Do you know the feelings of someone dropped into another world without a single coin to their name?
"A single room is seven silver coins. Lodging is ten."
"What? Why is it so damn expensive?"
"Where else in Valerus can you find an inn this cheap? If you don't like it, look somewhere else."
This was already the eighth rejection.
From dusk onward, he'd been wandering in search of a place to stay, but as dark night fell, he still hadn't found an inn.
The reason was obvious: no money.
All he had in his pocket was barely four silver coins.
If only I had those goblin ears, I could've exchanged them at the Explorer's Union.
But Kakchi, who had been carrying the bag full of goblin ears, hadn't been seen since they crossed the escape portal.
She'd probably seized the chance and bolted.
Anyway, that left him nearly penniless.
Night deepened relentlessly, and he still hadn't found a spot to escape the cold for even one evening.
"...By the way, you're wearing that weird helmet, but you've got a fine body. How about five silver for a bed?"
Thwack! Thwack!
The rotund innkeeper woman—easily sporting a BMI over 45—formed a ring with her left hand and jabbed her right middle finger through it repeatedly.
The universal signal for put out and get a discount. How could eight inns react the exact same way?
In the past half day alone, he'd fielded dozens of sexual innuendos and propositions.
If this was already the case, how outlandish would the ones ahead be? Dread started to build.
"Innkeeper. Imagine if you suddenly became a man and replay that last remark. How do you think I feel right now?"
"You little shit—"
"The fact that you jump straight to insults shows you know damn well how serious your body's condition is. You think any man with normal tastes would be interested in that hunk of yours? Greed for money is why you've piled on all that blubber! You pig!"
"Stop right there, you bastard!"
Her face flushed crimson with rage as she chased him, but he shook her off and wandered blankly down the darkened street.
Maybe because of the hour, most shops had shuttered their doors. Hardly anyone roamed the streets.
It wasn't long before he got lost. Not surprising—he didn't know the way around.
From a positive angle, he wasn't lost; he was in the process of learning the streets.
Guess I have to ask the guards again and hunt for cheap inns...
The thought of starting over made his head throb.
After escaping that perilous labyrinth, everyday life was tripping him up. Even a peaceful night's sleep wasn't easy.
While searching for a lit inn, he stumbled upon a curious sight.
In a dim alley between buildings, a hazy lantern glowed over a huddled group.
Why were they gathered in such a dark, hidden spot?
The lantern light revealed them frozen like mice, utterly still.
"...Why are those people just sitting there like that?"
He asked a passing guard.
The female guard eyed him irritably, scanned his upper body, then cleared her throat abruptly.
"Beggars. Vermin you find everywhere in Labyrinth City. Limbless explorers, bankrupt merchants, debtors who couldn't pay up. Each with their own reasons for ending up on the streets."
Ah, so they were homeless beggars.
"You don't round them up?"
"No need to bother with worthless trash dying off one by one without the will to live. If they were out in the open, we'd step in, but they're smart enough to huddle in the shadows where they're less revolting. Oh, we do clear the corpses, so no worries there. Say, haven't I seen you around somewhere—"
He ignored her flirtatious pivot and pondered.
Sleeping rough isn't so bad.
Better than sleeping alone and getting jumped. This wasn't the labyrinth—who'd try anything with a group around?
He'd craved a comfy inn bed after his labyrinth ordeal, but reality said no.
Time to compromise.
He finally shook off the clingy guard and stepped into the shadowed alley.
About six beggars.
A faint stench hit as he neared— the smell of the unwashed after too long.
Similar-looking bowls and utensils lay around them. At least they ate.
A few eyes turned his way. Too dark to read expressions.
But he sensed slight surprise.
People jolt awake at footsteps when sleeping nearby. He shrugged it off.
"Sorry for waking you. Mind if I crash here for the night? Go back to sleep."
"Uh... y-yeah... sure."
They stammered awkward permission, so he picked a spot a bit away and lay down.
The hard dirt ground scratched his bare skin with grit and pebbles.
It grated on his nerves, but he endured.
Imagining luxury mattresses as a tycoon failed; the discomfort kept sleep at bay.
Picturing a cheap stone bed he might've bought helped, and drowsiness soon crept in.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Rustle. Rustle.
