Her hand on my thigh moves higher.
That breaks the spell.
I shoot to my feet so fast my chair scrapes loudly across the floor, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the tavern.
Several people look over at us.
"No!" I say, too loud. "No, thank you. I'm—I'm fine. I don't need—"
"Are you sure?" she asks, looking up at me with an expression of mock innocence. "I could show you such a good time. Upstairs. Just the two of us. I have a room."
She uncrosses her legs and recrosses them the other way, the motion slow and tempting.
The dress shifts, and for a moment I see even more—the curve of her hip, the edge of her underwear, red lace against pale skin.
"Very sure," I say, my voice cracking slightly.
"Your food's ready!"
The bartender's voice cuts through my panic.
I don't think. I just react.
I lunge past the woman in red, practically throwing myself toward the bar. The bartender is emerging from the back room, carrying a wooden bowl of stew and a chunk of bread wrapped in cloth.
I grab them from her hands before she can even set them down.
"Hey!" she shouts. "What are you—"
But I'm already moving, heading for the door as fast as I can without actually running.
Behind me, I hear that laugh again. The woman's laugh, rich and amused.
"Come back anytime," she calls after me. "I'll be here."
I don't look back. I push through the door and out into the street, the cool air hitting my flushed face like a slap.
I don't stop moving until I'm deep in the maze of back alleys, far from the main streets, far from that tavern, far from her.
My heart is hammering. My hands are shaking so badly that the stew is sloshing in the bowl. I'm clutching the wrapped bread against my chest like it's a lifeline.
Finally, I can't go any further. My legs feel like jelly. I need to stop.
I find myself in a narrow alley between two tall buildings.
It's quiet here. Secluded.
The buildings block out most of the afternoon sun, casting the alley in shadow. There's trash scattered around—broken crates, old rags, something that might have been a barrel once.
I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the cold cobblestones, my back pressed against rough stone.
The bowl is still in my hands. The bread is still clutched against my chest.
And I realize I'm shaking. Actually shaking.
For the first time since I arrived in this nightmare, I feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes.
This is too much.
All of it. It's too fucking much.
A little girl who stabs travelers for fun. A blacksmith who nearly killed me for asking about prices.
A prostitute who lures people to their deaths.
And that's just today. Just one day in this insane world.
I think about my apartment back home.
My small, cramped, kind of depressing apartment. My desk with the monitor. My bed with the unwashed sheets. My fridge with the instant ramen and beer.
God, I took it all for granted.
I could wake up whenever I wanted.
Eat whatever I wanted.
Spend all day gaming if I felt like it.
The worst thing that could happen was failing a class or running out of money for rent.
But here? Here, everything is trying to kill me. Everything.
This world is a hell hole.
An actual, literal hell hole.
And I'm trapped here. Forced to play this insane game by a goddess who thinks my suffering is entertainment.
I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, angry at myself for crying.
"Get it together," I mutter. "You're alive. You escaped. That's what matters."
I look down at the bowl of stew in my hands. It's still warm. Steam rises from the surface. I can see chunks of meat and vegetables in a thick brown broth.
And the bread—I unwrap it from the cloth. It's fresh, still slightly warm from the oven. It smells good. Really good.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything all day. That I'm hungry. Starving, actually.
I need to eat. I need my strength for whatever comes next. For hauling ore with Renna. For eventually getting a weapon and facing that rabbit.
I tear off a piece of bread and dip it into the stew.
It tastes amazing.
Rich and savory, with herbs I don't recognize. The meat is tender, practically falling apart. The vegetables are soft. The broth is thick and flavorful.
I eat another piece. And another.
God, this is good. Better than anything I've had in... I don't even know how long. My body is screaming for this, for calories, for energy.
I start eating faster, shoveling bread into my mouth, scooping up stew with the bread, chewing quickly, swallowing.
I'm halfway through the bowl when I start to feel it.
...
A strange sensation in my stomach. Not quite pain, but... wrong.
Off.
I pause, the next piece of bread halfway to my mouth.
The sensation grows. A tightness. A cramping. Like something inside me is twisting.
"What..." I start to say, but my voice comes out weak.
The bowl slips from my fingers, clattering to the cobblestones. Stew spills across the ground.
The pain intensifies. Sharp now. Stabbing. My stomach feels like it's being torn apart from the inside.
I double over, gasping. My hands clutch at my abdomen, fingers digging into my hoodie.
Something's wrong.
Something's really wrong.
The pain spreads, radiating outward from my stomach to my chest, my throat, my limbs.
It feels like fire. Like acid eating away at my insides.
I try to breathe, but my lungs won't cooperate. Each breath is shallow, painful.
And then I taste it.
Blood.
The metallic taste fills my mouth, coating my tongue, my teeth.
I cough, and red sprays from my lips, spattering across the cobblestones in front of me.
No.
No, no, no.
The food.
The food was poisoned.
Of course it was. Of course it FUCKING was.
Everything here is trying to kill me.
Everything.
Cough
I cough again, harder this time. More blood. So much blood. It pours from my mouth, hot and wet, staining my hoodie, pooling on the ground.
I can't breathe. Can't think. The pain is overwhelming, consuming everything.
I slump against the wall, my vision starting to blur.
Is this really how I die?
Poisoned in an alley?
My body convulses. Another cough. More blood.
I can feel myself fading.
The pain is distant now, replaced by a cold numbness that spreads from my core outward.
My last thought is absurdly bitter:
I survived a child, a blacksmith, and a prostitute.
But I couldn't survive lunch.
The world goes dark.