23)

Well, I guess that it was safe enough to talk now. And it’s something that might be helpful for adventurers on Earth to know about.

I created a written note and had Envoy pick it up to run over to hand it to her. Only instead he crumpled it up into a ball, made a coughing sound, and whipped it at her head as she looked down at the noise.

The little guy has a good throwing arm.

Iris flinched a little as the paper ball bounced off her chest and missed seeing the strange salute Envoy made at her with one finger as she fumbled around with her hands trying to catch the note before it fell to the ground.

She uncrumpled the note to find out what it was. "I get stronger by having people level up in the dungeon. All that would happen if they died inside would have been a lot of potential being lost, but everyone else would get a good reason to be more careful.”

Iris finished the note and looked over at Envoy who flipped his head at her before racing off. She grunted, then spoke. “Maybe I should have forced them back down a few dozen times instead of letting them go. But I guess I don’t want you to get too strong before I go in.”

She glanced around in the direction that Envoy had run off to. But I didn’t see a reason to reply yet.

“I did get a first dungeon reward, but it was only ten experience points. So it might take a bit before I get to third level. Unless you got tougher things to fight out through that other door?"

This time I send Kelvin out with the note. Which made her mummer. “Are they getting bigger?”

She unfolded the note and nodded along as she read. "Nope. For now, all I can do is the one room. I have to raise my level to build the dungeon larger.

She blinked her eyes drowsily and yawned. “I’m sure they are some more questions I should be asking Tark, but I need to get back to bed.”

She pushed herself up to her feet using the armrest and a cardboard box. Pausing to look at the stairs going down to the dungeon. "Those boys' parents should have questions and I don’t think the little shits are smart enough to make up a story. There is a slight chance that the police will actually get off their butts and want to check down there. If there's any way of closing that off in case they do, you might want to give it a try.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Then she headed off to bed.

It sounded like a good plan. The police sounded like they would be similar to garrison soldiers or town guards. Lazy, corrupt, and in need of an occasional easy victory to show to their bosses to prove their worth.

Going after the weak and disenfranchised, say, like older people, was usually their top choice.

I made an open shaft below the washing machine to keep a clear path to my core so I could seal up the stairs with reproduced cement. Along with ten feet of the local soil underneath it in case someone got ambitious and wanted to dig. The dungeon sign was removed as well as the turning mouse.

After getting back some magic points, I also removed all signs of the Squirrel and Raccoon death runs I had built into the house.

Then…

Well, I wasn't sure what a sex dungeon was. The old encyclopedia didn't cover that. But I filled up Iris’s basement with some torture devices I had seen in some dungeons on the assumption that they had to be based on something real. As well as reproducing a few things from the red books.

With all the sharp bits removed first of course. I also put some leather padding inside the manacles on the walls to protect people’s skins. That left only a few things someone would have to make a real effort to really hurt anyone.

"Eat them up Tark" indeed. The old woman needed at least a little knockback for trying to feed two people into a dungeon, even if they did deserve to die. People who have been wronged should never be the ones to punish those who wronged them. Punishment is for someone without a personal vendetta to decide.

Besides, if the boys talk. Having the sex dungeon part of their story turn out to be real will only prove they had entered the house. And if they don’t mention anything at all, it will just be an amusing and potentially embarrassing surprise for Iris.

Surprisingly a fat man and a younger woman in uniforms did show up later that morning. Iris had been awake and greeted them at the door with a story about finding her window screen missing from her window and her side door being unlocked.

The smaller of the two boys stood out front with two men. I assumed one of them was his father, but the way the other man stood… I guess that sort of thing was accepted on Earth. Not that I had ever had a problem with it. Once Alelan explained the whole thing to me I found out a lot of men, and women, that I had known and called friends for years had been of their type.

In fact, a lot of them became adventurers since they felt unwelcome in normal communities. But out in the borderlands, no one cared who paired up with who at night if one of them could deal with the dire wolves circling your homestead at night.

I admit I had often been curious why Mercer and Abelard had so often been willing to not only share a room.But even to share one that only had a single bed. I mean, it wasn't as if they couldn't afford their own rooms. How cheap could you get?

The police asked to search her house. Iris demanded to know, "Do you have a warrant?" and when they said no, she refused until they came back with one, and then she slammed the door shut.

“Tark, did you seal up those stairs?” I sent Kelvin out to sneak up close enough to hand her a note without being visible from outside. The note was a simple “Yes”

After a few hours, the two Police were back along with a few others. In that time Iris had removed all the bullets from her gun and laid them out in an array around her weapon on a low table in her living room along with a printed page of paper inside a shiny clear cover.

Then she had lunch and watched an entertainment called "Bloodsport” that involved a very flexible man fighting in some sort of contest. Seriously, no man should be able to spread his legs like that. How could that not hurt?

After she answered the door and looked at another piece of paper that was thrust into her hands, Iris stepped outside with Buttercup in her arms. “My incensed firearm is on the coffee table, unloaded and my paperwork is next to it. Please wipe your feet.’

Then she glanced down at her cat. “Dam boy, you’re getting fat.”

That got her a hurt look from the overweight man until he noticed the cat.