"Hah... hah... Walking right into our laps to satisfy our urges. A real angel, huh."
"Tell me about it. Was gonna grab someone tomorrow to fuck, but looks like I don't have to."
"That helmet bugs me, though. Someone peel it off."
Cheap talk and the familiar sound of pants being tugged woke him.
You idiots. Trusted people too easily again.
Just the other day, he'd bitten at kindness and nearly gotten brained and raped.
Why repeat the naive mistake, worn down by fatigue?
—This isn't the labyrinth, who'd try anything? Better than sleeping solo and risking danger?
Nam Sujin. Did you take a bullet to the head?
That snap decision was pure folly.
Snap out of it. Why else would they end up on these streets?
Mentally or physically defective, unable to earn, shoved to society's dark corners.
Filthy, reeking wretches in sunless shadows—had they even satisfied basic urges properly?
What made him approach? Baseless trust? Human affection? Goodwill?
Face reality. He knew from hard labor gigs: no one gives a shit.
A few lucky breaks solving scrapes bred false confidence?
Snap out of it.
He had only his body now—his sole lifeline and hope. Guard it, use it wisely.
"Now back the fuck off, you shits."
Politeness tossed. They didn't deserve it.
"Wh-what...? He's awake!"
"Hey! Quick, grab his arms and—Gahk!"
He smashed his fist into the jaw of the one barking orders.
Crack!
Taunt-wound muscles from the shitty bed stretched like waking, accelerating the punch.
Square to the jaw, the guy flipped his eyes back and dropped unconscious.
"Whoa, Wangcho down in one hit...?"
"...Impossible. Wangcho reached the deepest part of Labyrinth Floor 1...!"
One punch shifted the air.
Glancing around, disbelief hung thick.
"Y-you bastard—!"
The one charging blindly for a hug got ducked, head slipping the grab.
Smack!
Temple shot next; he faceplanted with his momentum, out cold.
"..."
The mood shattered. Pallid beggars trembled, backing away.
He stared them down.
"Anyone else wanna try?"
"N-no!"
Desperate to live, instant reply. Their groveling killed his urge to hit more, leaving only emptiness.
"Take your shitheads and fuck off. Cross my path again, you're dead."
They hoisted the unconscious pair and fled.
Probably to cower in another alley like rats. Hope so.
"Life. Fuck."
Yeah, life was fucked. Most lives were, but was anyone's as shitty as his?
"...Just sleep."
No point dwelling on negativity.
But remember today's lesson, use it as fertilizer to grow wiser. Never repeat.
Eyes shut, sleep crashed over him.
Exhausted.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Clack. Clack.
Fuck. More bullshit. Come for revenge with backup?
No. Just one set of footsteps?
Maybe the beggar boss herself. Stay alert.
Hand inching to his waist axe, he eyed the approaching figure.
"Ah... s-sorry. Did I wake you...?"
Not the thug vibe he expected.
She looked nothing like a beggar.
Gleaming black hair, well-kept, caught the moonlight, side-swept style oozing elegance and grace.
Flawless pale skin, sly half-lidded eyes brimming with allure—enough to enchant the world.
Whoa. Those tits...
But the real shock: massive, perfectly shaped breasts straining her top.
H? No, I...? Unprecedented size; no clue.
Tight dress hugged her curves, amplifying chest and figure—vulgar contrast to her refined air.
Beautiful, flat-out. First woman this stunning since his sister.
Harmless vibe and groomed beauty ruled out beggar boss.
But people were unpredictable. Experience had drilled that in brutally.
"Who are you? State your business."
Axe now drawn, pointed at the mystery woman.
"Hm...?"
Her gaze flicked to the axe, then she spoke.
"I'm Diana Ordia. I run an inn called Cozy Winter Night next door."
Diana extended something in her hand. Distracted by her looks, he registered it late.
"...Soup?"
A bowl, steaming warmly, thick with chunks—mouthwatering at a glance.
His stomach growled loudly.
He clutched it quick; Diana smiled warmly.
"Nights in Valerus get cold. Warm soup should help."
Yeah, warm for sure. Too warm—sleep would come fast, like laced with a sedative.
Soup drugged with sleeping potion? Just yesterday.
Bitter memory resurfaced; he opened his mouth slowly.