Isekai Dungeon Architect

The warmth of the stew still lingered on my tongue when I finally hugged Reddy goodbye.

She stiffened at first, clearly unused to sudden public displays of affection, but when I pulled her closer and muttered, "Thanks for tonight," I felt the faintest shift— her body relaxing, just a fraction.

Her dress smelled faintly of herbs, parchment, and a hint of magic. The mix suited her: feminine orderliness disguised beneath hard edges.

Her heartbeat had skipped. I knew because… mine had, too.

When I let go, her ears were still red.

"Goodnight, Captain," Not missing the chance, I teased softly, slipping away before she could scold me.

We parted ways for the day, and the noises of The Traveler's Inn greeted me before I even reached its door.

"It was no easy battle."

"Jem was injured and just about to die, but then the captain picked up the monster and tossed it on its head!"

"It was an epic scene!"

The scent of roasted meat hung heavy in the night air, mingling with the sharp tang of hops and cheap ale. Laughter spilled through the windows, warm, vibrant, and messy. Someone sang badly in the crowd— loud enough that even the cobblestones seemed embarrassed for them.

-Ta-ring~!

Pushing the door open was like stepping into a wave of life.

Adventurers in mismatched armor clinked mugs, arguing about monster sizes with dramatic hand gestures.

A bard strummed a lute, failing to compete with the noise but soldiering on regardless. Serving staff darted between tables like battlefield medics armed with platters and pitchers.

"Welcome back, Miss Aria!" one of the waitresses chirped, balancing three plates in one hand and a pitcher in the other.

"Busy as usual, I see." I grinned, waving at them with tired fingers.

For all the chaos, no one bothered me. No creeps this time despite my new look. Just the warm buzz of people living loudly, perhaps the effect of Miss Owner's earlier actions.

'Her presence is quite significant here.'

I climbed the stairs to the top floor, and as soon as I shut the door behind me, the world quieted.

My room was a sanctuary suspended above the city: cool air, polished wood, thick carpets that swallowed footsteps, and silence broken only by the faint hum of enchanted words woven into the walls.

But the first thing I noticed wasn't the massive bed or the view waiting beyond the glass wall.

It was the table in the living room.

A handful of items had been arranged with almost ceremonial precision. A small basket of fruits: apples, figs, and something glowing faintly blue. A parchment-wrapped parcel that smelled suspiciously of honeyed pastries. And, on top, a stack of papers bound neatly with the inn's golden seal.

The top sheet bore my signature: The residential contract.

"So it's official now," I muttered, dropping into the chair, flipping through the pages. "Aria Solona, resident of Westford."

The fairy owner worked fast. Efficient. Ruthless, I'd say.

I liked her already.

But, as tired as I was after that good meal, I didn't bother changing. There's no office tomorrow, no shitty boss to report to either.

I'll go find a new fantasy job tomorrow, and hopefully get to know more about the dungeon in the center of the city.

"Haaaa…"

I grabbed the Black Guide, the ominous leather tome that had become my survival manual, and carried it to the glass window wall.

The chair was perfectly angled toward the view, just the way I wanted it.

-Plop!

I sank into it, pressing my back against the cushions, and stared out at the city sprawling below.

Westford glittered like a spilled jewelry box. Floating lanterns bobbed along the streets, casting soft golden pools of light. Vendors packed up their stalls, shouting final offers to lingering customers.

Carriages rattled along stone roads. The adventurers' district was still alive, loud enough that I could see tiny glowing orbs of spelllight being tossed in drunken challenges.

And in the center, towering above everything, the dungeon tower stabbed into the heavens. Its black surface caught moonlight, gleaming like an unsheathed blade.

The night sky itself was obscene in its beauty.

Three now familiar moons hung heavy among a sea of stars, their silver light woven with faint trails of mana that looked like painted strokes of green and violet mist. The air shimmered faintly where currents of energy twisted overhead, alive and moving, unlike my polluted previous world.

I pressed a hand to the glass. "You're ridiculous," I whispered. "And I can't believe I live here now."

The Black Guide creaked open in my lap. I skimmed through familiar sections— monster habits, cultural etiquette, little "do nots" that saved me from accidentally getting stabbed in the market.

