“I have two options. One, make a life for myself here on the first floor. Maybe build a little hut in the gardens, figure out how to get food, settle down and survive. Or…” Vivian grinned. “Defeat the Tower!”

When you defeat the Tower… no one’s really sure what happens, because no one’s done it, but it almost certainly kicks you out. Which means, I can finally leave!

Though I guess if it doesn’t kick me out, I’ve conquered the Tower. There shouldn’t be anything that can kill me in the Tower at that point. So really, conquering the Tower is a win-win scenario!

Defeating the Tower as an NPC… defeating it as a Player is hard enough. I failed that once already.

But that was back when I was mortal. An ordinary Player, with but a single life. Now… now I have infinite lives. A million chances to go back and try again. All my skills and gear resetting is kind of… eh, but it’s better than dying once and losing everything forever.

As he thought, he wandered around, letting his feet carry him back to the corner where he’d died. To his surprise, it only took a moment to locate it. A garish, fresh bloodstain marred the mortar around the cobbles, and a few scraps of black cloth caught on the sharper stones. He poked around, then sighed. As I thought. Nothing. They took my body and… did things to it. Horrible, horrible things.

Wait. My body—when I die, I leave a body behind. My skills might reset, but my gear… I can go pick it up off my body, right? As long as I sneak into the inn again, I can get my clippers back. He turned, looking at the inn over his shoulder. The bartender stood outside the inn, beckoning passing Players.

And the hidden boss is outside right now! It’s my chance!

Plus, I’m at the zero state. No levels, no skills… except Tiptoe through the Tulips, which I can easily pick back up. If I die and respawn, I lose nothing. The time to recover my clippers is now!

Vivian sashayed into the bar, directly past the bartender. She didn’t acknowledge him, continuing to beckon and shout at passerby. Inside, the rowdy bargoers hung out, still drinking and chewing peanuts. Vivian headed directly for the bar, but the second he started to cross the bartop, one of the rowdy bar bros turned and locked eyes with him.

“Not that easy, huh?” Vivian asked, backing away.

“If you want free beer, do something worth cheering for,” the man admonished him, shaking his head.

“I don’t really want a bunch of cannibals to cheer for me,” Vivian said neutrally.

The rowdy man scowled at him. A green number appeared over his head, ticking by at speed.

Oh, shit! I didn’t mean to proc his aggression chance. Vivian cleared his throat. “Haha! What am I saying? I’d be honored, truly.”

The green number disappeared. Settling back down, the rowdy man went back to ignoring him.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Vivian shook his head. “Note to self: don’t piss off the cannibal NPCs.”

Heading back into the rear of the bar, he clambered back onto the tables again. The dark-cloaked man regarded him quietly. Vivian gave him a look. “You gonna start something?”

The dark-cloaked man turned away.

Guess not. Vivian tucked his rake through his belt. Kicking and struggling, rake banging against his back, Vivian wiggled his way up into the rafters. The grime was disturbed where he’d climbed earlier, dust knocked away and spiderwebs cleared. He followed the same path, scooting over the rowdy men. This time, though, no moths dropped down on the drinkers. He clambered overhead quietly, not disturbing them as he passed.

Up in the rafters, he glanced ahead, but the wall closed all the way past the rafters to the roof between the kitchen and the secret cannibal room. Makes sense. Don’t want that blood reek to infect the whole bar. He hopped down into the empty kitchen. Today, no soup boiled in the cauldron, but an uncomfortably familiar thigh sat on the kitchen counter, half-skinned.

Yep. I’m just gonna… pretend I didn’t see that. Vivian tried the rear door.

It clanked, locked.

Fuck! Couldn’t be that easy, huh?

Makes sense, though. I can’t refute it. If I had a secret cannibal room, I’d lock it when I wasn’t at the bar, too.

He glanced over his shoulder, then looked at the door. Somewhat flimsy, it was marred with grimy brownish-red marks, and the boards were eaten away at the bottom. Can I bust through this door, find my body, yank the clippers off it, and escape before the bar bros get me?

No. No, I cannot. What kind of question is that, even? Vivian shook his head at himself. He wandered through the kitchen, quietly opening drawers and cabinets. Come on. You have an extra key, right? Everyone keeps extra keys under a pot outside their back door. I bet you keep one somewhere near the cannibal room. I mean, what are you supposed to do if you lock yourself out, eat ordinary mea—

The bar’s door creaked open. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting!” the bartender said cheerfully.

Vivian stiffened. He looked around at all the opened cabinets. Shit!

“There was a cat wandering around earlier,” one of the bros said.

“Oh?” the bartender said, her voice curling up at the end like a slow smile.

I know, I know. Keep talking! Vivian darted from cabinet to cabinet, shutting them as quietly as he could. The rake knocked around on his back, and every step and quiet bump from a shutting cabinet sounded as loud as a clanging bell to his ears.

“Mmm… lost track of him, though. He might have left,” the other one commented.

Dammit, stop with the coded messages. Just say it outright, Vivian thought, rolling his eyes. The human meat wandered off somewhere, that’s what you mean. He whirled around one more time, quickly checking that he’d shut everything, them jumped up onto the countertops and kicked his way into the rafters. Breathing heavily, he watched as the bartender headed into the kitchen. She looked around, a hand on her hips.

Abruptly, she stopped and looked directly up.

Vivian froze. He averted his eyes, not daring to meet hers. You don’t see me, you don’t see me!

“I don’t see any cats,” the bartender said after a moment.

Vivian breathed out, relieved.

She stepped, and her leg knocked an open cabinet. The bartender paused.

Vivian licked his lips. Shit, I missed one! Come on, cut me some slack. It’s not enough for her to find me, not enough, not enough!

“Did I leave that open?” she murmured, kicking it closed.

Phew. Vivian relaxed, just a hair.

“You don’t see the cat? It must have left. How’re those ribs coming along?” a bar bro asked.

“Ribs? I thought you wanted a sandwich,” she complained, slapping the half-peeled thigh on the countertop.

“He wanted a sandwich. I want ribs,” the bar bro said, nodding at the other bro.

The bartender sighed. Reaching to a key ring dangling from her waist, she drew out a key and unlocked the back room. The door shut behind her. Horrible cracking and smacking sounds echoed out from inside.

Vivian licked his lips. He drew out the rake. Now or never. When she leaves that room, it’s my turn!