Look, I'm not proud of this.
Most normal people, upon discovering that a possibly-sentient dungeon is grocery shopping in their store at 1 a.m., would… I don't know... call a priest?
Report it to the Adventurer's Guild?
Install better locks?
Me? I grabbed my flashlight, a half-empty bag of beef jerky and followed it.
The air inside Floor One is always... damp. Not the good "spa mist" kind of damp. The something died here three weeks ago and no one cleaned it up kind of damp.
The basket floated ahead of me at a polite, steady pace, like it knew I was following, but didn't care.
Which was both comforting and terrifying.
We passed a slime pit.
Three slimes were bouncing in slow motion, wearing… scarves?
I tried not to look.
Further in, we passed a group of goblins sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows.
One of them waved.
I waved back.
At this point, I'm starting to think the real dungeon is just a weird village I was never invited to.
Finally, the basket turned a corner and stopped in front of a door.
A perfectly normal, wooden door.
With a doormat.
The doormat said.
WELCOME, PLEASE REMOVE SHOES.
I just... stood there.
"Okay, no. What is this?"
The basket floated through the door like it wasn't even there.
I hesitated for maybe three seconds before curiosity won.
Inside was a kitchen.
Not a dungeon kitchen.
Not a creepy alchemy lab.
A cozy, human-sized kitchen. Pots, pans, a kettle on the stove and a fridge plastered with magnets shaped like miniature battle axes.
And in the middle of the room... a figure.
It was tall.
Humanoid.
Wearing an apron that said: KISS THE COOK.
It turned to look at me. Its face was shadowy, like smoke in the shape of a person, but its voice was surprisingly... normal.
"Oh! You must be Hanseok. Thanks for the snacks. I'm the Dungeon."
I stared. "...The... what?"
"The Dungeon" it repeated cheerfully, unloading the basket onto the counter.
"I've been meaning to introduce myself, but I'm not great with... you know, first impressions. Last time I tried, someone screamed and threw a spear at me."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"...Why do you have a kitchen?"
"Because" the Dungeon said, very seriously, "adventuring is hard work and sometimes I just want a hot meal."
It paused, then added, "Also, you're the only store that sells those squid jerky packs I like."
I was too stunned to argue.
So that's how I ended up sitting at the Dungeon's kitchen table at 2 a.m. drinking tea and talking about bulk snack discounts with a shadowy, apron-wearing entity that technically murders people for a living.
Before I left, the Dungeon handed me a bag of coins. "Consider this… a membership fee. I'd like to sign up for your loyalty program."
And just like that, I officially had a Platinum Member Dungeon.