"I don't taste good," I blurt out, immediately hating that this is the sentence my brain chose. Then I tug at my arm—right at the spot I already tortured earlier. Somewhere deep down, I hope I'll wake up.
This would be a great moment for reality to kick back in.
Nothing happens.
So I have to convince the goblin not to eat me. I add more firmly, "There's really nothing on me."
Which isn't entirely true. Mean classmates used to call me chubby. Lissy calls it feminine. I like to say I'm just missing about ten centimeters.
Ugh. My stupid ADHD brain.
I have more important things to deal with right now. Apparently, imminent death is still not enough to make my brain cooperate and focus.
Think. Think. Think.
Nope. Not happening.
Frozen with fear, I point at my arm again—and to my surprise, the creature actually moves its head, tilting it slightly to the side.
Okay. At least I have its attention.
Running away or fighting would probably have been the better option, but I can't fight. Sorry, but the thing is almost as tall as I am—which has a lot to do with the fact that I'm pretty short myself. And running without my glasses is… difficult.
So talking it is.
"Hey, listen, I don't know, but we don't have to do this. I mean, you have a weapon, I don't. You probably live here, I have no idea why I'm here, but yeah—can we maybe skip the stabbing and skewering part and talk like reasonable people? Or, uh, reasonable beings?"
The thing—the goblin—makes a sound that reminds me of a confused pig grunt, and I take that as an invitation to keep going.
How did this work again, when you wanted to convince someone of something? You had to figure out their need. And goblin needs were pretty well known.
"I think what this is really about is—you're probably hungry, right? You're hungry. I get that. I am hungray all the time. But trust me. I am not worth the effort. I don't taste good. I really don't. Look, I'm small, and there's barely anything on me."
Like a lunatic, I start lifting my arms again, poking at myself with my fingers, trying to somehow make it clear to him that there is absolutely nothing delicious about me.
The problem is: if you want someone to change their mind, you have to convince them that there's a better option.
Either a better option for what they could do with me—which is a line of thought I very deliberately do not continue.
Or a better food option.
But how was I supposed to get food here? I'm wearing pajamas.
I freeze.
Because my pajamas have pockets, and my pockets have a reputation.
Some people carry weapons.I carry snacks.
If there's one thing you should know about me: every single one of my pockets contains something edible. Because food calms me down, and, well, I get overstimulated a lot.
Food calms me down.
Food keeps me functional. (Because I get overstimulated a lot.)And apparently, food might save my life.
So while I keep waving one hand around in the air, I slowly move the other toward my pocket.
Unfortunately, the creature notices.
The spear twitches.So does my heartbeat.
With a threatening jab in my direction, it lets out another strange squeal.
Startled, I fling both hands up again to show that I'm not a threat."No, no, I'm giving you something. I don't have anything dangerous. Look—look!"
Carefully, I try again to reach into my pocket, fully expecting it to stop threatening me and just skewer me instead.
But somehow, I actually manage to get my hand into my pants—and thankfully, my fingers close around the object of my desire.
Slowly, making a real effort not to move too fast, I pull my hand back out and hold it out toward the goblin.
A lollipop rests on my palm.
It's small. Ridiculous.And suddenly, it's everything.
I grin at it. No idea if goblins have anything like facial expressions for consent, but I show it the lollipop and say, "Okay, this tastes way better than I do, okay? It's sweet and, uh—yeah. It's really good."
Immediately, an image flashes through my head of the goblin stuffing the lollipop—wrapper and all—into its mouth. From experience, I know that tastes absolutely awful, and what it might do afterward is something I really don't want to think about.
So I pull my hand back again, which earns me another irritated squeak.
Quickly, I fumble with the lollipop. My fingers are shaking so badly that I can barely get the wrapper open—and that's saying something. I eat about three of these a day and am usually very skilled at freeing lollipops from their packaging.
Yes, please don't lecture me about how unhealthy that is. I already know.
When I finally manage it, I show it the thing again and pretend to put it in my mouth."See? You can eat this. Do you want to eat it?" I stammer, holding the lollipop out toward the goblin once more.
And to my absolutely overwhelming surprise, I watch as the creature stretches out its other arm, grabs the lollipop, and yanks it out of my hand with frantic speed.
In the process, I touch its skin.
Warm. Rough. That detail hits harder than it should.
