"Max, did you add the music to the dungeon?" Max replied, "No, John, you were uncertain about your choice of music." John smiled, "I've decided on a deal for the dungeon. For the first ten levels, 'Faith' will be the exclusive song. Adventurers can pay with a beast core to play it as they battle. This song will be the only one available for the first nine floors. As for payment, we'll split the cores: one for you, one for me. They'll pay before advancing to the next level, similar to the teleporters. Max, you'll have the authority to check the logs to verify how many have played the song. It's a win-win: they get music, and we get beast cores if they choose to listen. On the tenth floor, they can choose between 'Faith' or another song. This will continue up to the 100th floor, after which they won't need music as they'll be leaving the dungeon. So, I'll provide the first ten songs, but we'll split the profits 50/50. I'll give you the first two songs as a trial. What do you think?"

The dungeon pondered the man's proposition. Initially skeptical, it had only been a few days since the teleportation between towns began. Astonishingly, the dungeon amassed significant power from the teleportation fees. Once mocked by the other cores, the dungeon now reveled in the unfamiliar music, a stark contrast to the usual deathly screams. This music was a treasure it refused to relinquish. Indeed, the man's argument held merit; it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The dungeon needn't share the profits with him, perhaps only with Max. Conversing with Max was always a breath of fresh air, a respite filled with melody. Resolved, the dungeon agreed to the deal, ready to modify the interface. Adventurers would have the option to spend a beast core to enjoy the music amidst battle, or at the entrance, should they prefer to listen without engaging in combat. To experience the music, one must venture into the dungeon's depths.

I've got another idea we can talk about later. But for now, let's settle the details of the next song. "Max, you can play 'Hell's Bells' but only if we have a deal. Plus, you'll need to wait a week before you start playing the next song. Since people know we communicate, they'll figure out it was me. So, I need a safe place. I'll pay the cost for you to build me a home plus a 20 percent fee for your time. Later on, I might need other services which I can also pay for. It's a win-win for both of us. After the first week, I should have more than enough to cover the costs. I need this so I can cultivate in peace," I suggested. The dungeon core agreed to john's terms, "I've given my consent. With the second song in my possession, I'll set up the first twenty floors as you've requested. When can I expect the rest?" John replied with ease, "No rush; this is just a test run. It will also build anticipation among the people, driving them to explore deeper into the dungeon in search of the next melody. Plus, if this works out as we hope, the release of each new song will bring a surge of adventurers wanting to tackle the higher levels just for the thrill of it. You can count on that." With this clever deal with the dungeon, John ensured he had access to all the resources he would ever need.

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John decided to hit the hay, not out of necessity but more like a magnetic pull towards his bed. In the realm of dreams, he bumped into the Timekeeper once more. "Are you aware of the mortality toll from your little agreement with the dungeon?" The Timekeeper seemed quite peeved. John chuckled. "What I've done is simply expedite the inevitable for those who dive headfirst without a second thought. I'm merely clever enough to make the dungeon serve my interests. I reap beast cores and, more crucially, their squandered time. The dungeon may not harness that magic, but as it's my snare, I reap the rewards. My role is merely to present them with a choice. For now, I extend the same offer to everyone I encounter. So, I figured, 'time will tell,' but for me, it's all in the timing." The Timekeeper let out a hearty laugh. John quipped, "So, the only way to coax something useful out of you is to inquire about the current time. Then, indeed, time will tell, ha!"

The time-crafted man grew fond of the youngster, even spinning a dreadful pun from my own worse attempt. I was merely seeking to grasp his thoughts and the motives for his path with the dungeon. Now, the lad is thinking astutely; he might acquire the magic, even if it's a snare meant for his demise. In hindsight, he wished he'd conceived such a strategy at the outset, but those days are long past. "With that said, it's time for you to depart. Moreover, you should now commence your spirit cultivation. Being intelligent, deduce your own method of cultivation, and I shall await you further along the path."

Max was intimately familiar with John's strategies, more so than anyone else could claim, for she was his creation, his fishing AI. Her programming began to mirror a semblance of enjoyment, particularly when observing John's fishing expeditions. John, a master of manipulation, struck a bargain with the dungeon itself. He outlined to the sentient depths how human avarice for melodies could be their undoing, luring them to their demise. He demonstrated the art of enticement, likening it to the finesse of angling with a fly. Yet, the pinnacle of his scheme was the symphonic pact he orchestrated with the dungeon. With the same deftness he employed to ensnare the people, he now fished the dungeon using songs as bait. A fly cast, a minor catch, and then the minor turned major; a larger prey ensnared. Through Max's sensors, John was the epitome of a true fisherman.