I Am Not a Robot. Beep-bop

Chapter 46: Overwhelmed by Affairs… 1

When the monster summoning cycle of the Green Factory, a biological factory, came around, the area would swarm with people, almost like a festival crowd.

The crowd consisted of low-rank hunters, guilds in need of quick cash, and even civilians armed with weapons.

“Looking for someone to hunt 10 goblins!”

“Our goal is 5 trolls.”

“Hunting will be restricted in a week.”

“What? Who are you to impose hunting restrictions?!”

“The Myungyeo Guild plans to implement hunting restrictions to foster new recruits.”

“What authority do you have?!”

“Boo! This trash guild!”

“Our party isn’t just about hunting; it’s about connecting with other hunters and building lasting relationships…”

“That crazy old geezer came all the way here for matchmaking.”

“Hey, he’s been matchmaking until 38 but is still single himself. You’ve got to understand.”

On the first day, those who aimed to make a tidy profit at the biological factory started forming parties with like-minded individuals.

Low-rank hunters banded together, guild-affiliated hunters departed in pre-arranged parties, and even civilians hired hunters as guides.

Meanwhile, street vendors and traveling merchants set up shop here and there, colluding to siphon money from the hunters, while the crowd in the area steadily grew.

However, even when the Green Factory started operating, people didn’t immediately charge into the dungeon.

The Green Factory generated 1,832 monsters per cycle.

Most were goblins, but when orcs or trolls grouped in threes or fours, the danger level spiked.

Even though it was a low-rank dungeon with no mutations and just goblins, everyone knew better than to let their guard down, risking death or injury that would lead to unnecessary expenses.

[Soon, hunting at the Green Factory will begin.]

“Ohhh…!”

“Finally!”

Low-rank hunters usually waited until the monster density in the Green Factory decreased.

By the third day, the optimal time, parties would start cautiously preparing to enter the Green Factory or nearby areas where monsters had settled.

“If I just endure today, I can buy a Galaxy Smartwatch 271…!”

“Honey, once this fight is over, I’m divorcing you.”

“Is this guy insane?”

As alarms set by hunters began ringing everywhere, people drew their weapons.

The time spent staking out spots here was over.

The Green Factory’s popularity stemmed from the low risk and the large quantity of monster byproducts and meat it offered compared to other biological factories.

On the first day, over a thousand monsters were generated in a massive horde.

As time passed, however, and monsters spilled out of the cramped biological factory, Executors from the Outer Wall Exploration Agency and hunters assigned to specific requests would thin their numbers somewhat.

Thus, the third day of the cycle marked the peak time.

This was the ideal moment—monster density was manageable, and the bounty was abundant.

For low-rank hunters, the Green Factory’s cycle was akin to farmers eagerly awaiting the autumn harvest.

Other biological factories also drew crowds like this, but the Green Factory stood out for its manageable monster difficulty, absence of gimmicks, and lack of dangerous mutated monsters, making it a safer option.

Hunting four goblins could provide enough for a week’s living expenses.

An orc could cover two weeks, and a troll, if caught successfully, could ensure food and lodging for at least two months.

Even non-Awakened individuals armed with decent handmade weapons flocked to the Green Factory to try their luck, aiming to earn pocket money or create tales of valor to share with their girlfriends.

Civilians could even obtain temporary hunter licenses from the Exploration Agency to hunt goblins if they wanted to experience a small windfall.

Of course, the clause that the agency bore no responsibility for accidental deaths also existed.

Today, however, a wail of despair and sorrow echoed along the path to the Green Factory.

“Nooo!!!”

The one screaming was a low-rank hunter.

Normally, his rivals or even his friends would mock him, but now, everyone wore similar expressions.

Low-rank hunters had abandoned other requests to prepare thoroughly, even buying new matching equipment, all to exploit the Green Factory.

But upon arrival, all they found was ruin.

The vast sea of green that should have been the monster horde was nowhere in sight.

“Who could have done such a horrible thing…?”

“No, my grinding spot!!!”

“Agh! All my efforts have gone to waste…!”

“What are we supposed to live on now…?”

Other low-rank hunters also vented their frustrations in various ways as they gazed at the desolate ruins of the Green Factory.