Not nearly as inhuman as I expected. A bit like a hairless cat. My aunt had one.Stop. Focus.
My brain is wandering again.
I yank my hand back to my chest and force myself to stay alert.
Without my glasses, I can't really see what it's doing or whether it has any kind of facial expression, but judging by the smacking sounds, it has actually put the lollipop into its mouth.
And that seems to be the exact moment my body decides to either faint—or wake up.
Black.Then my ceiling.
I'm lying in my bed.
My heart is pounding up into my throat, and I'm freezing. I pull the blanket—apparently kicked off during the nightmare—back over myself, roll onto my side, and try to calm down with slow, deep breaths.
It takes almost an hour before I fall asleep again.
----
Lissy, still speechless, picks up her coffee and downs it in one go. When she sets the cup back on the table, the loud clatter makes me flinch.
"Okay," she says, "are you sure that was a dream?"
I frown. "What else would it have been?" I let out a slightly shrill laugh.
"An awakening," she says slowly.
I glance around hastily, checking if anyone nearby overheard us. Thankfully, despite the café being packed, everyone seems busy with themselves.
"Shh," I hiss. "Don't say shit like that. Awakenings only work with the My-System bands."
"Yeah, but you saw a fucking goblin." Her eyes are wide, staring straight into my soul.
I swallow. "Yeah. In a dream."
Lissy doesn't sound convinced. And honestly—I'm not entirely convinced either.
Because when I got up this morning, I noticed a lot of dirt marks at the foot of my bed.
The sight of it made my stomach drop—dark smears, like the ground itself had followed me home.
I take a deep breath. Earlier, I'd been excited to see how Lissy would react to my dream. Now I'm wondering if I'm just refusing to accept what actually happened.
But the logical part of me insists that it can't be real.
Eleven years ago, the world broke open.Or merged. Depending on which scientist you ask.
I was a kid when the Worldrise happened. Old enough to remember the fear. Too young to understand it.
But since then, the ground beneath our feet hasn't just been ground anymore.
There are access points everywhere. Portals, as we call them. Shimmering clouds of mist that lead into the depths of the earth. And those depths are no longer what we once knew.
Down there lies what everyone simply calls the Labyrinth.
A massive cave system that descends deeper and deeper, inhabited by creatures that used to exist only in myths and legends.
Giant man-eating spiders with thousands of eyes. Goblins—small green beings with pointed ears and sharp teeth. Orcs. And all the rest.
And at the same time this new dimension appeared, humans changed too.
The Labyrinth is permeated by something people still can't quite grasp. We call it mana, borrowing the name from all the books, manga, and stories this whole situation resembles. Mana is a substance that fills the air, the earth, and these monsters. You can feel it on your skin, in the air — yet you can't see it. Can't touch it.
This mana is what separates our dimension from the other one. The world our Earth merged with. And luckily, that other world mostly exists below the surface, which is why the world above still looks the way it does.
But mana also prevents us from entering the depths. It's like a wall — one ordinary humans can't pass through.
Except for the Adapted.
Those whose bodies can absorb mana and have changed because of it. They can pass through the portals into the Labyrinth.
And those people are what we call Hunters.
Not everyone can become a Hunter. And there are far fewer of them than we'd need to truly explore the new world below. And retrieve the bait.
They call it treasure.I call it bait—because something has to make people forget they might die.
Things that awaken greed and lure people down there, even though it's basically a death sentence. For most of them, at least.
And despite that ...
Hunter is currently the number-one dream job, no matter who you ask on the street. Well. Almost everyone.
Definitely not me.
I can't understand what people find so appealing about risking their lives for … what, exactly? Exploring a new world? Making fast money? No. Thanks.
"Yes, nowadays it's done via the My-System," Lissy says slowly. "But," she emphasizes, "eleven years ago, it worked very differently. People stumbled into portals by accident."
I raise an eyebrow. "You're not seriously saying I somehow stumbled into a portal from my bed—and then ended up back in my bed. That makes absolutely no sense. You know I don't sleepwalk."
How would that even be possible?
"Hm," Lissy says. "That's true. There's no logic to it."
She stares into her empty cup, lost in thought.
"But it is strange."
Meanwhile, I think about the dirt stains in my bed and wonder whether I might have sleepwalked after all.
I tell myself it was a dream.The dirt doesn't agree.