Terry opened his eyes. Yep, I’m still in Chinese Period Drama Hell. That’s a disappointment. He winced a little as he sat up. He’d been so emotionally fatigued the night before that he’d just passed out without bothering to take off any of the swords he had tied to his body. Now his back was letting him know that was a damned foolish thing to do. Pushing himself up off the bed, he tried to stretch some of the soreness out of his back as he walked over to the small window and opened it. Cool, morning air rushed into the room, relieving a bit of the stuffiness he hadn’t immediately registered. It was barely dawn. That’s weird, he thought. I was sure I’d sleep until noon. He was more surprised that no one had burst into his room the previous night to stab him in revenge or drag him off to some dungeon.
That gave him a moment of pause. He’d initially pictured a cold cell but… Does this world have LitRPG-style dungeons? It wasn’t really in line with his decision to call this place Chinese Period Drama Hell, but a lot of things in this world didn’t sync up with that name. He wouldn’t be shocked if someone told him there were those kinds of dungeons. If there are monster dungeons in this hellscape, I need to steer clear of those, thought Terry. Nothing good ever happened in a monster dungeon. Going into one was just volunteering for that torturous advancement process he wanted no part of, thank you very damn much. Plus, he hadn’t seen any sign of a LitRPG system to manage skills and advancements. That was a deep relief. Those systems had a bad habit of imposing suicidally dangerous, mandatory quests on the poor underpowered bastards who dealt with them. He could get himself into those situations all by his lonesome, no morally bankrupt system required.
Shaking his head to clear away those thoughts, he closed the window and looked around the room. He hadn’t seen anything like a shower since he arrived, which he took to mean that the unparalleled glory of modern plumbing hadn’t been discovered here, yet. There was an empty basin sitting on a table though. I guess that’ll have to do. Terry filled the basin from a waterskin and proceeded to strip down. He found himself staring down at his own torso. Since when do I have muscle definition? Most programmers he knew fell into one of two categories: skinny and overweight. He’d always leaned to the skinny side and been fitter than most of his coworkers, helped along by regular hiking. But he’d never been ripped or cut or whatever this year’s slang was for someone with low body fat and strong muscle development. He poked at his own chest. Those muscles felt serious and solid. Fantastic. I finally look good with my shirt off, and there’s not a beach or modeling industry eager to exploit me in sight.
After cleaning himself up, he stared at the basin of water, unsure if he should leave it where it was or dump it out the window the way he heard people used to do in old-timey England. Feeling vaguely criminal and keeping an eye out for witnesses, he ultimately dumped the water out the window. That was followed immediately by the outraged yowling of a cat and a hellacious racket as it shot away down the alley, leaping off of things that promptly fell to the ground. Terry hurriedly shut the window and tried to look innocent before he realized that there was no one there to look innocent for. I hate this place, thought Terry before he dressed in some of the new clothes he’d bought and began the tedious process of strapping swords to himself again. He’d have loved to do away with the swords entirely, but recent experience had convinced him that giving up the weapons would just end badly for him.
He sighed and wished he had a toothbrush. He hadn’t seen anything like that in the market. He cautiously breathed into his hand and sniffed. His breath smelled minty.
“Not needing to brush my teeth does not make up for anything,” he muttered to the world at large.
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Glancing around the room, he picked up his pack, shouldered it, and went downstairs to turn in his keys. He was surprised by how many people were there. He saw Remdell sitting with Mira, Tovan, and Hamera and eating breakfast. Remdell nodded at him while simultaneously grabbing Mira’s arm and keeping her at the table. Tovan waved at him. Hamera took one look at him, turned beet red, and refused to meet his eyes. Terry didn’t know if that meant she was going to keep her mouth shut or not. He hoped it did, at least for a while. If he could get a week or two head start on any rumors, he expected he could just disappear and fade into the background somewhere. I might need to make up a name if I really want that disappearing thing to stick, he mused. He paused for a moment as he tried to think of another name he could use and came up blank. He’d never been good at naming things. His handles for video games were always something super-imaginative like TerryWilliams137. I’ll worry about it later. He gave the innkeeper back the key to his room, waved at Remdell and his brood, and went outside.
Terry considered his options. The night before, going back to the Adventurer’s Guild and trying to get something for his trouble had sounded like a good idea. In the cold light of day, though, he wasn’t as sure. It could just turn out to be a waste of his time, and he’d have to actually talk to that woman. Leaving sounded a lot more appealing, but the whole situation just stuck in his craw. No, he decided. She doesn’t get to endanger me like that and get off scot-free. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to extract from her as compensation, but he was going to get something for his trouble. Terry set off for the Adventurer’s Guild with a determined step. His step was less determined after he got lost twice and had to ask people for directions. There was just something about having a ten-year-old boy look at him with infinite pity while explaining how to get somewhere that just took the wind out of Terry’s sails. Minor setback, he told himself. Get your head in the game.
Squaring his shoulders, he marched up the steps to the guild, pulled open the door, and spotted the target of his ire. She noticed him and a quick series of emotions passed over her face. Surprise. Frustration. A touch of guilt. Then, her expression smoothed into the passive neutrality she’d worn the day before. Unlike the day before, there weren’t any other people present. That was probably better for him anyway. He crossed the distance to the bar where she stood.
“So,” he said, “I think we need to have a little conversation.”
“About what?” she asked, trying to put on an air of sweet innocence.
“About how you’re going to repay me.”
“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, very cute. You ran your little spur-of-the-moment Batman Gambit and got what you wanted.”
“What’s a bat-man?” asked the woman, looking genuinely confused.
“Don’t worry about that. The point is that you tricked that fool into doing what you wanted, which I don’t care about. In the process, you made your problem my problem, which I do care about. And since you didn’t just kill the guy yourself, I have to assume he has a father or brother or doting aunt out there that you don’t want to tangle with. Someone who is probably plotting some convoluted revenge scheme as we speak. Is that about the size of things?”
The woman’s face went a little hard at that point.
“Even if what you say is true, I don’t see how any of that is my problem.”
While Terry had never been confident enough to play politics when he’d been working as a programmer in those sweet, sweet days of Before Chinese Period Drama Hell, he had been smart enough to see it happening. Now, stuck in a place where the law of the jungle seemed to be the order of the day, he really didn’t have anything to lose by playing politics here. He was already under threat of death all of the time.
“Because I’ll make it your problem. You might be in charge of this little outpost, but this is a branch office. You answer to people. Much more important people. People that I’m pretty sure will frown on you using someone who came in to do a little simple business to deal with some personal grudge. Minimally, it tarnishes whatever reputation this place has. I’m willing to bet that I can make sure you don’t get a better post any time soon. If I’m very convincing, I might even get you tossed out of the guild entirely. Am I wrong?”