"You can call me Sael," they said.

  "Sael," I repeated.

  "Yes."

  "Just Sael?"

  "Just Sael."

  "Okay," I said. "Just Daniel."

  They looked at my name tag.

  "I know," Sael said.

  I placed my forearm on the table.

  The mark caught the light. It wasn't glowing, but something about it drew your eye and held it there. It felt wrong, like a sentence that doesn't end right.

  Sael looked at it, then at me.

  "You want to know what you've gotten into," they said.

  "I want to know what I've gotten into," I agreed.

  Sael picked up their cup, stared into it for a moment, then set it down.

  "Alright," they said. "Let's start with the woman who came in earlier. Her name is Isolde Vauclair."

  "She’s the guild leader?" I said.

  Sael tilted their head slightly. "We don't call it that."

  "What do you call it?"

  "Nothing. We haven't named it."

  A pause.

  "The organization." I said.

  "It's not — yes. The organization. We have not named it."

  The hare's ears moved. "WHY HASN'T IT BEEN NAMED?"

  "Because… I don’t know."

  "So you're all just... here," I said. "Together. Without a name. Doing things."

  "Yes."

  I thought about this. "That's either very smart or completely crazy."

  "Both, usually," Sael said. "That's why it works." They paused. "Anyway—Isolde leads. Loosely."

  "Loosely?"

  "She makes the big decisions. She doesn't control what everyone does every day — that would ruin the point." A pause. "It's more like... everyone understands each other."

  "Understands what?"

  "That we help each other."

  The hare's nose twitched. "THAT SOUNDS LIKE HOW EVERY BAD DEAL IN HISTORY STARTS."

  "It often is," Sael agreed, unconcerned.

  The goal, Sael explained, was simple. It was one of the easier goals I'd heard in Hell, which wasn't saying much.

  They wanted to go deeper.

  Gold. Experience. Items. Everything pointed to the same goal: better gear, higher levels, better chances of surviving the lower floors. Everyone in this room wanted the same thing.

  "The lower floors have better everything," Sael said. "Better materials. Better equipment. Stronger creatures, which means more experience, which means you can survive the lower floors. It's a cycle."

  "And to get there faster," I said, "you take jobs."

  "Any job that pays. Fighting, finding things, scouting, gathering information. If there's gold at the end, someone here will do it."

  I thought about the compass. The mall. Kevin in his stockroom.

  "The Crystal Chest," I said.

  "Was a job to retrieve something," Sael confirmed. "The chest was in a known spot. The dungeon was within our range. The seal inside—" They glanced at my arm. "—was less important."

  "Less important to who?"

  Sael's amber eyes looked up at me.

  "To the person who gave us the job," they said.

  A short, meaningful silence.

  "Isolde," I said.

  "She needed the seal," Sael said. "A dungeon below us needs it to open. She hasn't told most of us the details. We don't know what's in the dungeon. We just know she wants to open it, and the seal was the key."

  "But the seal's in me now," I said.

  "Yes."

  "Which makes me—"

  "The key," Sael said.

  The hare pressed both ears flat against its head.

  Mira's talons tightened on the table edge slightly.

  Sael picked up their cup. "It means whatever the dungeon needs, whatever the seal was supposed to do, it now does through you. Probably. I don't know the exact details." They took a sip. "Seals are complicated."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "I've noticed," I said.

  "You're part of this now," Sael said. "The seal is in you. Isolde is interested in you. That means we're interested in you, and what you do affects us. It doesn't matter whether you want it or not."

  "Great," I said.

  "Part of what you earn comes back to the group," Sael continued. "Gold, items, anything valuable. It's a contribution. Not a tax — nobody checks the exact amount. You're just expected to contribute your fair share."

  I looked at them.

  "Ten gold," Sael said. "You keep eight."

  "Two out of ten."

  "Twenty percent. About that." Sael tilted their head. "It's flexible. If you earn five, you give one. If you finish a dungeon and get items, at least one comes back."

