Having come to the Aramsass guild, I was trying to figure out how to go about getting permission to enter the dungeon.
And so I'd come to confirm the process with the guild staff — but.
"Huh? The permission's already been granted?"
The indifferent clerk showed me the documents.
He had a slightly condescending attitude about it.
"You successfully completed the academy's request and broke through the fortieth underground floor. That's more than enough qualification. In fact, did you really come all this way just to confirm that now?"
The middle-aged male clerk had a terrible attitude toward me.
Worse still, the adventurers around us were snickering when they looked at me.
The Sixth Generation, who was on duty today, spoke up.
"They're underestimating Lyle because you were carried back, you know."
The Aramsass guild never had much fondness for adventurers to begin with.
Even hearing that he'd broken through the fortieth underground floor, they probably just saw him as another ordinary adventurer.
(Wouldn't a normal place at least treat you a little better?)
While I was thinking this, the clerk went on to explain.
"You completed the academy's request and received the additional reward. We have no grounds to complain on our end. But do keep in mind — if the dungeon is ever exterminated, you'll be the first one suspected."
A managed dungeon was a treasure trove for both the guild and the city.
Having that destroyed was something they wanted to avoid at all costs.
That was why they restricted which adventurers could enter.
In cases like Damian's, where an impossible request had been issued, they allowed general adventurers access to the dungeon.
And we'd completed that request spectacularly, so the guild must have acknowledged our abilities.
They acknowledged us, but the clerk's attitude made it impossible to feel good about it.
"So from now on, we can enter the dungeon as we please?"
"Do whatever you like. Monsters need culling, and we've got adventurers who want to change their home base, too. Honestly... try to consider things from the management side once in a while."
He was complaining about adventurers moving around on their own and causing problems for dungeon management.
The Sixth Generation laughed.
"Aramsass is an academic city, so they look down on adventurers. That makes sense."
There had always been that tendency, and the academy's students were also registered as adventurers.
For the Aramsass guild, adventurers were a necessary tool for dungeon management — and nothing more.
(No wonder the good ones keep slipping away.)
Seeing the clerk's attitude, I was exasperated, but I felt relieved knowing I wouldn't need to get permission every time I wanted to enter the dungeon from now on.
Gathering a full party, then applying to the guild and waiting for approval — that always ate up a lot of time.
"I see. Well then, I'll be on my —"
As I finished my consultation and turned to leave the counter, the clerk stopped me.
"Wait. The guild handles many dungeon-related requests as well. Don't forget that fulfilling such requests is part of the deal. Also, we have several parties that would like you to introduce them to Ms. Novem Foxes or Ms. Aria Lockward. It would benefit them as well. We'll set up a meeting, so make sure to come by. If your party disbands, your dungeon access will be revoked — but that would probably be better for you anyway."
He spoke with a patronizing tone, and tried to poach my companions.
Worse, he was operating under the assumption that I would disband the party.
They might seem unreliable, but was that really reason enough for this?
Hearing this, my ancestors spoke up.
The Second Generation —
"Whoa, whoa. This guy just picked a fight with us — well, with Lyle. Telling the leader to personally arrange a recruitment opportunity?"
Really irritated, the Third Generation laughed as well.
"Who exactly does he think he's picking a fight with! Alright, Lyle... let's refuse him outright."
My ancestors were getting angry, and I agreed with them.
The main reason Novem and Aria were being approached was probably because they seemed more capable than me in the dungeon.
Novem was indeed an excellent mage, but her main specialty was recovery magic.
Aria was a frontline fighter with multiple skills, and given her age, she was a promising prospect.
(I heard a lot of adventurers come to Aramsass to recruit party members, but this is too blatant.)
I turned to the clerk who was looking down on me.
"Is the guild acting as a middleman for poaching? I'll have to decline."
"...This is a measure to ensure their talents aren't wasted. Among those who've expressed interest, there are children of nobles as well."
It seemed that even if they disliked adventurers, the guild was perfectly happy to be accommodating toward the academy and the nobility.
The Fourth Generation spoke.
"This is overreach, isn't it? The guild is supposed to be a fair organization. On the surface, at least."
"You're lacking in fairness. If people want to approach them, could you ask them to stop using the guild as leverage?"
When I said this with a smile, the clerk apparently took offense and shot back.
"You sheltered little brat —"
Then the Sixth Generation whispered to me.
"Lyle, tell him you got a present from Damian and you're on first-name basis with him. This'll be fun."
Picturing the Sixth Generation's grinning face in my mind, I grinned right back and said.
"Actually, I've gotten to know Damian through this request. I've been visiting his lab quite often. And I think he's taken a liking to me... He even gave me an Automaton."
"W-What..."
The guild that was weak-kneed toward the academy.
The clerk, too, froze at the mention of Damian, the famous professor at the academy.
His eyes were darting around hilariously.
