Coffi clutched her chest. "Milady, p-please—my mana… it's draining—I can FEEL it."
Henry stumbled. "Keep it away—keep it—Goddess preserve us—"
"Wow," I blinked. "You guys are really allergic to it."
"Allergic?!" Henry choked. "We are DYING!"
I rolled my eyes. "Drama queens."
"I AM A FULL-GROWN SOLDIER," Henry snapped weakly from behind Joff.
"And I'm holding a cursed object like it's a stress ball," I countered. "So who's the weak one now?"
Henry opened his mouth—then fainted.
Just dropped.
BAM. Face-first in the dirt.
Coffi squealed.
"Henry!"
Joff reached to catch him—
then his knees buckled too.
He went down like a sack of potatoes on sale.
Coffi gasped. "Joff!"
Then her eyes rolled back.
Splat.
Down she went like a fainting goat.
I stood there, statue in hand, surrounded by my unconscious entourage.
"…Seriously?" I muttered. "I didn't even DO anything."
So I broke the statue in half.
Then I crouched beside Henry and slapped his cheek gently.
Nothing.
Slapped harder.
Still nothing.
"Henry, if you don't get up, I will steal your boots."
Silence.
I checked Joff.
Nope.
Still sleeping like he owed someone money.
Coffi?
Out cold.
Drooling.
"Okay wow," I sighed. "This group has the survival instinct of boiled vegetables."
So I dragged them, one by one, like oversized lumpy potatoes, and arranged them in a neat little unconscious pile.
Then I plopped myself down at the mine entrance, arms crossed, a broken statue beside me.
And then it happened.
The stones blocking the mine entrance began to move.
Not with dramatic magical explosions.
Not with glitter.
Not with swirling runes.
Just—
grinding stone
low rumble
dust falling like sad snow
The ground trembled as the massive rocks slid aside, revealing a dark tunnel.
"Ohhh, THAT is definitely magic," I whispered. "Minimalist magic. But magic."
The air smelled old.
Dry.
Dead.
Dusty.
The mine yawned open like the mouth of something that should've stayed buried.
I shivered, but also grinned like a gremlin discovering black market treasure.
"I KNEW there was something wrong with this territory," I muttered.
With nothing left to do, I sat there the entire night.
Guarding my fainted potatoes.
Drinking sadness-flavored tea.
Staring into the mine like it might blink back at me.
By dawn, with my dress wrinkled, my hair looking like a crow's nest, my back aching, and my companions still unconscious, I stood at the open mine and muttered:
"Oh yeah. This is DEFINITELY cursed."
I nudged Henry with my foot.
He groaned.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," I said. "We've got a mystery to solve. And possibly a dead territory to un-curse."
Henry blinked awake and softly whispered:
"Milady… please… never touch anything again."
"Lol," I said.
"No promises."
But…
Okay, I might have a little secret.
Earlier, when the three fainted and I had nothing else to do besides poke their unconscious faces and question every life decision that led me here, I decided, why not enter the cursed mine alone? Totally logical. Very main-character energy.
So I grabbed a small lantern that was obviously abandoned by someone who either died, ran away, or simply said, "Nope, not today," and bolted for their life. The lantern flickered like it had trust issues, but it was better than nothing.
And guess what?
Maybe the mine was cursed… or haunted… or full of nightmare fuel. But I didn't see anything suspicious or scary. Not a single ghost, not a wraith, not even a spooky skeleton that rattled at me. Like—what kind of cursed mine doesn't even give me a jump scare? What a scam.
I walked deeper into the tunnels, the air getting colder and the smell getting… old. Ancient basement vibes. Soiled. The walls were carved with old runes, moss pulsing faintly like it was breathing. Dripping water echoed like dramatic sound effects in a horror movie. Honestly the ambiance was trying too hard.
Then I found a passageway that split off from the main tunnel. It was narrow, grimy, and smelled like century-old incense. Naturally, I walked straight into it because I clearly have no survival instinct.
Inside, there was a small dais—like one of those ritual thingies people use for summoning demons, sacrificing goats, or performing questionable wedding vows. I was half-expecting some treasure chest with gold, diamonds, or mana stones—anything sparkly, shiny, or pawning-material.
But instead?
I found a ring.
Yes. A ring.
Not a magical glowing artifact. Not an ancient heirloom that radiates divine power.
A sad-looking ring with a red stone. A pitiful little thing that belonged on a sidewalk sold by a Chinese vendor next to those fake sunglasses and knockoff Power Rangers toys. The kind of ring that turns your finger green if you so much as breathe near a swimming pool.
Really. Nothing worth selling.
But it was cute.
AND shiny.
And I was bored.
So I took it. And wore it.
Because WHY NOT?
Maybe it had magic. Maybe it was cursed. Maybe it was someone's engagement ring and I just stole their heartbreak. I don't know. It fit my finger, so the universe clearly approved.
By the time I returned outside the entrance, the three finally woke up—Coffi, Henry, and Joff—looking like they barely survived a nightmare starring me.
I told them we should venture inside the mine.
They disagreed.
Instantly.
Like I asked them to jump into lava.
Henry: "Milady, absolutely not. The dark magic is too heavy."
Joff: "There are wraiths, rumors say dozens!"
Coffi: "Milady, even the elders forbid it. We could die."
And there I was like:
"You guys fainted because of ONE cursed statue. Please. Grow a spine. Or at least pretend you have one."
They stared at me wide-eyed, as if I was the one who needed therapy.
So we entered the mine.
I told them not to be scared, that the mine was totally fine, but apparently they fear dark magic used in the old days. According to them, wraiths used to roam inside—the souls of miners drained and twisted into monsters. They said the moment mana users got near the curses, their energy would be sucked out like a juice pouch.
Meanwhile me?
Skipping around with a lantern and wearing a cursed ring like it was from Forever 21.
They kept whispering about shadows with teeth, rituals gone wrong, and ancient echoes of screams. Honestly, they made it sound like a horror dungeon from a video game.
But to me?
It was just… dusty.
Creepy, yes.
But survivable.
The mine stretched deep, tunnels branching like spider webs. Rotten wooden beams held up sections of rock that I would NOT trust with my life. The silence was thick—like the mine was holding its breath. Runes glowed faintly on the walls. Old mining tools lay scattered, rusted and forgotten. Small bones—animal, hopefully—were half-buried in the dirt. And the deeper one went, the colder the air became, like walking into a freezer.
If I were anyone else in this realm, I'd be screaming already.
But magic didn't work on me.
Curses didn't work on me.
Dark mana couldn't drain me.
So I simply shrugged.
"Guys, relax. There's nothing scary inside. Unless you count bad interior design."
They did NOT find that helpful.
Coffi clung to Henry. Henry kept glaring at the entrance like it personally offended him. Joff whispered prayers under his breath, dramatic enough to make the gods roll their eyes.
Meanwhile me?
Smiling.
Carrying my emotionally-damaged lantern.
Ready for round two.
But not even two minutes inside the mine—literally, I counted—the three idiots fainted AGAIN.
Like synchronized swimmers but stupider.
Coffi's eyes rolled back first.
Then Henry stumbled like someone unplugged his soul.
And Joff? He did a dramatic gasp and dropped to the ground like a Victorian woman learning her husband gambled away the family fortune.
I just stood there holding my lantern, blinking slowly.
"…Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! We JUST woke up from the last fainting session!"
It was at this point I realized that if anyone ever wrote a book about my life, it would be in the comedy section.
I sighed the sigh of someone who regretted every life decision that led to this moment, cracked my neck, and prepared myself for the workout of the century.
Because guess who had to carry them out?