The Green Factory, their reliable source of income, had suddenly vanished.

For them, it was akin to being fired from their jobs without any explanation.

In fact, the Green Factory’s monthly economic impact rivaled that of a decent industrial zone.

Now, however, it was nothing but a barren ruin.

“Who is responsible for this!!?”

Naturally, the hunters were furious.

Who dared to destroy their grinding spot?

No, their very livelihood—the Green Factory?

The angry mutterings of a low-rank hunter spread like a contagion.

Hunters who had come up empty-handed began to gather and propagate conspiracy theories about Ark.

“Who requested its destruction?”

“Don’t tell me the Exploration Agency requested the factory’s destruction?”

“Are you out of your mind? Why would they destroy a low-risk biological factory?”

“Is this the higher-ups saying they’ll only take profitable high-rank hunter requests, leaving us to starve?”

“What the hell?! Those bastards deserve to die!”

“It’s all because of that Bronte guy, the jerk with the gold-plated jaw implant.”

“Exactly! We should oust that jawed freak from the Exploration Agency!”

The sorrow and rage of the low-rank hunters, whose livelihood had been cut off, were immediately directed at Bronte, the administrator responsible for the Green Factory under the Outer Wall Exploration Agency.

“We understand your frustration, but our agency prioritizes the convenience and livelihood of hunters. No destruction request was ever filed for the Green Factory, and our resident Overseer has confirmed no such inquiry was made.”

However, Bronte, the administrator overseeing the Exploration Agency, could only offer an official response: that no destruction request had been made to the depths of Ark.

In any case, the agency had no reason to destroy a biological factory unless there were clear dangers.

After all, the agency relied on hunters for its own profits.

In fact, the destruction of the Green Factory could hurt the Exploration Agency even more financially than the low-rank hunters.

“This must have been done by those criminals from the lower sectors!”

But this area was part of the Kowloon residential zone, where First-Class Overseer Oriana resided.

Would anyone dare to conduct a dungeon destruction operation in an Overseer’s domain?

Biological factories were considered property, much like mining rights. Destroying one amounted to an act of terror against Ark’s assets.

If the culprit’s identity were revealed, they would face relentless and brutal pursuit from the Overseers.

No ordinary criminal or rogue Awakened would dare attempt such destruction unless they were exceptionally reckless.

That said, there were always high-level hunters or rogue Awakened individuals with sociopathic tendencies who occasionally caused chaos.

Lower-sector criminals usually had nothing to lose, and few had the luxury of considering the consequences of their actions.

So it wasn’t entirely impossible that someone had destroyed the Green Factory out of sheer malice toward the upper sectors.

For these reasons, the Exploration Agency recognized that the sudden disappearance of the Green Factory was no trivial matter.

A request for appropriate personnel deployment had to be made.

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“Hm. So this is the place.”

Rosa Vintz, a Third-Class Overseer, surveyed her surroundings as the cold outside air brushed against her skin.

Although far below the rank of First-Class Overseer Oriana, no one in the area dared to underestimate an Overseer.

Third-Class Overseers boasted combat power comparable to B~A-rank hunters, received elite education, and wielded some of Ark’s administrative authority and power.

In smaller districts or lower levels, a Third-Class Overseer could effectively rule as a king.

Rosa’s primary duties typically involved patrolling the inner regions of Ark alongside her subordinates, focusing on crime prevention and case investigations.

But the Green Factory destruction incident had urgently dispatched her to this location.

Naturally, Rosa suppressed her annoyance at having to leave her comfortable and warm life inside the inner walls to venture to the outer walls and beyond, where hunters—derisively nicknamed “knife-wielding thugs”—resided.

‘Tch. Why does someone embodying Ark’s will like me have to be in such a filthy and crude place…?’

For a mere Third-Class Overseer to call herself the embodiment of Ark’s will, she would need to be at least a First-Class Overseer or one of the senior administrators of Gre-Orio.

Yet Rosa, having been born into a privileged family and never having experienced failure, had an inflated sense of self-worth.

Of course, if Rosa steadily built up her achievements, she might rise to the rank of First-Class Overseer in about thirty years.

Becoming a First-Class Overseer in one’s teens or twenties was usually the result of being an extraordinary prodigy or a rule-breaking anomaly like a Returnee.