"Feel free to verify it. After all, he's a companion who broke through the fortieth underground floor with me."
The Seventh Generation gave me some advice.
"Hmm. I don't like adventurers either, but this type is an eyesore... If you're going to crush them, better do it early. Lyle, why not tell Damian something like, 'If you keep trying to poach my companions, you won't be able to visit the lab anymore.'"
The Fifth Generation agreed.
"He's probably not the only one doing this, but it'd make a good example."
The ones being targeted for poaching were Novem and Aria, not Poyopoyo — but.
I thought about it, then realized.
(Oh, I see. Make them think Poyopoyo is the one being poached.)
It was a nasty trick, but they'd started it first.
More importantly, thinking about the future, more requests like this would probably keep coming.
(Even if she can't register as an adventurer, can she still count as combat power?)
I didn't think the sharp-tongued maid was particularly strong, but she was still a companion.
"That's right. Why don't I spread some rumors... something like, 'The guild has been helping poach my companions, and it's really causing problems.'"
When I said this, the clerk looked down.
He was getting nervous, sweat beading on his forehead.
The Sixth Generation spoke.
"This type sees all adventurers the same way. They treat them as beneath them and figure they can behave however they want... That's probably how they normally treated Lyle too."
The Fourth Generation spoke.
"There are always idiots like this everywhere. You'd think they'd realize after a little thought that there are people you can pick a fight with and people you can't."
The Third Generation spoke.
"He might not even realize he picked a fight. He probably genuinely thinks he's doing Novem and the others a favor. But yeah... an example needs to be made."
Not all of the Aramsass staff were like this clerk.
But it was true that the tendency ran deep.
(Seriously... Hawkins would feel like a breath of fresh air by comparison even here.)
I thought of how Hawkins, who treated everyone politely at the guild in Darion, and I truly felt how different the atmosphere was from guild to guild.
"Th-This time, I was, uh, specifically asked to do this..."
As the clerk started making excuses, I smiled and said.
"That doesn't really hold up, does it? Well then, I have business at the academy."
With that, I left the guild and headed to the academy, Poyopoyo trailing behind me.
Poyopoyo spoke.
"What a cruel and heartless master you are. He went pale, you know. Acting that tough toward someone in a weaker position than you... how pathetic."
I looked at Poyopoyo, who was covering her mouth and laughing.
"You know full well I was joking, right? Besides, he's the one with the power here. Normally, I'm the one in the weaker position!"
Poyopoyo's expression suddenly turned serious.
"I knew that. I was listening to the whole conversation. You'll just have Professor Damian help you, won't you? As expected of a Chicken. You certainly know how to use your friends."
Should I correct the notion that Damian was my friend?
Or should I shut her up for making it sound like I was exploiting a friend?
While I was deliberating, the Second Generation spoke.
"Well, it's true though. But in times like this, you have to cooperate with each other."
The Third Generation too.
"Right. Lyle is helping Damian, so this is probably fine. Oh, but since you're using Damian, you should at least agree to reasonable requests when he asks you in the future."
It had indeed become a relationship of using each other.
I should make up for that somehow.
(But every one of Damian's requests seems pretty daunting...)
With Poyopoyo in tow, I made my way to the academy with heavy steps.
When Poyopoyo and I arrived at the academy, we found an Automaton busy bustling around Damian's lab.
Damian, seated at his desk, turned toward us while still sitting in his chair.
"Man, the ancients were amazing. Creating dolls this intricate that can clean, do laundry, and even cook to perfection. They're so convenient now that I can't imagine being without them."
Damian spoke earnestly, removing his glasses to wipe the lenses.
"The fact that you activated it means... could it be?"
I looked at Damian, but his answer was —
"I used blood, of course. Come on — I have to save my first kiss for the ideal woman I'm going to create someday. But you, Lyle, were truly divine that day. My research has advanced tremendously."
Damian said all this with a pure, innocent smile, and I could only respond with "I see."
"Hmph. I received my Master's first kiss, so I'm nothing like those mass-produced units. As expected of a Special Model!"
When Poyopoyo's mood improved, the Automatons bustling nearby turned to look at her. Their black eyes began to flash red —
"As expected of a Special Model. That instability and way of speaking sure put a burden on the Master."
"Completely. As a maid — no, as an Automaton, she's disqualified."
"Did you know? Mass-produced models embody the romance of craftsmanship. Special Models... hmph."
The black-haired, bob-cut maids said all this with smiles directed at us.
It was astonishing that these were dolls.
Not only could they hold conversations, but they were better at housework than most women. Aria had been brought to tears several times just watching Poyopoyo.
"As far as I'm concerned, whether they're mass-produced or one of a kind, what matters is the chest —"
Damian shook his head.
"So, are we not going to ask Poyopoyo any questions this time?"
