If you stood before a dungeon...
Would you walk in?
Like in all those fantasy novels, webtoons, and games—
Where dungeons tore through the fabric of the world, birthing monsters and miracles, heroes and horrors.
Where the protagonist grows stronger, finds comrades, overcomes tragedy...
My life was one of those stories.
But I was never the hero.
I was the forgotten. The side note.
The unwanted extra, scribbled into the margins and then ignored.
Even my parents didn't see me.
They never said it. They didn't have to.
A glance was enough.
A quiet dinner.
An untouched birthday cake.
I was a failed item in their inventory. A burden too light to carry, too bitter to throw away.
---
The gate before me shimmered in cerulean light.
Dungeon Class: E.
Difficulty: Unknown.
A crowd had gathered, murmuring like distant ghosts behind a veil of glass.
Their eyes were full of something worse than hate.
Pity.
I hated it.
They looked at me like I was a show—
A tragedy they didn't pay for but still got front-row seats to.
Not because they cared.
But because it was better than facing their own dull, hollow lives.
I let my bag fall.
Took a step forward.
Then another.
"You don't even have the stats!" someone yelled.
Another laughed—"Go on, loser! Maybe you'll be useful as bait!"
The laughter hit harder than any weapon could.
It made the air tight.
Made the world feel too small.
I didn't look back.
Why would I?
They weren't laughing because I was weak.
They were laughing because they needed me to be.
So I ran.
Straight into the gate.
Not because I believed I'd come out different.
Not because I thought I was destined.
But because maybe—just maybe—if I died in there,
someone would remember me for a little while.
That was the last thing I owned.
The only power I had left.
As the portal's light wrapped around me, I clenched my fists and whispered—
"It's unfair…"
Then the world twisted, and silence became my only answer.
---
I opened my eyes on cracked stone.
Cold seeped into my lungs, and the air tasted like rusted iron.
Above me, no sky. Only a ceiling stitched from shadow—
Pulsing, breathing, watching.
The torches flickered as if scared of the dark themselves.
This wasn't the kind of dungeon they wrote about.
Not the elegant labyrinths filled with loot and logic.
This place was alive.
The walls throbbed like veins.
The bricks remembered pain.
Then a whisper, synthetic and cold, slid through the darkness like oil:
---
[You have accomplished a dream.]
[You have gained a skill.]
[Loser's Aura]
[Loser's Aura ▸ Rank B] – Only one who long ago stopped caring wears this shroud. No one wants to stand near a loser, not even at the moment of death.
---
The words stabbed deeper than any blade.
I sat up, my breath catching between a laugh and a dry heave.
Of course.
Of course the system gave me a skill that kept everything away.
Everything and everyone.
It fit.
Another window bloomed before my eyes, faintly glowing.
---
Status
Name – #*#@$
Title –
Class –
▸ Stats
Strength – 3 Agility – 5
Mana – 10 Intelligence – 10
Aether – 2 Constitution – 1
▸ Skills
[Dreamer's Soul]
[Loser's Aura]
---
[Dreamer's Soul ▸ Rank F++] – Your dreams float forever out of reach, but your soul keeps chasing. Each dream fulfilled forges a new skill.
F++.
The bottom of every chart.
Even inside a miracle system that hands cheats to nobodies...
I still came out weak.
I forced myself upright.
My head spun, but the fury in my chest kept my knees from buckling.
My name didn't show up in the panel.
A glitch?
Or something worse?
---
A sound broke the stillness—
soft, slithering, sharp.
From the tunnel beyond, something moved.
Then stepped into the flickering torchlight.
A goblin.
Its dagger looked like a broken fang.
Its eyes gleamed with cunning.
Moss-colored skin stretched over wiry muscle.
Rank E, maybe stronger.
Stronger than me on paper.
Stronger than me in truth.
Fear gripped me.
My instinct screamed to run.
But I had nowhere to go.
Nothing left to protect.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
Then—
---
[Passive Skill "Loser's Aura" has activated.]
---
The goblin stopped mid-sprint.
It flinched.
Its pupils shrank. Its shoulders twitched.
A full-body recoil.
Another whisper flashed:
---
[Target's fear rises – Aura effect: Repulsion]
---
It snarled—
But its body backed away like I was poison.
Like I was cursed.
Then it turned and fled into the darkness, howling like it saw its own death reflected in my shadow.
---
I didn't move.
Couldn't.
The adrenaline burned my limbs hollow.
But inside that stillness, something bloomed.
Something jagged.
A realization, raw and bright.
I am not a hero.
I am something worse.
Something this place cannot accept.
A sickness that walks on two legs.
A soul even the system spits out.
A repulsive presence in a world that worships power.
But maybe—just maybe—
that is a kind of power, too.
A curse that walks.
A dreamer that chokes on dust but keeps walking anyway.
Maybe that's enough…
To begin.