CHAPTER 103: CHAPTER 103: THE MAGICAL AUDIT.

The morning after the broadcast, my dungeon was like a fortress of quiet, nervous energy.

The usual flood of tourists was gone; FaeLina, in a moment of pure managerial panic, had put up a sign that read, "CLOSED FOR MANDATORY EXISTENTIAL REASSESSMENT," which had only confused the crowds even more.

My team was gathered in the main lobby, and for once, no one was celebrating. They were all staring at the final line of the notification from the Royal ScryNet Guild, which was still shimmering on Dave’s Scry-Orb.

[A formal inquiry from the Royal Mages’ Guild will be arriving in the morning...]

FaeLina was having a complete, high-speed, and very vocal meltdown. "A formal inquiry!" she shrieked, zipping back and forth in the middle of the lobby. "From the Mages’ Guild! The most powerful, rule-obsessed, and socially awkward group of people in the entire kingdom! They’re going to audit our magic! They’re going to look at the books! The magical books!"

Her public panic was bad enough, but then her psychic voice, a high-pitched squeak of pure terror, drilled directly into my mind. ’Mochi, what are they going to find?!’ she fretted. ’This whole... nap-based magic thing of yours isn’t in any of the approved magical textbooks! What if they classify you as an ’Unregistered Magical Phenomenon’? We’ll be shut down for being a public hazard!’

The rest of the team, who had only heard the out-loud part of her meltdown, were just as worried.

Pip, who had just recovered from the stress of the show, immediately dove under a table. "Are we going to get in trouble?" he squeaked.

Gilda just crossed her arms, her expression a mask of grim determination. "Let them come," she grunted. "If they try anything funny, I’ll introduce them to a ’formal inquiry’ from my axe."

Just as Gilda finished her threat, the air in the center of the lobby shimmered and distorted. With a soft sound like the turning of a giant, ancient page, a perfect, circular tear opened in the space between them. It wasn’t the golden light of a Royal portal, but a swirl of deep, academic blue, covered in shimmering, silver runes. Two figures stepped through.

The first to step through was a woman who looked as if she had personally witnessed the invention of magic and had been bored by it ever since. She had a long, white braid, and a look on her face that said she was already mentally filling out the paperwork for this ridiculous assignment.

Trailing behind her like an excited puppy was a young man with wide, curious eyes behind a pair of thick spectacles. He was clutching a book so massive it probably needed its own royal cartographer to map out the table of contents.

Both wore the deep blue, star-covered robes of the Royal Mages’ Guild.

The older mage stepped forward, her voice a dry, weary rasp that sounded like old parchment being crumpled. "I am High Magus Elara," she said, her eyes scanning the quiet, cozy lobby with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "And this," she gestured to the young man, who was already furiously scribbling notes in his book, "is my apprentice, Albus. We are here on behalf of the Mages’ Guild to conduct a full, magical audit of the ’unprecedented soporific properties’ of your recent ScryNet broadcast."

’It’s worse than I thought, Mochi!’ FaeLina’s psychic voice was a squeak of pure terror in my mind. ’It’s a formal inspection... and she brought a student along for extra credit!’

High Magus Elara just sighed, the long, weary sigh of a teacher who has brought her overeager student on a field trip to a very strange petting zoo. She gave a single, almost imperceptible nod to Albus.

That was all the permission he needed. With a squeak of pure academic joy, the apprentice charged forward, his magical instruments already appearing in his hands, and the magical audit began.

And it was the most awkward and deeply uncomfortable experience of my entire second life.

Albus, the apprentice, was a whirlwind of academic curiosity. He produced a series of delicate, magical instruments and began to take readings of everything. He measured the "ambient tranquility levels" of the air. He took a core sample of the moss to analyze its "dormancy-inducing particles." He even poked his head under the table where Pip was hiding.

"Fascinating!" he muttered, scribbling a note. "Subject appears to be exhibiting classic signs of acute social anxiety, yet the dungeon’s aura is actively counteracting his stress levels! I need a detailed, first-hand account!"

He then approached Sir Crumplebuns, his eyes wide with fascination as a small, silver orb he was holding began to glow brightly. "The ambient heroic energy is off the charts!" he whispered excitedly. "Subject, could you please perform a ’heroic pose’ for a baseline reading?"

Sir Crumplebuns, who had been waiting his entire life for this moment, puffed out his chest and struck a magnificent pose that overloaded the device with a loud, sad POP

.

Albus, undeterred, then turned his attention to Gilda, holding up a new, more durable-looking sensor. "Excuse me, ma’am," he asked, his voice full of scholarly curiosity. "May I take a sample of the ’intimidation enchantment’ on your axe?"

