Pell frowned. It had already been an entire day. He had been waiting at the counter ever since he'd met the little intruder. She was a noble, so where were her guards? Mercenaries? Hell, not even a butler? Why had they not come yet?

Pell's expression worsened as more hours passed by, with no sign of anyone in sight. The only visitors that came by were the random skeletons and zombies of the dungeon.

Peering over his shoulder, he snuck a glance at the little girl sitting at his table, reading his book. She noticed his gaze and looked back at him with a confused look. "Where the hell is your party? You have some shitty guards if they can't even clear a floor with low-level undead."

She waited a moment, before moving her mouth to repeat his words, "Shi-"

"Don't. You. Fucking say that word. You aren't old enough," Pell commanded.

"Fu-"

"NOT. That one. EITHER."

The girl let out a giggle as she sunk her head back down into her book, covering her face from Pell's gaze.

Pell squinted his eyes at the gremlin before turning away. He could hear her muttering something beneath her breath but he couldn’t be bothered any longer.

The past day and a half had been uneventful. The little girl was still deeply engrossed in her adventure novel. But from the moment Pell had lent it to her, to now, she had still been holding it upside down. Pell found this amusing, but also slightly infuriating for some reason he couldn’t describe.

Pell would sometimes try to communicate with her, but every time he did, he didn't receive any intellectual response. Instead, she tried to repeat the words he asked her. This, unfortunately, included swear words.

Pell rolled his eyes. He didn't care whether or not he swore near the girl, but if she tried to copy him, that would be another matter. If her noble family found out she learned how to swear from him? Yeah, no. Pell would probably be tortured to death. Or, Un-death? Re-death? Death-Death.

“Bo~ Bo~ Bo~,” the girl sang. She bobbed her head side to side in a rhythmic dance. Within the last few hours, she had been trying to pronounce the word "book" but couldn’t get it correct. So now, she was stuck saying, “Bo Bo Bo.”

"Aghh..." Pell groaned, sliding his face down his arm. "Where are they!"

He was practically a babysitter now. A child was suddenly thrust upon his shop's steps, and now he had to take care of her. It was only a coincidence that he still had almost an entire stock full of rations—small preserved cans of meat, and plenty of drinking water. Some of which were his, and others were from the dead adventurer's group he had originally traveled into the dungeon with. It wasn't just keeping the brat entertained, but also feeding her. What the hell was this? A daycare?

Pell had been stuck here for four years already. He needed the dungeon conquered and cleared. Hell, the girl’s party was probably here to do that anyway. There was only a singular reason someone would enter a dungeon: to clear it. That, or to scout it. Whatever the case, Pell just needed to contact some more intellectual people and not a girl with brain damage.

Pell clenched his fingers and popped his knuckles, a habit he formed without even realizing it. This small gesture became an almost subconscious ritual for him. It helped to alleviate the creeping frustration that constantly gnawed at him.

Pell needed to leave the dungeon, but couldn't do it on his own. Once he had become an undead, the dungeon core took over control of his soul and bound it. This also meant he couldn't escape past the boundaries of the dungeon. Whenever he tried to ascend or descend the stairs of the dungeon, an invisible force would forcefully pull him back.

Every dungeon boasted a dungeon core, hidden deep within. They were known as the dungeon hearts, the source of a dungeon's power. Claiming it meant claiming the entire dungeon itself. Simply put, Pell just needed to claim the dungeon core, and he'd be a free man—a free skeleton. The main problem with this was that that he couldn’t even reach the core, let alone fight the monsters on the way there. A mysterious force bound him to the current floor, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t leave it's boundary.

Pell glanced back at the little girl one more time. She was still silently bobbing her head like she was listening to a bard reciting a tune. What the hell are you thinking about. How can you have that much fun looking at an upside down book?

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

The little girl’s party was probably his last chance. Although Pell wouldn’t die from age anymore, it didn’t mean he was immortal. He needed to convince her party to allow him to tag along. Especially since he saved the little girl from a large horde of undead monsters by hiding her away in his shop. At least, that was the story he was planning on giving. It's not like the little girl could refute it, considering her current state of mind right now.

The problem with her brain wasn’t an all too important issue. He could simply just claim she had lost her memories when he had found her. Technically, this did happen, but he would also make up some heroic tale along the way. A simple monster slain here, an attack blocked there, a heroic stand against a horde of bloodthirsty undead? That’s all he needed to say. No one could refute him.