  "At least one," I said.

  "More if you did really well."

  "What if I gave nothing?" I asked.

  Sael looked at me steadily.

  "Nobody gives nothing for long," they said. "It's not enforced by rules. It's enforced by the fact that we're stronger together than alone. That stops being true if someone takes more than they give." A pause. "What happens then isn't official. It just happens naturally."

  "Naturally." I repeated.

  "People talk," Sael said. "People notice. People stop helping. And then—" They shrugged, their tail curling around the chair leg. "And then things get harder. For the person who didn't contribute."

  The hare leaned toward me slightly and said quietly, "I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE DESCRIBING A VERY ORGANIZED WAY TO FREEZE SOMEONE OUT."

  "Yeah," I said quietly. "That's what I'm getting too."

  I looked at the mark on my arm. Then at Sael.

  "Okay," I said. "Twenty percent."

  Sael nodded once.

  "Or about that," I said.

  "Or about that," they agreed.

  Suddenly, the snow leopard walked across the room.

  He stopped at our table.

  He looked at Sael. Then at me.

  I looked back at him.

  There was a pause.

  "I want my gold back," he said.

  "How much?" I said.

  "All of it," he said. "One thousand."

  "I got the chest," I said. "That was the job. The job you gave me was specifically to retrieve the chest."

  "The seal was supposed to come back to us. It didn't."

  "That's not what the job was," I said. "You said retrieve the chest. I retrieved the chest."

  His eyes didn't move from mine.

  "Don't push your luck," he said quietly. "Give me the gold."

  I looked at him.

  He looked at me.

  The hare looked at both of us.

  Kitten Cowboy's ears turned on the shelf, like tiny fuzzy antennas pointing toward us.

  I opened my inventory.

  The gold came out in a pouch that felt heavier than it looked, which was the only thing I liked about gold. Nine hundred and forty-five coins.

  Nine hundred and forty-five.

  The snow leopard looked at it.

  "That's not a thousand," he said.

  "I spent fifty-five."

  "…"

  "I had expenses."

  He stared at me. Not angrily. He was past angry, or maybe he'd never gotten there — he'd gone somewhere colder instead.

  "I could give you the nine forty-five," I said, "but I have another idea."

  "There is no other idea."

  "Hear me out."

  "No."

  "A partial credit—"

  "No."

  "An I-owe-you—"

  "No."

  "Please."

  “No.”

  The snow leopard turned his back.

  He started walking away.

  I looked down at my hand, expecting to still be holding the pouch.

  I wasn't.

  My hand was holding something else entirely.

  It was a carved figure. A tiny leopard.

  I looked up.

  He was walking across the room, tossing the coin pouch in one hand as he went. The pouch made a satisfying metallic sound each time it hit his palm.

  The hare looked at me.

  "THAT," it said, "COULD HAVE GONE WORSE."

  "Yeah," I said.

  I put my arm back on the table and looked at the mark.

  The lamp above us moved slightly. The light crossed the mark slowly, and when it hit the edges just right, the gap at the bottom — the broken part that wanted to close — seemed darker than the rest. Or brighter. I couldn't tell.

  The mark didn't help.

  Sael was watching me look at it.

  "You have more questions," they said.

  "I always have more questions," I said.

  "Then ask them."

  I looked up from the mark and around the room.

  "What's Sir Hiss-a-lot's problem anyway?" I said, nodding toward the snow leopard across the room.

  Sael's whiskers twitched.

  Then they smiled — briefly, but unmistakably.

  "His name is Edmund." They picked up their cup again. "He's been with this group much longer than I have. Years longer. He takes orders directly from Isolde. Most of us work through intermediaries or just take jobs as they come. Edmund doesn't. If Isolde needs something done, and it matters, she sends him."

  I looked across the room at Edmund who was now leaning against the far wall, still tossing my coin pouch.

  "So he's upset because I complicated her plan," I said.

