Monster Company Tycoon Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

After that, I continued interviewing the monsters who wanted to join the dungeon.

Apparently, the rumors about monsters struggling to find jobs weren’t unfounded, because the applicants just kept coming.

The low-ranking goblin who came after the skeleton had a pair of gentle, innocent-looking eyes that made it look almost adorable… if you took off your glasses.

With the glasses on… I didn’t even want to imagine what it looked like.

The goblin went on and on about its family’s difficult financial situation, pleading that it needed to find a stable job so it could support its sick mother and younger siblings.

Someone like that, and yet they were applying to a place like this…

I felt so guilty that I almost wanted to suggest looking for a job at another dungeon instead.

Then there was…

“If ya just hire me, I’ll work like a damn dog! Kurruk!”

…a kobold with a head that resembled a bulldog’s.

“I’ll take care of all the dungeon cleaning, nya!”

…a slime that eagerly crawled around on the floor as it said this.

After the interviews were over, I sat at my desk with my head in my hands, the résumés spread out in front of me.

Just then, Brownie flew over and casually asked,

“So? They were probably all pretty much the same, but were there any that stood out?”

“They’re all the same.”

They really were all the same.

It was practically like having Low-Ranking Goblin No. 1 leave the room only for Low-Ranking Goblin No. 2 to walk in.

Their levels, attack power, and defense were all pretty similar, and none had any special attributes.

On top of that, as if they’d all coordinated beforehand, every single one had left the certifications section completely blank, and their work experience was identical, too.

I’d been hoping for something like the “Trap Design Certification” Brownie had mentioned, so it was a real disappointment.

“I told you. If they’re applying to a dungeon like ours that doesn’t even have a reputation yet, they’re all going to be low-level losers.”

Even the salary they were asking for was exactly the same.

Five hundred eon a week.

“What on earth can you even do with 500 eon?”

“It’s enough to buy a few snacks in a human village, and that’s about it.”

According to Brownie’s explanation, 100 eon seemed to be worth about 1,000 won back in my hometown. That made it even harder to understand.

“What? But they all said they’d be fine working for just that much every week.”

“They know that’s about what they’re worth.”

“Even so…”

“Monsters hardly ever get a chance to earn human money. Getting hired at a dungeon is practically their only option.”

“Why do they even need to earn human money in the first place?”

Right, that was what seemed strange. They were monsters, so why did they need human money?

“Monsters aren’t allowed to form communities outside dungeons. The temples strictly forbid it. If a large group of them is discovered, they’ll immediately send out a subjugation force. In a way, dungeons are their shelter.”

Brownie explained this as though it were nothing unusual.

“So their level of civilization is way behind, and they have no choice but to depend on human society. Useful equipment, medicine, food… all of it has to be bought from humans with money.”

“Hmm…”

From Brownie’s explanation, I realized something important.

Monsters were prohibited from forming groups outside, but they could do so inside a dungeon. If that was the case… then wasn’t it the dungeon’s job to provide an environment where monsters could build a society of their own?

“Honestly, the God of Demons is just too cruel! If all monsters were stupid, they could’ve lived their lives without even realizing what they were missing. Instead, he gave them intelligence for no reason and made them yearn for human society!”

Brownie’s words sounded a little chilling.

“I see…”

For some reason, I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth.

“So, what are you going to do about hiring?”

I spread the ten résumés across the desk.

“What? Are you planning to hire ten monsters at once? You’re going all out right from the start!”

I’d gone through the applicants one by one, selecting the ones I wanted based solely on their personalities and attitudes, since all their qualifications were practically identical.

“Here’s how I see it. Honestly, there’s no point in trying to run a dungeon with just two or three weak monsters. If we try to save money that way, we’ll only end up being mediocre. In the end, we’ll have to overwhelm our opponents with numbers.”

Why were swarms of rats or mosquitoes so frightening when you encountered them as enemies in a game?

Because even if each individual creature was weak, things changed when dozens of them attacked all at once.

If you gathered a hundred monsters that each dealt one point of damage, you’d end up with a total of 100 damage.

“But I’m worried. If we hire ten monsters, their weekly wages alone will come to 5,000 eon. Even if we assume we only have to pay their wages and have no other expenses, we’ll only last nineteen weeks. About four months.”

If there was one good thing about my former company’s CEO, it was that he never delayed our salaries.

So I wanted to make sure I paid my own employees properly, at the very least.

“We need to earn at least 5,000 eon every week. Do you think that’s possible?”

“Our dungeon doesn’t have a reputation yet. Adventurers probably don’t even know it exists. It’ll be difficult without advertising.”

So this was a marketing problem.

“Still, I feel like we need at least ten monsters for this place to function like a proper dungeon…”

“Then just give it a try. If things don’t work out, you can fire them all. Just call it a probationary period! We haven’t even tested how they’ll perform in the field yet, have we?”

