san was noisy, hence Vocal Slut-san. Cult Slut-san was named because she was deceived by a new religion out of anxiety.
For me, stress relief was somehow limited to asking sexually harassing questions without reading the room. I admit to myself that I should find a better way.
But Flatty-chan seemed happy and even thanked me.
”Th-thank you. Actually, having no chest is my secret pride.”
”Really?”
Somehow, she interpreted it as a compliment.
”Many males dislike large ones. Having fewer feminine features often means they won’t be disliked.”
I had gained new knowledge about this world. I hadn’t heard any woman complain about having a small chest. No one seemed to mind.
”Then it’s good that you’re small.”
”Yes. For that, I’m grateful to my mother.”
Flatty-chan’s scarred hands were sweaty with nervousness. But I felt it would be cruel to point it out and make her more self-conscious, so I let her lead me along.
”We went on a dungeon exploration together, Flatty-chan.”
I kicked a small stone. I was finally getting used to the geta.
”It’s like a story. Adventuring with my master is fun. I’ve always wanted this,” she said.
”Did you always long for something like this?”
”Since I was a child. Dreams were my only joy. Otherwise, I only remember being hungry.”
Her childhood sounded quite tragic.
As she became more comfortable, she showed a friendly smile.
Flatty-chan was simply cute when she smiled. I had to be careful, or she might just turn into a beautiful girl before I knew it.
”I wish I could have seen little Flatty-chan too. You must have been adorable.”
”N-no, I was just a brat with a mean look… a child,” she mumbled.
We walked side by side. Sometimes, we jumped over large stones together. When one of us stumbled, the other would steady them.
Flatty-chan kept glancing back at Trash-san, who was walking behind us. I wondered what she was doing.
”…Hmph.”
”Why are you looking back? Watch where you’re going or you’ll fall,” I said.
As I gradually tried to build rapport with the proud Flatty-chan, like taming an animal, we came upon a grove where black hair grew instead of leaves. Sparse trees stood like black weeping willows.
Their trunks were hard and yellow, like layered skin, and the surface was powdery like clogged pores or old scabs. They were trees from a nightmare.
Yet, they looked somewhat lonely, and I felt pity for their solitary existence.
This place had a slightly different atmosphere from the others.
Near the trees were piles of stones, like a Sai no Kawara (riverbed of souls).
A few elderly women were sitting and resting nearby. A girl lay beside them, already deceased, and a woman, presumably her mother, gently stroked her hair. The atmosphere was sad but peaceful.
They had separated from our group and were not following.
”Aren’t those people coming with us?” I asked, concerned.
Left there, they would be attacked by monsters if the red mist appeared. They didn’t seem to have weapons, so what were they planning?
A nearby attendant, who was acting as surveillance, answered my murmured question.
”They are called Taninobe. They are choosing to end their lives here.”
Her voice was calm. Nobe refers to the act of seeing off the deceased, an ancient term for funeral rites in modern times.
”They have memories of this valley from their childhood. Some who grow old and ill choose to spend their final days here.”
The attendant’s eyes reflected the relaxed expressions of the women.
This was the cemetery of Isumi Town. And, in a sense, a 姥捨て山 (ubasuteyama – mountain where the elderly were abandoned).
”So, you mean they commit suicide?”
”Not immediately.”
She clarified, but did not deny that it was suicide.
It seemed a cruel fate to be left to monsters, and a barbaric way to dispose of bodies. However, in an era of high birth and death rates, body disposal was a difficult problem.
”They spend the mist hours in a shelter and enjoy rice cakes and snacks for about ten days. The townspeople provide them with various things to make their final days as luxurious as possible.”
And the final rice cake contains poison from a river sow, prepared so they won’t suffer. How terrifying.
”But I couldn’t do it. I’d be too scared.”
”That’s understandable. Some return in fear, and this town accepts them with comfort, regardless of their status.”
It wasn’t that they were forcing people who couldn’t work to leave. The elderly and the sick, sensing their end, chose to reduce the burden on others.
”It must have been too early for them to be called yet.”
She gazed into the distance.
The mainstream era was earth burial. Before cremation, in Japan, bodies were buried in large tubs, with limbs bound—a practice called ‘kutsusou’ (bent burial). This was to prevent the deceased from returning from the underworld to walk.
Ghosts wearing triangular cloths on their heads and white juban were almost certainly mourned this way.
My town also practices kutsusou, and there are superstitions in Kujukuri Town that bodies thrown into the sea turn into fish and return, so people are reluctant to eat fish that have eaten humans.
”It’s a customary rite around autumn, but it was slightly delayed this year due to the war. However, a funeral is necessary in any form. Yes, a funeral…”
The attendant seemed lost in thought.
However, in Isumi Town, funerals weren’t always necessary.
There were no gravestones in the cemetery; instead, people brought mementos of the deceased to offer on the riverbed. Perhaps it was a form of indigenous Shintoism; without strict doctrines, it blended well with the dungeon.
Townspeople spoke kindly to those left behind and departed. No trace of sadness was visible on their faces.
I couldn’t help but stop and gaze at them for a while.
It felt like the circle of life. Those who grew up in the mountains return their lives to the mountains. Hunters who lived by beasts offer their bodies to beasts when they grow old. Those whose lives were sustained by the dungeon return to the dungeon.
It was a scene that evoked a sense of ancient human connection.
”It was to change this situation that the youth of the town decided to migrate. They proceeded with their plans against the elders’ opposition… While I am content with things as they are, the younger generation simply couldn’t stand it any longer.”
The attendant had a gentle, lonely expression.
”Deep down, they felt guilt about having to abandon their kin in the valley. It’s understandable.”
I was surprised and asked, “How old are you, big sister?”
The attendant simply smiled kindly and didn’t answer.
