The skeleton withdrew his blade and turned, discarding the sword back onto the counter. He flicked away the dirty cleaning rag he had in his other hand, deep into the back of the shop. Once again, he regarded the girl with mild interest. Despite her expensive-looking clothing—most likely noble attire—she carried no weapons, no artifacts, nothing to suggest that she was equipped to enter this dungeon.

“Say something brat. Who the hell are you, and where is the rest of your party?” He demanded, voice sharp and ragged.

The girl stayed silent and just stared at the skeleton. He couldn’t help but notice her unwavering gaze. It was as if he was a marvel, a mythical being that had only existed in dreams, but now had appeared before her.

The girl had seen a skeleton before. Case in point, the one directly behind her. But this skeleton in front of her held one sizable difference. It made him unique compared to the other skeletons she saw along the halls. For inside the skeleton’s skull burned a dainty but colorful flame, bathed in a ghostly glow. Both small purple flames sat inside his skull, floating directly in the center of his eye sockets. When he spoke, the flames danced, seeming to change in size and intensity based on his emotions.

The skeleton stooped, placing his bony hands on his hips. He stared the girl down, the sparks in his eyes condensing tightly. "Say something brat," he repeated, tone much colder than before. His eye sockets squeezed slightly, and the bone structure surrounding his sockets thinned, imitating human scrutiny.

After a few moments, the skeleton leaned back up after seeing no reaction from the girl. His eyes widened back to normal. He crossed his arms while keeping his gaze locked on her. He observed her reactions for a moment, feeling both curious and impatient. She kept looking at him with a dumbfounded stare.

Suddenly, she moved her hand upward. She stood on her tiptoes and reached for the skeleton's skull. Her fingers aiming to take in the small cute flames that burned inside the empty space. However—the bitter skeleton immediately swatted away her hand.

"Stop that, you brat," he said indifferently. "Just tell me who you are already. Is there anyone else with you?"

The girl said nothing and stayed silent. She looked at the skeleton in its entirety. She was curious. Extremely curious. Why was this skeleton different? The skeleton could even make noises from its mouth. Not even the skeleton being eaten by the furry creature she saw before made any noise.

When she reached her hand back up and attempted to touch the skull again—he smacked her hand away. It wasn’t a hard smack—more of a light tap, really—but it was enough to send a ripple of laughter through the odd girl. She giggled as she made several more attempts to touch its skull. Smack, smack, smack. Three times did it smack her hand away. She was finding this game of reach-and-swat quite amusing.

"Enough already!" he screamed as he hit away the girl's hand one last time. He didn’t swat her hand hard, but perhaps it may have stung a bit, considering he didn't have any soft human flesh and instead had cold hard bones for hands. However, it soon became clear to him that the girl was enjoying this, given by her new wave of annoying laughter.

He grunted. This was why he hated children. “Alright kid, my name’s Pell. And who are you?” asked the skeleton. He was going to change strategies. It was obvious the girl didn't care about his threatening tone.

Uncrossing his arms, he bent them at an angle, both hands on his hips. He awaited an answer, but none came—her expression still a sheet of blank parchment.

“Hello? Can you understand me? Say something.”

Again, the girl stood motionless, with a blank expression.

“Your name, kid. What is your name?” he asked, slowly enunciating each word.

“N-na-name?”

The skeleton tilted forward, hands still on his hips. “Yes. Your name. What. Is. Your name?”

“Name!” she said, as began to hop around. “Name! Name! Name!”

She began shouting the word multiple times over, clearly more interested in saying the word itself instead of answering his question.

Pell’s nonexistent eyebrows furrowed. With a sigh of resignation, he smacked his palm against his skull, resulting in a quiet clack. From an adventurer to a mercenary, to a damn rabbit that could have accidentally ventured into the dungeon—he just had to meet a girl with a severely addled mind. Great. Just. Wonderful.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ZiLMGqb.png]

The little girl wore a grin on her face as she still kept repeating the word name aloud. She jumped up and down in front of Pell, twirling and skipping around in a circle as she did so.