For most born into Ark’s inner elite, the standard path was to start as a Fifth-Class Overseer and gradually climb the ranks.

In that sense, Rosa’s ascent was relatively swift among her peers on the elite track.

Having become a Third-Class Overseer in her early thirties, Rosa was regarded as a remarkable talent and a rising star.

“Overseer Rosa, traces of destruction combined with organic matter have been found in large quantities. It seems psychometry won’t function properly.”

The assistants wearing gas masks reported the investigation results of the Green Factory to Rosa, who furrowed her brows.

“What kind of organic matter is it?”

“It is presumed to be the intestinal and fleshy organs that originally formed the biological factory. They are organs filled with immense vitality, like a womb, that produce monsters.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t know that? What I’m asking is whether traces of human fragments are embedded in that organic matter!”

At Rosa’s rebuke, the assistant flinched and lowered his head.

He thought of retorting, “Why are you snapping when you didn’t explain yourself properly?” but, as a mere assistant, he couldn’t dare argue with Rosa, a Third-Class Overseer.

“There aren’t any… Although there are clear traces of combat, we cannot determine who the fight was with, even excluding psychometry.”

“…Fine. Bring me the recent entry and exit records of the Exploration Agency.”

“What period should I request?”

“Don’t make me state the obvious. It’s all records from one week surrounding the estimated date of the Green Factory’s destruction.”

Rosa ultimately had to cross-check the countless personnel records of those who entered and exited the Exploration Agency and match them against the hunters who went on outer wall explorations on the day the Green Factory was destroyed.

If the administrator of the Exploration Agency, Bronte, found out, he might protest, arguing that not even an Overseer could seize the agency’s confidential records without a warrant.

However, even Bronte couldn’t outright oppose a Third-Class Overseer, so he would inevitably hand over the documents.

“Ensure you have everything by today. Be thorough.”

“Yes, yes… Understood.”

What good were assistants, after all?

While Rosa sipped a trendy coffee mix popular among Overseers, her assistants had to suppress their curses and frustration internally while maintaining composed expressions as they carried out her orders.

‘Well, it won’t be too difficult. Sifting through the exploration records is a hassle, but it’s most likely related to a Returnee.’

Returnees always caused trouble.

One of the core duties of Overseers was knowing how to deal with Returnees, and Rosa had encountered many who lacked a sense of reality during her work.

‘They are beings that inherently go against Ark’s will. They lack ambition or awareness and were lucky enough to end up in some game-like alternate world, where they wasted their time idling. Yet they think they’ve accomplished something.’

For a long time, the easiest job for Returnees with uncertain identities was becoming a hunter.

Naturally, where hunters gathered, Returnees caused frequent incidents, big and small.

This time, it was clear that some overzealous and meddlesome Returnee had caused this mess.

‘There’s always one idiot who hears about a biological factory that endlessly generates monsters and decides to destroy it for “the good of the people” without considering the consequences. They don’t realize how many jobs that factory provides.’

Rosa let out a deep sigh but also felt a tinge of anticipation.

Teaching arrogant, overconfident Returnees a lesson was one of the few joys in the otherwise monotonous life of an Overseer.

‘If they’re good-looking, I could always sell them at an auction.’

“Overseer Rosa!”

“Are you finished?”

“Yes, we identified a total of 37 hunters with Returnee origins!”

Not all Returnees were foolish.

Nor did all Returnees possess great power.

The ones with a decent grasp of their situation kept quiet and adapted to life in Ark.

Of the 37 Returnee hunters with Exploration Agency entry records, most had either received warnings from Overseers or shown evidence of “reform” in their behavior.

“Now, do I have to sift through this lot to find the troublemaker and apprehend them…? Hm?”

Rosa’s attention was drawn to the profile of a young girl.

Alice.

A Returnee hunter with the appearance of a charming, young girl.

While her doll-like beauty was striking, in a world full of magic and technology like Ark, such looks were hardly rare among Awakened individuals.

‘Well, she is particularly pretty, though…’

But what caught Rosa’s attention wasn’t Alice’s appearance.

It was that her Green Factory entry record precisely matched the date of the destruction.

“Bingo.”