  "He's upset because you exist," Sael said. "The seal was supposed to come back clean. It didn't. Now the plan involves you, and Edmund doesn't like variables."

  "Great."

  "He'll get over it," Sael said. "Or he won't. Either way, you're here now."

  "What," I said, "does Isolde actually need the dungeon opened for?"

  Sael was quiet for a moment.

  "That," they said, "is one of the questions she hasn't answered."

  "But she has a reason."

  "She always has a reason," Sael said. "Whether she tells us is another thing."

  "And until she does?"

  Sael shrugged. "We do our jobs. We contribute. We go deeper, slowly, and try not to die."

  I looked at Sael.

  "How do I get to the third floor?" I asked.

  Sael set their cup down and tilted their head slightly.

  "You teleport," they said. "Through the System. The System handles all vertical movement between floors. You can't just walk down—the entrances are sealed unless you're cleared for them. But once you've unlocked a floor, you can teleport to it whenever you want."

  "How?"

  "Just call up the System interface and select the floor. Say 'help' and it'll show you the commands."

  I blinked. "Help?"

  A notification appeared in my vision immediately.

  SYSTEM COMMANDS AVAILABLE: [STATUS] - View character status [INVENTORY] - View inventory [MAP] - View current floor map [TELEPORT] - Access teleportation menu [QUESTS] - View active quests [PARTY] - Manage party settings [HELP] - Display this menu

  "Huh," I said. "That' actually helpful."

  "The System's not complicated," Sael said. "It just doesn't explain itself unless you ask."

  I looked at the teleport option.

  "So I can just… go to the third floor? Right now?"

  "Yes." Sael paused. "And you'll need gold."

  "Gold?"

  "Teleportation costs gold. The deeper you go, the more it costs. First floor to second floor is cheap. Second to third, less so. It scales."

  "How much?"

  "Depends on distance and destination. Usually between ten and fifty gold per jump. Sometimes more if you're crossing multiple floors."

  I stared at them.

  Sael's tail flicked once. "Hallow Kingdom acts as a hub. You can teleport back here from any waypoint on any floor. Same cost. It's useful if you need to resupply, trade, or get out of a bad situation."

  "So this place is… safe?"

  "Safer," Sael corrected. "Nothing's completely safe. But Hallow Kingdom has rules. No combat inside city limits. Break those and the city guard deals with you. They're level Fifty. Minimum."

  "Good to know."

  "You can return here anytime you want," Sael continued. "As long as you have the gold to pay for it. Most people keep a reserve just for emergency teleports. Fifty gold minimum. More if you're going deep."

  I nodded slowly, processing.

  "How far down have you been?" I asked.

  Sael looked at me for a moment.

  "Fourth floor," they said.

  "Fourth?"

  "Yes. That's my current limit. I can handle the enemies there, but anything deeper gets exponentially harder. The gap between floor four and floor five is… significant."

  "How significant?"

  "Significant enough that most people stay on four forever."

  I looked down at my arm again. At the mark.

  "And Isolde?"

  Sael's ears flattened slightly.

  "Isolde has reached the eighth floor," they said quietly.

  "That's…"

  "Far," Sael said. "Very far.”

  I sat back in my chair.

  Sael picked up their cup and drained the rest of it.

  "You should rest," they said. "Get your bearings. Learn the System commands. Maybe earn some gold before you try going deeper."

  "How do I earn gold?"

  "Jobs. Quests. Dungeon runs. Killing things that drop loot. The usual." Sael stood, their staff clicking against the floor. "You'll figure it out. Most people do, or they die trying."

  "Inspiring."

  Sael's whiskers twitched again—almost a smile.

  "You survived this long," they said. "That's more than most can say."

  They turned and walked toward the far side of the room, their tail swaying slightly behind them.

  I stayed seated.

  The hare looked up at me.

  "SO," it said. "WHAT NOW?"

  "Now," I said, looking at the mark on my arm, "we earn some gold."