Lucky Idiot
Market — Eastern Blocks
The market street near the eastern blocks was busy, but not loud.
That alone kept most adventurers away.
She moved through it without hurry, boots steady on stone, one hand resting near her belt out of habit rather than threat. Light armor—worn but clean. The kind that had been repaired more than replaced. A small pouch hung at her side, the faint scent of herbs following her wherever she passed.
She stopped at a stall selling dried roots.
"Two bundles."
The merchant nodded, already reaching down. "Dungeon?"
A short nod.
"Careful then."
No reply. Just payment, a practiced knot, and she turned back into the flow of the street.
Around her, adventurers laughed too loudly. Gods argued with shopkeepers. A group of rookies passed, gear too new, eyes too bright.
She watched them for half a second longer than necessary.
Then looked away.
She adjusted the strap across her chest and kept walking.
She wasn't late. She wasn't early. She was exactly where she meant to be.
That was how she liked it.
A movement at the edge of her vision made her pause.
Someone in a black hoodie stood near the fountain ahead.
Not doing anything wrong.
Not watching anyone in particular.
Just… there.
Too still.
She slowed.
The boy didn't look dangerous. No armor worth mentioning. No confidence either. But his posture was wrong—not tense, not relaxed. Like someone trying to take up as little space as possible. New to the city, maybe. Or running from something.
A beginner?
Maybe.
She passed him without turning her head.
No reason to stare.
Still—two steps later, she glanced back.
He hadn't moved.
A faint frown touched her brow, then vanished.
None of my business.
She headed toward the western stairs and disappeared into the crowd.
Edges of the Dungeon
The Dungeon swallowed sound differently this deep.
She noticed it the moment she crossed the threshold—how footsteps dulled, how voices didn't echo the way they should. Her grip shifted slightly on her sword as she moved forward, careful but unhurried.
First floor.
Easy. Until it wasn't.
Movement ahead.
She slowed instantly, slipping into a side passage.
Not monsters.
Someone smaller. Pink hair. Hood up. Moving fast.
A prum.
She didn't follow.
Prums didn't move like that without reason.
A moment later, something small rolled across the stone floor nearby and stopped—twitching.
Her shoulders tensed.
"…Monster lure."
Her gaze snapped down the corridor.
Someone else was there.
A boy.
Too close.
"Idiot," she muttered, already adjusting her stance.
The lure worked fast.
Something large moved in the shadows, claws scraping stone.
She didn't rush in.
Not because she didn't care.
Because charging blind got people killed.
Then—
A sharp whistle cut the air.
Not hers.
Her eyes snapped toward the sound.
A golden flash. Clean. Precise.
The monster collapsed.
Silence.
She stayed still, watching.
The prum was gone.
The boy was still standing.
Alive.
He bent down, picked something up—a magic stone—and said something she couldn't hear.
She exhaled slowly.
"…Lucky."
Or maybe not.
She turned away and continued deeper, already adjusting her route.
Behind her, the Dungeon shifted again.
And somewhere nearby, someone had just survived their first mistake.
The Dungeon rarely allowed second ones.