It seemed there were differing opinions within Isumi Town regarding this migration. The group of young, strong Psionic users like Himawari and the elders from noble families appeared to be on bad terms.
A generation striving for prosperity versus an older generation fearing change and wanting to maintain the status quo. But the younger generation didn’t rebel out of dislike for the old; rather, they acted precisely because they couldn’t bear to easily discard them.
Perhaps this town faced a universal problem, one that existed everywhere, unrelated to mystery or dungeons.
However, the older women couldn’t possibly tell their children to continue a life of poverty, abandoning people in the dungeon, and feeding on monsters that might have eaten their own kin. And in the end, they accepted the migration. Despite being seen as nagging, they were trying to prevent the youth from going too far.
From what I could see, no one in town feared the dungeon as much as I did. While they felt awe, it had become a part of their lives. Once familiar from childhood, any place, no matter how strange, could feel like home—so much so that one might wish to be buried there.
What surprised me even more was hearing that the dungeon also served as a playground for children before adulthood in this town. While harmless at certain times, if the return door suddenly vanished, they could be stranded inside. Wasn’t that dangerous?
Especially the small maggots in the mist, which were an insurmountable problem. Humanoid or crab-like monsters could be evaded or hidden from. But finger-sized maggots that swarmed in the mist were impossible to avoid. They caused the skin to fester and turned humans into grotesque masses before killing them.
There was an answer to that, though.
”Mint oil is very effective against Urushibiru (maggot repellent),” she said.
”What is this?”
”If you apply this to your skin, maggot-type monsters will dislike it and won’t touch you.”
A small brass vial appeared from her sleeve. She explained that despite being dungeon monsters, maggots were weak to mint oil, not only repelling them but also keeping them from approaching even in the mist.
”I didn’t know there was such a countermeasure,” I said.
”We make sure the children of this town learn about the bell’s chime and maggot repellent, just as fishermen teach their children to swim and how to read the ocean currents to avoid being swept away.”
Just because a monster was mysterious didn’t mean it was inherently stronger than Earth’s creatures. If its mystery was weak, it lacked strange defenses and had vulnerabilities. Ordinary people could defeat monsters with wit and courage.
Next time a slug monster appears, I’ll try salt.
”Thank you. This isn’t some strange mystical object, is it?”
”I swear, it’s just maggot repellent.”
I felt reassured, as women don’t lie.
I took the mint oil and applied it to my skin. I didn’t forget the back of my neck. Now, I was perfectly prepared for the maggots in the mist. The mint fragrance enveloped me. Applying essential oil for maggot repellent felt nostalgic, like a memory from long ago.
”Young Master. Please don’t sympathize too much with that woman,” Trash-san interrupted.
She had noticed me listening intently to the explanation and seemed concerned about my friendly interaction with the attendant.
”I’m sorry, but please refrain from trying to curry favor with Young Master,” she said sternly.
Then she questioned me with a harsh tone.
”You seem quite accustomed to conversing with males. You appear to be an attendant, so why are you not by your master’s side?”
The older sister did not reply.
With Trash-san’s power, killing someone would be trivial. Faced with her intimidation, any townsperson would tremble. But the attendant merely lowered her eyes.
”A woman should always remain by her master’s side. If you intend to deceive this person, I will show no mercy.”
”I apologize. I never intended to…”
There was no fear in her voice. She wasn’t a Psionic Power user, yet she continued to bow obediently to Trash-san, maintaining her gloomy aura.
The attendant quietly watched me struggling to apply the mint oil properly to my back. Seeing my clumsy movements, she let out a breath, her expression filled with a poignant sadness. It was like a mother watching her child struggle to apply hand cream, but also like someone recalling their own old age.
”Ah… I see. It’s okay, Trash-san,” I said.
Suddenly, I understood.
”She has no choice but to act as my attendant.”
She was looking at me, but not really seeing me. It was as if she were recalling something through my actions. And she wasn’t afraid of Trash-san’s threats, showing no regard for her own life.
”This person probably… lost her master first.”
Somehow, her demeanor, her way of speaking, and the way she looked at me reminded me of my original attendant. I understood for some reason.
She is what Trash-san would be like after losing me.
”She probably doesn’t have a master anymore. So please don’t blame her too much.”
Even after hearing this, the older sister whispered, gazing distantly, as if in a daze.
”Lost her master… Yes, that must be it. This disloyal one endures shame only to perform the rites of passage.”
”I apologize for that. However, please do not become too familiar with Young Master,” Trash-san said.
”I am truly ashamed,” she replied, bowing again.
But even so, my Imperial Guards have their own jurisdiction. It’s understandable that she surveils us, but it’s the Imperial Guard’s duty to keep undesirable elements away. Even if that gaze stems from the nostalgia of a female mourning a lost master.
It probably happens occasionally. Imperial Guards who outlive the master they were meant to serve. As we walked, I noticed several town officials guiding the group who shared a similar aura with her. They all performed their duties silently, without emotion.
On the road, we found no traces of the battle that day, nor any personal belongings. We arrived at a massive dam.
I was surprised. Until now, the only trace of civilization had been the abandoned church. Here, traces of human life suddenly appeared.
The dam was dry. Above the towering gray wall, small spillways were visible, but no water flowed from them.
”Alright! Line up in order and pass through! Once you get to the other side, do not move from your spot. You don’t want to die, do you! There’s no red mist at this time, so stay calm!” Himawari shouted orders at the townspeople before the dam’s spillway, which led to the second level of the Valley of Fear.
Notes:
• Shigerou – A middle-aged man from the Katsuraura family; talkative, clueless about the war, enjoys a comfortable life.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Himawari – Young oni/aberration-type psionic; town leader/face; asks for promotion help; apologizes for killings; sets 2‑day deadline.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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