I thought business banquets were supposed to be boring.
You know, bad buffet food, long speeches, everyone pretending to care about a new company logo.
Instead, this one felt like someone had spiked the punch bowl with concentrated madness and let it ferment for a century.
The banquet hall was massive, chandeliers glowing with floating fire spirits, tables stacked with foods I couldn't even identify (one of which tried to crawl away before a waiter stabbed it back into place).
Music played in the background, something between opera and a dragon roaring into a microphone.
Mirae stood next to me, hands folded, scanning the room like she was guarding the president. Spicy was trying to eat the decorations.
And me? I was wondering if faking food poisoning would be a socially acceptable way to leave.
No chance. Vellario, the rhinestone maniac, had already spotted me.
"Colleagues!" Vellario cried, jumping onto a table. "Welcome to this year's Annual Dungeon Shopkeepers Banquet!"
Everyone clapped politely.
Mirae did not.
I definitely did not.
"Tonight" he continued, "we eat, we drink, and we celebrate... but most importantly, we compete!"
The entire hall shifted. I swear even the chandeliers leaned in.
Compete?
Dungeon appeared behind me, whispering in my ear like a smug ghost. "Ah, yes. I forgot to mention this part."
I choked on my soda. "Forgot?!"
"Tradition" he said with a shrug.
"Shopkeepers challenge one another during the banquet. Harmless games, sometimes. Other times... not so harmless."
"Great. Perfect. Totally fine" I muttered, gripping my glass like it was a lifeline.
The first challenge was simple: a drinking contest.
Boris, the greasy barbecue man, raised a mug bigger than my head.
"Oi! Who'll match me?"
Half the shopkeepers joined him. I... did not. Mirae physically held me back by my sleeve.
But Spicy? He leapt onto the table, grabbed a shot glass with both paws, and yelled: "SPICY DRINK!"
The room erupted in laughter.
"Your familiar challenges me?" Boris roared.
Spicy nodded furiously and downed the shot. He immediately coughed, sneezed fire and rolled across the table like a flaming meatball.
The goblins in the back started chanting.
"Spicy! Spicy! Spicy!"
Boris slammed his mug down.
"Hah! A worthy opponent, little fire rat!"
Mirae whispered, "He's going to die."
Dungeon shrugged. "Eh, he'll learn."
Next, Boris proposed a cooking competition.
"Cook something! Best dish wins!"
I don't cook.
I microwave.
But before I could panic, Mirae shoved me forward.
"He accepts."
"WHAT?!"
The goblins were already hauling ingredients onto the counter. I stared at the pile of... whatever.
Something green, something purple, and something that was definitely moving.
"This is how I die" I muttered.
Spicy hopped onto the counter.
"Papa cook! Papa cook!"
So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I made cup ramen.
The other shopkeepers were flambéing wyvern tails, sautéing hydra meat, and carving roast chimera.
And me? I boiled water and opened a lid.
When the judging came, Boris looked insulted. Selena (poison woman) sniffed my ramen with disdain.
Then Vellario slurped a noodle. His mustache twitched. His eyes widened.
"...Simple. Humble. But... oddly comforting."
Mirae folded her arms proudly.
"He does that every day."
Boris looked like he'd just been slapped with a ladle.
Vellario was next. He pulled out a pair of giant dice covered in glowing runes.
"Game of chance!" he declared.
"Winner gets bragging rights, loser... well, let's just say the dice have a sense of humor."
I didn't want to play. Which is why the goblins shoved me into the circle before I could protest.
"ROLL! ROLL! ROLL!" they chanted.
I tossed the dice. They glowed, spun, and landed on... Snake Eyes.
The room went quiet.
Vellario cackled.
"Unlucky! The punishment: public embarrassment!"
Suddenly, the dice exploded into light and projected a glowing hologram of me... dancing. Badly.
The entire hall erupted in laughter. Mirae covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. Even Dungeon chuckled.
"Delete this" I muttered.
Selena smirked. "No. I like this."
As the games wound down, the atmosphere shifted. The jokes turned sharper, the laughter darker. Rival shopkeepers leaned close with smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
Vellario whispered, "Careful, boy. Win too much and someone might not let you leave."
Selena brushed past, muttering, "Every antidote has its limit. Remember that."
Boris grinned, clapping me on the back. "You'd make good barbecue, convenience man."
Even their dungeons stared at me like they were sizing me up.
I tried to laugh it off, but the truth pressed on me like a weight: this wasn't just competition. This was war, dressed up in banquet clothes.
By the time the banquet ended, I was exhausted. Mirae dragged me out before I collapsed. Spicy waddled behind us, hiccuping sparks. The goblins sang victory songs off-key.
Outside, under the eerie night sky, I finally let out a breath.
"That" I said, "was the most stressful meal of my life."
Dungeon appeared, smirking.
"And that was just the banquet. Wait until tomorrow's conference."
I nearly fainted.