Coming to the academy had been at Damian's request, since he wanted to check on Poyopoyo's progress.
The fact that she'd been activated before the others, and was a mass-produced model, meant Poyopoyo was special after all.
Damian was after that information, but —
"That's it for this round. She can handle housework and can hold conversations, though there are issues. She's particularly harsh with Lyle, but as an Automaton, she serves her master diligently, so no real problem there. I'll look into the spec-related issues later, but the real problem seems to be memories, doesn't it? None of the Automatons know anything important. Part of it is because they were just activated, but it's almost like key memories were extracted... Speaking of which, what is Poyopoyo, anyway? A name?"
Damian looked at Poyopoyo.
She was sitting on the floor, sulking.
"It's fine. Until the Chicken comes up with a name worthy of me, I'll accept the name Poyopoyo. That's right! Until the Chicken thinks of a name worthy of me!"
I scratched my cheek with my finger and said to Damian.
"It just kind of came to me on the spot?"
Then the other three Automatons, who had been watching Poyopoyo, spoke up.
"You — she was given a name!"
"Our Master just calls us Unit One, Unit Two, and Unit Three!"
"We haven't lost anything! Our assigned numbers have never once been called incorrectly!"
Poyopoyo, still looking down, grinned.
"Hmph. Listen up, mass-produced models. This is the power of a Special Model."
(I would've preferred being mass-produced. Also —)
They all looked exactly the same, yet Damian could tell the Automatons apart.
As expected of the eccentric genius of the Seven Worthies.
"A name... I should think of a fitting name for my ideal woman, too. Oh right, and the guild matter."
As if remembering, Damian brought up what I'd asked him about.
The attempted poaching at the guild.
I'd told Damian about it.
"That's right. Can I count on you?"
"Sure, no problem. Actually, I have plenty of complaints about the guild myself... I'll pass the message along."
I felt slightly uneasy, but the Sixth Generation seemed to sense it and spoke up.
"That clerk is going to dig his own grave sooner or later. You just happened to be involved. Worrying about it would be a waste."
I gripped the Jewel to acknowledge the message.
"That's a relief. Well, I won't worry about this round's reward, since I had a favor to ask."
"Oh? Well, research funds run out fast, so that helps."
After that, I chatted with Damian a little longer before leaving the lab.
When I returned to the mansion, I found Shannon doing dishes under Novem's supervision.
I heard Shannon's scream from the kitchen and went to check — and quite a scene greeted me.
"Please, no more! I'm begging you!"
"You cannot stop. Ms. Miranda specifically told me to make sure you learn properly. Now, once you've finished the dishes, we'll move on to cleaning the rooms."
"Ah, Lyle! Stop standing there and help me! She's scary! Novem is genuinely terrifying!"
Shannon tried to run over and throw her arms around me, so I pressed her head back with my hand.
She flailed her arms and legs, but couldn't reach me.
"It's her own fault. After all the times she's gotten off easy, this is a fitting punishment — barely at that."
In the end, Ms. Miranda had forgiven Shannon.
Despite that intense two-faced nature — despite creating that alternate self — the surface side had let it all slide.
Watching this, the Sixth Generation let out an ambivalent comment.
"You're overlaying this girl onto Mireia..."
The Fifth Generation agreed.
"We were too cautious, but in the end it worked out. With Miranda around, she'll shape up."
Novem looked at me.
"Welcome home, Master Lyle. And... Poyopoyo-san."
Novem said the clunky placeholder name with a troubled expression.
"I never gave you permission to use my name! And you dare run wild in my territory... Prepare yourself!"
"You're noisy."
I tapped the back of her head, and Poyopoyo's twin tails swayed as she slumped forward with a thud.
She held the spot with both hands and looked up at me.
"That hurt, Chicken. Please treat me with more care. I'm delicate, you know. When my Master scolds me, I cry myself to sleep at night."
"...That's creepy, stop it. Also, are you actually awake at night? What are you doing?"
Then Poyopoyo declared with confidence —
"I'm on standby in Sleep Mode! Since I'm receiving that weird energy from you called mana, I try to conserve as much as I can — ow!"
I slapped her on the head again.
"You're literally sleeping! Are you really an Automaton?!"
Novem watched our back-and-forth with Poyopoyo and smiled.
"You two really do get along."
I looked at Poyopoyo.
She looked a little pleased, which irritated me.
"As I thought, you were lusting after me, Chicken. If you had just called out, I would have released Sleep Mode and climbed into your bed — ow..."
I tapped Poyopoyo's head again and said I was exhausted.
Shannon, who I'd been holding back —
"Hey! How long are you going to keep holding me like this?! I'm not that hard to deal with!"
From the Jewel, the Fifth and Sixth Generations spoke.
"She reeks of pettiness."
"Hmm, this girl..."
Honestly, what were we even worried about when we felt threatened by a child like this?