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I thought a few hours passed, but I wasn’t sure; it was hard to tell the time there, and it felt even shorter while meditating, so it could have been more.

In the end, while I came out of my meditation feeling refreshed, I couldn’t grasp that thing. My mind didn’t seem to be capable of reaching out of my body, which shouldn't have been that strange after all.

I wasn’t sure what to call that feeling, maybe it was the ambient mana, maybe something else, or maybe just my imagination – solitude didn’t help sanity after all.

And it also didn't matter much. Even if I managed to do something with it, I doubted it would help me escape from the dungeon.

It was a nice pastime, though, so I kept trying anyway.

Looking around for the other guy, I found him kneeling where he was before, praying with something in his hand; it was probably one of his church's trinkets.

I hope he’s not one of those annoying religious types. They could be fun to mess with, but they were also extremely annoying. I wanted to be friendly, though, so I had to hold back a bit… just a bit.

Right as I was about to call out to him, I heard a sound coming toward us, and so did he, since he opened his eyes; it seemed he wasn’t that deep into it.

“Hey there, how did the chat with your god go?” I asked when he looked at me — he didn't answer.

In the meantime, the sound came closer. I wonder what's coming.

Soon after, I found out. From the corridor came an old man with a food cart; I didn’t even look at him properly, as the cart took all my attention. I believed my hunger couldn’t get worse – I was wrong. The need to eat felt almost overwhelming. Who was the idiot who said you wouldn’t feel it after a few days of fasting?

Maybe it was because I didn't fast, I just ate a minuscule amount of food, so it could have been that... but damn.

“Greetings sir. I have brought your lunch,” said the old man after stopping in front of us.

“Bring it inside,” responded the boy.

I watched with my hands grabbing the bars. It was like I was trying to twist them open – I was so enthralled that I almost didn’t notice when I stood up. He took out the keys and opened the door, bringing the tray inside. The young noble went to wash his hands with the water flowing down in the back while the servant took out the dishes. No dish, but dishes. Plural. Because there were many.

The boy ate without saying anything. I couldn’t see what he was eating from my cell, but it smelled amazing.

I lifted my gaze to the old man who was waiting at the side of the tray like a scarecrow. Finally, I saw the clothes and how well-groomed he was. I didn’t know what kind of game they were playing there, but if their plan was to mimic the life of a gladiator, they were doing a piss poor job.

“Where’s my food?” I asked the servant. He didn’t answer me. “Hey!”

“Answer his question,” said the guy without lifting his gaze.

“I haven’t received any other instruction, sir,” the servant responded, without even moving his gaze.

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“Fuck.” I kind of expected that. It didn’t help with my hunger, though; I’d have to wait until evening again.

With an almost inhumane show of will, I went to the back of the cell where the smell was a little less overpowering, and drank from the water flowing down from the groove in the wall, hoping to somehow quiet down my stomach.

Instead of continuing to suffer, I decided to meditate; it was a bit hard to enter the right mindset, but I managed.

When I woke up I confirmed that the smell was nearly gone; there was still a faint whiff of it but most of it was gone. The pampered kid got back to his prayers; he really had a lot to say to his god.

“Hey, boy!” I shouted.

“What?” he growled out, opening his eyes.

“I wanted to ask… by the way, what’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“Fine brat, I will give you one then. I’m good at it,” I said with a sagely nod. “Do you prefer Dirks or Rosy? By the way, notice how the “r” in Dirks can’t be clearly heard. That’s how you should pronounce it.”

I think I have a talent for naming. “I can make up others if you don’t like them.”

He didn’t seem to like them, given the expression on his face, so I was about to think up a few more names, when he blurted out, “Just call me Zeph and quit this nonsense.”

I felt a little sad; he didn’t even ask why I chose Rosy.

“Man, what a shitty name. You are so bad at it. I hope it’s not your real name, or your parents must have really had something against you.”

He didn't seem to like my comments, so I changed the topic. “Well, getting back to what I wanted to ask... is what you’re doing praying? I've never seen anyone be at it for so long. Or is your god actually answering?”

“Do you think Lord Aldrin would answer to everything a mortal asks him?” he said, in a mix between incredulous and exasperated.

Aldrin… never heard of that god – not surprising, since there are a bunch of them for each country… or so I heard.

“Well, I don’t see why you would stay like that all the time otherwise. I mean, most people I’ve seen just pray for a few minutes at most.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s because they don’t have Praying Skills.”

“Isn’t that Skill something for Priests?”

“No, you’re just all uncultured people,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“And who would be the “cultured” people you speak about?”

He kept his mouth shut. It didn’t seem like a question he was going to answer, so I changed it to another one, to keep the conversation going.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” He looked a bit confused by the switch of topic.

“Oh, you’re younger than I thought,” I answered. “I almost can’t believe it. Seeing your reaction this morning, I thought you were at least a few years older.”

Compliments go a long way to get someone comfortable with you, and it also was an honest compliment – I saw people in their twenties react much slower than him.

“Well, I have been trained since before I got my Class, and the Skill combination of my family is the best.” He tried to hide it, but there was quite a lot of pride in his voice.

I supposed that this 'Skill combination' was a big thing. “And what’s 'Skill combination'?”

He fell silent for a few seconds. “Again, I forgot where I was,” he then said, shaking his head. “Just forget it.”

“Well, thanks for the explanation,” I said, mulling over his words. His home should be really far from here. Surely not this country, and probably neither the Duchy of Calos nor the Almar Kingdom.

“And how old are you?” he asked me.

“Oh, twenty-three,” I answered absentmindedly. “Why do you ask?”

“You just asked me the same question.”

Ah, right, got a bit distracted there.

“Besides, are you really twenty-three? I thought you were nearing your forties.” He was really dripping with skepticism.

That hurt. “Princess, do you think everyone got daily skincare like you? I’ve been around places like this since I was ten, I would like to see what you’d look like after spending half your life here. And I also looked a lot better until a few months ago, when I had proper meals.”

I hoped he was joking anyway.

“I don’t do skincare,” he stated.

“I don’t care, you surely had your nice baths and whatnot. Whatever you rich and noble people do.”

The conversation kind of died off after that. Part of it was because I was feeling too tired and hungry to keep going. So I laid down for a nap while waiting for dinner.

I really feel like an old man, though, I thought after closing my eyes. Moving slowly, always sitting, and complaining when getting up. I feel like shit. I even do naps now.

Thoughts that made me depressed kept coming, but I slowly relaxed.

And then just as I was about to drift off, the screen appeared.

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