But my eyes kept sliding back to the part that mattered most.

Skills.

Innate Skills: Task Division (S), Pocket space (A), Mana affinity (F).

Job Skills: Creation (Novice), Dismantle (Novice), Material Collection (Novice), Material Appraisal (Novice), Blueprint Mapping (Novice).

Other skills: Assistance System (EX).

I stared at my status window, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Skills, skills, skills," I muttered. "This world runs on them. And I'm sitting here with a starter pack I don't even know how to properly use."

Spatial Storage had been handy. That was obvious. But the others? They sat there like puzzle pieces from a box without the picture. I was still unaware of their limits and functions even after the Assistance system's summary.

"Mmmm…"

I leaned my head against the cool glass.

Happy? Yes. Who wouldn't be thrilled with cheat codes on arrival? But beneath the excitement, there was this hollow pit.

'What use is potential if you don't know how to wield it?'

I let out a breath that fogged the glass. "Classic Cloud Architect. Built a thousand systems. Documented them to hell and back. Yet Half of them never got deployed… would this be the same?"

The irony didn't make me smile.

My thoughts drifted elsewhere. To the bartender— Vice Gillian Bluehorn, the elf with the sharp jawline and annoyingly perfect hair.

I'd planned to corner him after my bath, maybe tease out some information along with a drink.

But when I came down earlier, he wasn't there.

"The one time I actually want to flirt," I muttered, "the NPC despawns."

It was a joke, but the disappointment was real. His absence left a silence that no amount of chatter downstairs could fill.

My gaze fell back to the contract papers stacked on the table.

Between the lines of legal jargon were stamps— small seals that carried weight.

I leaned closer, tracing one with my fingertip. Adventurer Association-approved housing.

So it wasn't just a contract for an inn. This was recognition. Formal, binding, with the Association's mark of approval.

Riddle had mentioned them before. They weren't a guild. Guilds here were specialized: guilds for mages, smiths, alchemists, or rangers. Job-focused tribes basically.

The Association was different. The umbrella that kept everything tied together.

They set rules. Issued quests. Balanced payments. The co-working space for danger junkies who risked their lives in dungeons.

I tapped the guide against my knee. "So… the Association is like AWS. And the guilds are SaaS providers freeloading on top."

The Black Guide didn't dedicate a chapter to them. Just hints. Which worried me.

'Guides only skipped topics when the politics were messy. Unpredictable. Or dangerous.'

My reflection in the glass frowned back at me.

Adventurers… people who risked everything to dive into dungeons. But me? I was supposed to be one of the architects behind the death and misery of those very dungeon challengers.

"Guess I'll find out more soon."

-Swiiiiiiiiiiish…

I stayed like that for a while, staring at the night city. Listening to the night noises.

Westford had a rhythm if listened closely, even at night. Horses clopped faintly from distant streets. Bursts of laughter rose, then faded. Bells chimed the late hour. Somewhere below, magic hummed...

I felt small in this big room, but in a good way. Like being absorbed into a system larger than myself.

Soon, the Black Guide slid shut in my lap.

At some point, exhaustion won. I don't remember moving, but when I blinked awake, the world had shifted.

-Chirp~! Chirp~!

The sky outside was no longer black but painted in soft violet, streaked with gold where the sun crept over the horizon.

The city was stirring. Merchants dragged carts into position. Adventurers stumbled home from all-night quests, armor dented and cloaks singed.

The smell of fresh bread drifted faintly even up here.

The dungeon tower loomed unchanged. Eternal… waiting.

I stretched, my limbs heavy but my head clearer.

"Well," I muttered, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "Guess it's Association day."

I dressed quickly. The enchanted blouse and trousers still carried a faint lavender scent, courtesy of the inn's magical laundry.

My short hair stuck up in wild angles, that green inner glow flickering faintly in the mirror as I combed fingers through it.

I leaned closer, eyes locking with my reflection. The glow in my hair caught the morning light, casting small emerald sparks across the glass.

"Not bad," I told myself with a tired grin. "Not bad at all."

I grabbed the Black Guide, tucked the signed contract papers into my special space, and headed for the door.

Whatever the Association had in store for me… I'll take it all in Aria style.