A few minutes had passed by since he encountered the young monster in a child’s form. She appeared to be…8, maybe 9 years old. Perhaps 10? He was never good at gauging the age of children. He always avoided the annoying brats and didn’t care enough to entertain them. For all he knew, perhaps the girl could have been 5 years old, and he was severely overestimating.

As he watched the little girl jump and skip around, without a care in the world, he noticed something off about her movements. They seemed… stiff—unpracticed even. Just like a greenhorn knight discovering the true weight of a metal sword compared to that of a wooden one. A classic saying used by knights came to mind: A wooden blade weighs as much as hope, but a steel blade weighs as much as courage.

Something didn’t sit right with him about her condition.

She was in full—most likely custom-tailored black clothing—which he also found damn creepy and unsettling. A little girl out of nowhere in dark black clothing? She looked like some cursed wraith, ready to forcibly send his soul departing. If he hadn’t already been a skeleton living in constant darkness, he probably would have gotten a heart attack. But no, the clothing wasn’t the issue.

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There were no visible wounds on her body. Her face seemed fine, and her shoulders and hands were void of any blemishes. She also didn’t appear to be in any kind of pain either, not with her incessant annoying—Name! Name! Name!

However, Pell was an old man. Well, not that old, but old enough to feel the creeping effects and everlasting curse that is known as old age. He was middle-aged, at a solid 44 years old, but he had been weathered by the woes of hard work and stress. Technically, he would be 48 years old now if he was alive.. Of course, those days were long behind him—new skeletal body and all that. No need for muscles or “managing his health.” However, this little girl reminded him of it—trouble moving limbs, the unfamiliarity of losing control of one’s own body. He shrugged. Perhaps he was overthinking it.

The little girl made another pass in front of him, skipping and even running circles around Mr. Bones, who was having trouble keeping up with the little gremlin.

What the hell is happening? He thought, utterly baffled at the situation. Apparently, the brain damage she received must have been very severe. She didn't just have amnesia, but full-blown memory loss. Hell, the brat didn't even know how to speak! She probably didn’t even know what she was shouting.

Pell knew something like losing memories was possible, given enough head trauma. However, to regress to the state of a whelp, one that didn’t even know language? This prank was both disgusting and tasteless. Whoever sent this child to him must have been toying with him. Someone is probably testing me—to determine if I’m a threat or not. But damn, to use a child as bait? Pell scoffed. Whatever.

Pell stood and walked over to the girl. She stopped playing and stared back up at him.

“Status. Staaaatus,” Pell said, stretching out the word so she could hear his enunciation.

“S-s-stat-statis?” the girl asked, stopping and repeating after the skeleton. “St-tatis?”

“No, Status. Status.”

“S’tatis? Tus? Tatatis?”

“No. Not ‘Tatatis’. I said, ‘Status’.”

“Tatata? Stus? Sta-”

“No. Not stus, not tatis, not tatatis, Not goddamn Tartarus!” he growled, growing agitated. “Status. STA-TUS.” This loop continued for a few more repetitions. Pell’s frustration only grew during this time.

“Sta…tus?” she said. Her eyes widened as something flashed in front of her.

“Finally,” he said, slumping his shoulders.

A thin blue transparent interface popped into existence, hanging in the air before her. Strange symbols appeared along its surface, which she would later come to recognize as numbers and letters. The strange screen appeared to move according to her gaze, shifting to appear wherever her eyes looked.

Looking at the child, Pell could see the wonder and fascination in her eyes as she examined her status screen. He sighed. “Alright. That is your status screen. What does it say your name is? And also, is there still anyone alive in your party? Any names?”

She kept looking at the screen; her gaze darting around with intrigue but lack of understanding. She looked up and down on the panel, her eyes darting frantically from side to side. After a few moments, the girl’s gaze faced back towards the shopkeeper. She blinked. Then she tilted her head.

“Oh, fuck me… I'm so damn stupid,” Pell muttered, realization sinking into his skull. Of course, this was going to happen. Why was he expecting something different?

