Isekai Dungeon Architect

Over stew and bread, our lively conversation drifted naturally. Riddle explained bits of city life— markets, curfews, how dungeon taxes funded half of Westford's defenses.

"Dungeon taxes?" I asked, wiping stew from my mouth.

"Yes. Adventurers who harvest resources or energy cores from dungeons pay a portion to the city. In return, they get protection, access to guild halls, and medical support."

"So basically… union dues for murder-hobos."

She frowned. "Murder…?"

"Never mind. Keep going."

"Adventurers," she continued with some hesitation, not staring at my nonchalant green eyes, "risk their lives to bring back resources. Everything from cores, monster materials, herbs, to rare metals. Without them, kingdoms would collapse. But…" Her gaze drifted to the city sky for a moment. "Many don't come back."

Her tone dimmed the warmth of the meal, even if only for a moment.

I twirled the spoon, thinking. Adventurers sounded like a mix of startup founders and miners: high risk, high reward, lots of corpses. And dungeons?

They were basically server farms with higher death rates. The Architects who made them? System admins from hell– perhaps I'll join their ranks one day as well.

"Sounds like my old job," I muttered, finishing up the bread.

"What was your old job?" Riddle asked, shaking her head to not think too deeply about the darkness of the important roles.

"Cloud Architect. Managed systems, balanced resources, designed frameworks. Basically what your adventurers do, except instead of orcs eating me, it was management emails."

She gave me a blank look. She clearly didn't understand a thing I just said, but still nodded "…I see."

"No, you don't. But I respect the effort." She really was a nice one.

After the meal, when the couple stepped away to tend other customers, I leaned closer to Riddle and pulled something out with a little flourish.

Not coins this time— those stayed neatly tucked in my Status window.

This was the direwolf core I harvested, faintly glowing red.

I set it between us on the table. "So… how much would this fetch?"

Her eyes widened, "You… you killed direwolves?" She recognised the item instantly.

"Technically they tried to kill me, and I encouraged them to donate their remains for the greater good. So?" She first stared at me to try and understand whether that was a joke or just me being the iconic me, but then just shook her head.

She studied it carefully for a minute, then muttered, "This would be worth at least three thousand regional coins at the Association."

My brows shot up. "Three grand? For this little pebble?" I rolled it between my palms like a fidget toy. "No wonder people risk their lives. Aura farming, huh?"

"Aura farming?"

"Gen Z thing. Means chasing vibes, clout, energy— whatever. Here, it's monster cores. Same difference."

She shook her head, baffled, but her expression softened. "Most adventurers would be envious of a beginner walking into Westford with this."

Adventurers again. The word stuck to me personally this time.

From her tone, they weren't just freelancers with swords and skills. They were miners, hunters, risk managers, and currency printers all rolled into one. Entire cities leaned on them.

And me? I wasn't just going to be another one of them.

I was going to be one of the beings who created the very dungeons they threw themselves into. The backbone of this economy. The Architect.

The thought sent a thrill down my spine.

"Hmmm…"

We left the shop with the granny waving us off—"Take care of her, young lady!"—and Riddle sputtering protests that only made her blush worse.

The streets were alive under the night sky. Mana lanterns glowed with steady light.

Adventurers walked in clusters— armor clinking, laughter loud, some bragging about cores harvested from that day's dungeon dive. Merchants haggled. Kids darted between stalls with candied fruit in hand.

"Whooooooo…"

At one point, I paused at a vendor selling enchanted knives, tracing the runes etched along the blade. "How much?" I asked.

The vendor rattled off a price.

Riddle's sharp eyes tracked me as I casually tucked the wolf core back into my pocket-space. She finally spoke. "Aria… that was spatial storage."

I tilted my head innocently. "Was it?"

Her tone carried the authority of a captain. It wasn't angry, but it demanded honesty.

I sighed helplessly, "Yeah. It's one of my innate skills. Comes in handy, surely. Pocket space. It's basically an infinite Dropbox."

Riddle tilted her head, confused. "Dropbox?"

"Forget it."

She studied me carefully, then said softly, "That's rare. Very rare. Most people who can use spatial storage are already trained adventurers. You…" She hesitated. "…you don't strike me as one. Yet you have the aura."

I smirked. "Maybe I'm just a prodigy."

"Or a fool about to dive into places you shouldn't." Her eyes lingered on me, serious now. "Adventurers die, Aria. Not sometimes. Often."

A new sadness covered her tired face, "And dungeons… they are crueler than the forest you faced. They are living entities. They devour the unprepared."

"Yeah," I smiled, sliding my hands into my pockets. "But you're looking at someone who doesn't do unprepared. Back home, I built systems. Balanced chaos. If dungeons are the servers of this world… maybe I'm here to be the sysadmin."

She didn't understand the words once again, but something in my tone made her pause. Her lips pressed tight, caught between scolding me and… something else. Admiration? Fear perhaps?

"Reckless," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Scalable," I corrected the pretty lady with a grin.

We kept walking until the crowd thinned. The city's heartbeat still pulsed around us—vendors packing up, adventurers boasting, music drifting faintly from taverns.

And above it all, I lifted my gaze.

At the center of Westford, a massive tower stretched into the night, its silhouette cutting against the stars. The dungeon. The heart of this city. The reason it existed.

Riddle's voice broke the quiet. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to the Adventurer Association. You'll understand more then."

"Association, huh?" I muttered, lips curving. "So not a guild… more like a co-working space, but with swords and taxes?"

She gave me a look that expressed how she didn't want to hit a weak little me, but I kept my eyes on the tower.

The lanterns flickered, the streets buzzed, but that tower loomed steady, like it was waiting.

And I knew.

I wasn't just looking at a building.

I was staring at my next project this time.