Gilda didn’t say a word. She just gave him a flat, dead-eyed stare. It was the simple, terrifying look of a professional warrior calmly assessing whether the small, nerdy man in front of her was worth the effort of swinging her axe.

A thin wisp of smoke began to curl from the sensor in Albus’s hand.

He looked down at the smoking device, then back up at the unblinking warrior. He furiously scribbled a new note in his massive tome: ’Subject’s glare appears to be a potent, non-magical source of pure terror. Further study required.’

High Magus Elara, on the other hand, just seemed bored by the whole affair. She ignored her apprentice’s frantic experiments and walked over to the Tea Nook, ordered a cup of the now-famous chamomile from a very nervous Sloosh, and took a long, thoughtful sip.

"Remarkable," she murmured to herself, a flicker of genuine surprise in her tired eyes. "The alchemical purity is... perfect. Absolutely no external enchantment. It’s just... a really, really good cup of tea."

While Albus continued his frantic, hour-long investigation—which involved taking magical readings of a sleeping Zazu, analyzing the "fluff-to-density ratio" of a pillow, and attempting to catalogue the dreams of a Dust Bunny—Elara just sat in the Tea Nook, calmly finishing her drink and enjoying the quiet.

’They’re not finding anything!’ FaeLina’s thought was a buzz of triumphant relief in my mind. ’Because there’s nothing to find! Our coziness is 100% pure, uncut tranquility!’

Finally, with his notebook full of scribbles and his instruments smoking slightly, Albus returned to his master’s side. Elara drained the last of her tea, stood, and approached the center of the room.

"Dungeon Core," she said, her voice a tired but respectful murmur. "We have completed our initial assessment. We have found no evidence of illegal enchantment, no mind-altering spells, and no violations of the Royal Accord on Magical Broadcasting."

A collective sigh of relief went through my team. Gilda’s hand relaxed on her axe. Pip peeked out from under his table.

"However," she continued, and the entire room tensed up again, "we have also never encountered a magical aura quite like yours. It does not operate on any known principles of healing magic. It does not mend wounds or restore stamina. It simply... makes one feel... sleepy."

She looked at the empty air where my consciousness was focused, and for the first time, a look of genuine, academic curiosity appeared on her weary face.

"The Guild is... intrigued," she said, and the word sent a cold shudder through my core. "We will require a more... in-depth study. A research team will be arriving next week to begin a period of extended observation to catalogue your unique qualities."

She turned and began to walk towards the portal. "Do not be alarmed," she said over her shoulder. "It will be a very quiet and non-invasive process. Mostly just... observation."

The two mages stepped through the portal, and it swirled shut, leaving my dungeon in a new, and much more profound, state of silence.

FaeLina just hovered in the air, her face a mask of pure, defeated horror. A one-star review she could handle. A Royal Summons, maybe. But this...

"A... an extended period of observation?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "They’re turning us into a laboratory. Our brand is ruined forever."

’It’s worse than that, FaeLina,’ I projected, the full, soul-crushing horror of the situation dawning on me. ’A team of quiet, academic observers. They’ll have charts. They’ll have graphs. They’ll be tracking my "tranquility levels" on a minute-by-minute basis. They’re not just moving in; they’re turning my entire existence... into a performance review.’

I didn’t just have an apprentice anymore. I had a board of directors. And they were all moving in.

But just as my own core was about to wilt from the sheer, bureaucratic terror of it all, FaeLina’s panicked aura suddenly shifted. It went from a dim, worried lavender to a sharp, calculating, and disturbingly profitable shade of pink.

’Wait a minute,’ her psychic voice was a whisper of pure, unadulterated genius in my mind. ’A long-term, Guild-sanctioned research project... Mochi, what’s the standard stipend for long-term magical observation? We need to draft an invoice.’

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Author’s Note:

And the consequences of fame just keep getting worse! A "formal inquiry" from the Mages’ Guild is Mochi’s personal, bureaucratic nightmare.

I love our new characters, the weary, seen-it-all High Magus Elara and her overeager apprentice, Albus. They’re the perfect academic duo to try and make sense of our cozy chaos. The highlight of the audit for me was Gilda’s glare being so powerful it broke a magical sensor. That’s a new level of non-magical intimidation.

But a multi-year study?! They’re turning Mochi’s home into a laboratory! Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, he’s just been assigned a board of directors to monitor his napping.

But of course, FaeLina’s final line is the real MVP. Only she would see a multi-year scientific observation and immediately think to draft an invoice. A true manager to the end. Thanks for reading!