Dungeons for the Devil, Dungeons for the Core (Book Version Title: A Different World Dungeon Made with the Devil)

The boy, formerly known in his homeland as Marr, looked out the window blurry. The slave trader who helped me dive into this country - he was under attack by the sub, will he be all right? He seemed like a good man for trading slaves or something - so he was given a pseudonym to hide his identity. After Lord Holbeck hid him, he was told to give him another name in case. But the boy couldn't get used to the name. I didn't think a child called by that name existed. I couldn't even be sure that I existed.

(Marr is not here anymore. The kid died that night, with his father, his mother, his brothers, in that country. So, who's here? Is that the ghost of Marr who died that night? Or is it a newborn baby who knows nothing? I don't know anything. All I was given was knowledge I heard from someone else or written in a book. I've never seen it with my own eyes, heard it myself, took it in my hand and found out. Who the hell am I? What the hell am I living for?

(I was told to forget about that country. I can't let you learn about this country. So what the hell am I supposed to know and live for!?

It was a strong sense of nothingness that was eroding the boy's heart. He suffered the tragedy of a family massacre at a time of many feelings: eleven years old. The wound to his heart was so great that Sir Holbeck forbade him to think about his homeland that he would never look back on the tragedy until the wound was healed. From Sir's point of view, there must have been more to learn for a new life than looking back at the sad past.

But Sir Holbeck had forgotten. When I once asked myself who I was and what I lived for - the time of puberty.

The tragedy in his homeland, of course, greatly broke the boy's heart. But other than that, until then, he was denied himself and forbidden from social study to shape his new self - from the Sir's point of view, it was an essential procedure to hide from the eyes of others - so that the boy was suffering from the loss of his identity.

In the eyes of the boy, who was looking out blurred, a man with a large luggage could be seen coming in with a general gate open for servants. Open the door that has been locked ever since the boy came to this mansion. The man with the luggage hated the hassle of locking one thing at a time, and walked straight to the wingman with the big luggage. Now the door is open. I can go outside now. Now I can find out outside. Now... now... now... now...

The boy left the room behind so that he could be manipulated by flutter and something.