He had already spent years waiting for a miracle. He needed to break what he referred to as his 'soul-tether'. There was no other choice. If there was a competent party that was here to clear the dungeon, then they would be his key to freedom. A gambler’s jackpot, a hero's princess, a merchant’s platinum coin.

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

After a couple more long hours, Pell became impatient and started having second thoughts. Was he mistaken? Perhaps the girl was actually abandoned?

There had been no movement or any noises from anywhere down the halls. Not even a single echo of a footstep. A non-bony footstep, that is. It had been eerily quiet as it had always been. No sound of swords clashing, no sounds of magic being cast, absolutely nothing.

Pell stared at the girl who had her face smashed into the book's innards. She was completely entranced by the book. Even when he waved his hands, she wouldn't even notice or acknowledge him. It was a far cry from earlier when she kept moving the book around in circles and started reading it upside down. Now, she just looked like a studious student.

She would occasionally make noises like ooh or simply giggle at who knows what. He hadn't read it in quite a while and forgot some of the plot, but it's not like he would forget the genre. It wasn't exactly an extremely serious or gruesome novel, but he was certain it wasn't a comedy either. He wasn't sure if the girl was actually learning or remembering anything, or if she was just giggling at words or pictures that looked funny.

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

He stood there, staring at the wall opposite his shop. His head lying on his palm, bored out of his damn mind.

"B-boo?" came a sound from behind him.

Pell lifted his head and shifted on his creaky stool to look at the girl. She was holding the book in her hand, closed and pressed to her chest. With a small smile, she extended her arm, presenting the book to him with a "here you go" gesture.

"B-bo-book," she stammered.

Pell let out an exaggerated groan. "Alright, alright, I'll grab you another book," he muttered, dragging his bones off the stool as if it was the greatest burden in the world. He walked over and grabbed the book from her small hands, tucking it beneath his arm.

With a huff, Pell went back to the closet and fetched out three more novels. He placed the books down on the table in what he considered to be an ascending order of difficulty. Not that it mattered much—none of the books in his possession were written for children. Bandit Town wasn’t a children’s novel either—it just coincidentally included illustrations.

She reached for the first book on top of the stack, gripping it with both hands. Pell rolled his eyes as he noticed it was upside down. But before Pell could correct her, she rotated the book correct-side up on her own. Well, seems like she's getting some of her memory back. He thought.

Pell sighed. He went and hopped back on top of his shabby stool. He resumed his casual standing-and-staring-at-the-wall routine, with his skull back on his palm. Guess I'll keep waiting. He thought, though he had no idea how long that wait may actually be.

Everything was strange. Nothing made sense about the entire situation. There wasn’t even the faintest trace of the girl’s party anywhere. No echoes of voices, no sounds of fighting, no signs of movement, nothing. Perhaps they left the dungeon to regroup or gather more supplies, or maybe they encountered some type of obstacle. Worst-case scenario, maybe they would be back within the week. However, as time went on, the idea seemed increasingly unlikely.

Pell wasn’t a stranger to waiting. He'd been in this dungeon for four years, with nothing to do and no one to talk with. Besides his collection of books, there was nothing else for him to do but sit in his shop and wait. Just sitting there, hoping that something—anything—would signal that this day would differ from the previous.

And so, the days continued to pass by, taunting him for daring to have hope. Each day blended into the next, like it always had been. The little girl remained with him, reading more and more books and learning a few words here and there. Pell seized this opportunity to help her learn a few words. It was something to do, something to pass the time, but more often than not, it only served to frustrate him more.

“No! Not that word, you brat!” Pell would snap at the girl, but all he got in return, was her obnoxious giggling as she butchered the pronunciation of “skeleton” as “sell a ton”. Honestly, that one was amusing, given his profession and all. That however, didn’t make it any less annoying.

Each lesson became a battle of wills, with the rare satisfaction of Pell hearing her learn a new word, or spending multiple hours trying to get her to read her own damn name. Apparently, teaching someone to read was much harder than teaching them to speak.

Despite Pell’s grumbling and groaning, there was some solace in these moments. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had Mr. Bones, but he couldn’t speak or communicate with him. The little girl became someone he desperately needed, but he wouldn’t admit it. He would never admit it. That’s just the kind of guy he was.