She lacked communication skills. She didn’t understand a damn thing he said and was just mimicking the sounds she heard. The damn brat also didn't know how to read! He curled his fingers into a fist. He originally thought he could have gleaned something off of her. But now, it was obvious that she couldn’t do just that, which was apparent by the dumb expression covering her face.

The entire interaction would go nowhere. Pell spoke as if he could extract even the smallest bit of information from her. But it was painfully clear that the girl was even more lost than he was.

The little girl was wearing a finely made black and purple robe, one side sashing over the other. Another small and thin sash near the center of her body tied her dress together. The clothing design didn't look like anything he had recognized. But that wasn't surprising. There were countless nobles across the realms with varying tastes in clothing, from simple and pristine to lavish and eccentric.

If she was a noble, then someone must have taught her how to read from a young age. Her brain must have suffered a substantial injury, given her inability to read or speak. Or perhaps maybe there was some type of magic that caused her memories to disappear, or perhaps a type of artifact or rune—perhaps even a curse.

“Man, what the hell…” Pell muttered as he pondered the situation. Talking to the girl when she couldn’t understand him wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Alright. If you can’t speak, read, or even write—though, why’d you need to write here is beyond me—then there’s still a chance someone from your party will come and can talk to me. I just have to wait. If you made it down here, then your party must be at least partially competent,” he said.

Pell walked over and grabbed the girl’s arm and led her over to the shop. He handled her with care, mindful not to cause any harm. The last thing he wanted was to injure a noble and become a wanted criminal.

He lifted the wooden square latch and guided the little girl inside the shop. He guided her over to the wooden chair next to the table.

“Alright, you,” Pell said, guiding his finger from the girl to the chair, “you just sit down on the chair there and stay still, and don’t move anywhere. Got it?”

The little girl moved over to the chair that Pell pointed at. She briefly looked at it before turning around to face him. Seeing that he was still pointing at her, she reached out and clutched his finger in her hand.

“What? Hey! Let go!” Pell yelled. He tugged away his hand from the little girl and heard a small snapping sound. As he looked back at his finger, he noticed that the little gremlin had just stolen his damn finger bone.

"Hey! Give me my finger back!" Pell grabbed at the girl’s hand and ripped his finger away and reattached it with a satisfying clack.

Annoyed and frustrated, Pell fixed a piercing gaze on the wealthy-looking little child. Man, why did it have to be a damn brat? He could’ve handled talking to an adventurer, a mage from the association, a ragged villager, or even a dirty beggar. But the gods saddled him with a brat whose brain was more scrambled than a hen’s egg during a founding feast.

“Ugh, fine,” Pell groaned.

The little girl crept onto the chair as Pell walked past her and went towards the closet at the back of the shop. Disappearing for only a few moments, he came back with a family of dust settling atop his skull. In his hand was a large and hefty book.

“Alright, here, read this,” he said, voice oozing with disdain. “Well… you probably can’t, but whatever. It has nice little pretty pictures inside it. Children like pretty picture books, right?” He asked sarcastically.

He placed the book down in front of the girl. The book was a fiction novel called Bandit Town: The Hero Arrives. It was still a full-length novel, but it also contained many illustrations on various pages. It was a book about a hero coming to a town filled with bandits, and doing… well, whatever heroes do. The series comprised five entries, and this was the second book. Unfortunately, Pell never could find the first book being sold anywhere, so he refused to get the other entries.

Pell walked over to the counter and sat on top of his stool. He looked at the young, confused girl. She opened the book and began looking at the words and pictures in it. The book was upside down. Pell sighed and turned his body to look out of the shop’s glassless window. He stared at the wall and pondered.

As long as I can keep her distracted, I’ll keep my sanity. That party of hers shouldn’t take more than a day or so to scour this floor unless they had set up camp. If they made it this far, then there’s no way any monster on this floor could harm them. The only monsters on this floor were simple skeletons with swords and slow-moving zombies. Hopefully, they don’t run into the damn rat…if they do…