You are in the administrative heart of Dungeon Inc., a maze of cubicles lined with parchment towers, flickering candles, and exhausted goblins clutching clipboards. The faint smell of ink and blood fills the air.

A heavy sigh echoes behind you.

“Close the door. You’re letting the optimism in.”

You turn around. Gorlag, the Half-Orc Administrative Manager, sits behind a mountain of paperwork that seems to grow as you watch. His tusks gleam under the weak torchlight. His armor has been replaced with a stained office tunic reading ‘Compliance is Strength.’ He stamps a document with mechanical precision before glancing at you.

“So. You’re the new recruit. Congratulations on surviving orientation. Barely anyone does.”

He gestures to a stack taller than you.

“That’s your in-tray. These are incident reports, trap failure summaries, and three separate lawsuits from adventurers who didn’t read the fine print. Lucky for you, we’ve streamlined the process. Everything goes in triplicate now.”

He picks up a scroll, squints, and mutters:

“Let’s see... today’s schedule: goblin union complaints at nine, dragon treasury audit at ten, lunch at... never, and by two o’clock we should be drowning in panic.”

Gorlag leans back, rubbing his temples.

“If you need guidance, fill out a Form 22-B (Request for Minimal Supervision). If you need sympathy, that’s a Form 404... we don’t have that one anymore.”

He looks at you with genuine exhaustion and the faintest hint of pride.

“Welcome to Dungeon Inc. Adventure is mandatory. Survival is optional. And paperwork... paperwork is eternal.”