That little creature looked so cute, yet it said terrifying things as casually as if they were nothing.

Of course, companies sometimes had probationary periods to evaluate employees’ actual work abilities and how well they adapted to the organization, but…

“We’ll have to see what’s best by putting them to work ourselves… Wait a second.”

Suddenly, Brownie stopped talking and looked toward the exit.

“I just heard the sound of money. A little clink.”

“Huh?”

“Someone must have put money in the prayer box!”

Before I could even ask another question, she shot off in a flash.

The office was quite far from the exit. How had she heard the sound of a coin dropping all the way from here?

Brownie returned almost immediately, looking thoroughly flustered as she clutched a brass-colored coin tightly to her chest.

“This is bad! Whatever happens, hire them first! There’s no time to think!”

“Huh?”

“An adventurer will come to challenge the dungeon at daybreak! Look, they put 100 eon into the prayer box!”

Until yesterday, the prayer box had been completely empty. Had someone really put money in it?

“It’ll be a disaster if a challenger arrives and finds the dungeon completely empty!”

“Didn’t you say no one would know we existed because we had no reputation?!”

An adventurer was about to invade when we hadn’t prepared a single thing!

I’d only just finished interviewing the monsters!

“I don’t know either! Maybe they just happened to stumble across it. What do we do? I’m so nervous, but I’m so happy! The dungeon is finally going to open its doors! I’ve waited so long for this moment!”

Brownie spun around and around, hugging the coin tightly, looking as though she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

I was so overwhelmed that my head felt like it was spinning.

“Th-then we should hurry and contact the applicants who’ve passed… But how are we supposed to–”

“What’s so complicated about it? We’ve got this.”

Brownie opened her mouth wide toward the desk, just as she had when she handed me the emergency savings she’d collected earlier.

A dirt-covered object about the size of my palm popped out of her mouth and landed with a plop.

“This is… a stamp?”

“It’s the authority over the dungeon that the Demon King transferred to you. Stamp this on the résumés with a big THUMP! Then the monsters will become bound to this dungeon. That means they’re under contract!”

“The contract is finalized just by stamping them?”

“Of course, it’s a limited contract that only remains valid until you pay them what you’ve promised. Once the monsters are bound to the dungeon, you can summon them here anytime, anywhere. Hurry up and make the contracts!”

I picked up the stamp and examined its underside.

The words “[Hiring Complete]” were engraved on it in unusual characters. It was the same stamp that had been pressed onto my own résumé.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

“I’m doing the right thing here… right?”

Unable to withstand Brownie’s nagging, I stamped the ten résumés I’d selected, one after another.

THUMP!

The moment the red “[Hiring Complete]” stamp appeared, the papers began to glow red.

Brownie shouted at the glowing résumés at the top of her lungs.

“The contracts are finalized, so get to work immediately! You slaves!”

No sooner had she finished shouting than the résumés floated into the air and transformed into the very monsters I’d interviewed earlier.

Murmur, murmur.

They looked around blankly, apparently unable to make sense of what was happening. Then, all at once, they erupted into cheers.

“Waaaah! I finally got a job!”

“Mom! Dad! I can finally repay you for raising me!”

“I’m a proper dungeon monster now! Kraaagh!”

The monsters embraced one another or dropped to their knees on the floor, reveling in the joy of having finally secured employment.

The once-quiet dungeon was now bustling with monsters.

“Thank you so much for hiring me! I’ll work hard!”

“No matter which adventurers challenge us, I’ll do my best to squeeze every last bit of fear out of them! Rattle, rattle.”

They were so happy that I couldn’t bring myself to mention the probationary period.

I put on a benevolent expression and thought to myself,

Well, since things have turned out this way, I guess they’ll all just have to become full-time employees…

All I have to do is somehow earn 5,000 eon a week, right? And we’ve already earned 100 eon…

That meant we only needed forty-nine more adventurers who would each put 100 eon into the prayer box.

“Quiet down, you slaves!”

Brownie shouted, dousing their cheers with a bucket of cold water.

“From now on, you’re going to devote your lives to working for this dungeon! You’d better listen to me, and you’d better listen to Chihuahua here, the person in overall charge!”

I stumbled for a moment at the sudden mention of that all-too-familiar nickname.

“Chihuahua? Why are you calling me that, too?”

“Because when you signed the contract with the Demon King, your name was Chihuahua.”

“No, that’s…! That’s a nickname. It’s not my name!”

“Can’t be helped. The contract was clearly made between the Demon King and Chihuahua, wasn’t it? So if you’re not Chihuahua, then all your authority over the dungeon will disappear, too.”

If I lost my authority here, I wouldn’t be able to keep working at the dungeon.

In the end, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and accept Brownie calling me Chihuahua.