Though, of course, since it would be rude to chug the clearly expensive drink, I just take a sip. The status messages will be sure to roll in any second no—

Hang on a second. This is…

Moleman grins at me. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

…Good? This; good?

I bring the glass to my lips and take a full swig. Flavour and sweetness and mellow aromas explode across my tongue. Spices! Spices! Spices! But the second I swallow down half a mouthful I stop myself, my throat wringing itself shut. No, I can’t drink this too quickly! I have one glass and that’s it—I need to be frugal! I can’t allow myself to just drink this all down in my greedy carelessness! I have to—

But that half-a-mouthful was my downfall. My throat is flooded with yummy yummy yummy yummy delicious honey water that suddenly can’t go down my oesophagus, and with no other road ahead, it obviously goes down into my lungs where I’m promptly choked and-or drowned. Pain blossoms through my chest as I clutch the glass with trembling hands, desperately trying to keep it steady as I cough my lungs out. “COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH—”

Drowning Resistance Lv.4>

“H—hey, Ho-Jae, calm down!”

In some attempt to help me, Moleman starts pounding on my back, trying to dispel the demons, which is silly because he literally has supernatural abilities of healing, something he himself realised after patting my back a couple of times. “Hang on just a second—”

If the pain was flower blossoms before, it now explodes into full-on rose bushes, granting a sensation closest compared to that of my ribcage being cracked open from the inside. The pain only lasts for a moment though before instantly receding, leaving my chest warm and clear and I take a deep gasping breath, my airways cleared and open. “Haah, haah, haah…”

Moleman pats me on the back, this time clearly as emotional support rather than physical. “You alright there, Ho-Jae?”

I nod at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just got a bit of hubris is all.” My voice is a little hoarse but it’s okay. I’m good now. No more problems. Now, I’ll be fine.

My gaze surreptitiously slides over to the half-emptied glass of honey water. I glance up at Moleman. He doesn’t say anything, instead letting his actions speak for him by reaching out, grabbing my glass and holding it out to me. I reach for it, but he pulls it out of reach at the last second. I glare at him. “Only,” he says, “if you drink it slowly. And don’t choke on it. Hanging around you is really starting to drain my recovery crystals.”

I look at him, and then at the glass of auburn water, and then back to him again. I put on the face of a soldier going to war. “I swear I won’t drown on it again.”

He holds my gaze for a second before finally capitulating and handing me the glass. Living up to my username, I snatch the glass from him like a greedy little cat, almost spilling a few drops. I put the glass to my face and take a careful, tempered sip. Ahhh. Oh, that is good. More than good. Absolutely yummilicious.

For a few seconds, Moleman watches me carefully, like I’m some unlucky kitty who always gets caught in the clothesline when his back’s turned. Eventually, though, he grabs his own cup and takes a sip. When he puts the cup down, he turns to me, looks me up and down, and asks, “So, what did you want my advice for?”

I gulp down a bit of the tastiest liquid I’ve ever had. “Advice?” He stares at me. I stare at him. Realisation flashes through my head like a lightning bolt. “—Oh! Advice, yeah, okay, you’re right, um…” To stall for time while I let my thoughts spin in their hamster wheels, I wave my hands a little. “So, okay, to make a long story short, it kind of started when I reached the boss of floor fourteen…”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“...And now I’m not totally sure what to do. I want to help Simel, but I don’t even know how I’d do that, or if that’s even what the gods want me to do, and for that matter, do I even care about what the gods want me to do when Simel’s life is at stake?” With that, I finally turn my gaze back to Moleman. He hasn’t stopped staring at me since I opened my mouth. There’s a weird look in his eye, which might be attributed to the non-specificity of my question. “So, uh… yeah. What should I do?”

His face tightens just a smidge. He’s been holding the cup during my whole explanation, but it’s still mostly full. For some reason, he seems a bit reluctant to say anything. “...Do you really want to hear what I think you should do?”

I hope my face is as firm as my heart is. “Yes,” I say. “If there’s anyone’s advice I trust, it’s yours.”

That seems to soothe him a little at ease, as the tension melts from his face a little. “Right. Okay. In that case, I really think you should ███ ██ ████ ██████ ████ ███ ████ ███ ████ ████ ██ ██ ██████ ████ ███ ████ ███ ████ ████ ████ █████████ █████ ██████ █████ ███ ██████ █ ████ ████ ██████ ███ ███ ███ ██ ████ ███████ ███ █████ ████ ███████ ███ █████ ██ ███ █████ ███ █████ ████ ████ █████████ ████ █████ ██—”

“H—hang on a moment,” I say, interrupting him mid-sentence. If that can even be called a sentence to begin with.

He turns to me, a sympathetic look on his face. “I know it’ll be hard, but—”

“No, no, that isn’t it. What you just said, uh…”

His heavyset brows furrow. “What’s wrong? It might not be what you’d like to hear, however, I think that ████████ ██ ███ ██ ████ █████ ████████ ████ ████ ████ █████ ███ ██—”

“There it is again!” I cry. “It’s like—it’s like you’re cussing up a storm and the censors are bleeping out every single word you say!”

“B—bleeping?” Moleman repeats. “I’m being bleeped out?” His lips form into a little frown. “Are you sure you’re not just—”

“No, I am not hallucinating this. Something is making it so you just sound like one long bleep instead of actual words.” A little thought strikes me. It’s so logical it makes me grind my teeth. “And I know just who and why.”

Moleman looks sceptical at best. “And who and why is tha—”

“Those damn gods!” I blurt out. “They don’t want me getting pro gamer advice, so they’re messing with my head so I can’t even hear what you’re saying! Argh, those damn hacks…!” I gnash my teeth and scowl at the empty air around us. I’m sure those damn gods are around here, watching—waiting…!

Moleman lifts his hand and almost says something before closing it again, rubbing his chin in thought, and then finally admitting, “Honestly, I wouldn’t be too surprised. Going by what you’ve explained before, they really seem to have it out for you. I mean—forcing you to decide for yourself what the right thing is? Clearly, they’re testing the merit of your morality.”

“...For what, though?” I grumble.

He shrugs. “That’s the question, friend. Maybe, if you do what they think is right, they’ll be nicer to you? Maybe even remove your debt and let you buy armour and food?” His words make me rub my chin. Hmm. That’s possible… “Personally, though, I’d bet they just want to see if you’ll █████ █████ ███ ████████ ██ ██ ███ or if—”

“Stop, stop!” I say, waving my hands at him. “Just—stop making that damn bleeping, okay? It is really getting on my nerves.”

For a moment, he’s actually quiet. But then I see something develop inside him. Something I have only ever seen in my sister. Something that now takes form with such power and vengeance that we might as well be related by blood.

He grins at me like a brother just about to do the one thing his brother told him specifically not to do. “Or what, Ho-Jae? You’ll make the right choice and ████ █████ █████ ███████ ██████████ ██ █ ███████—”

“Stooooooopppppppp!!”

Suffice it to say, after that, I did not receive much future advice for the floor. But I did get to dunk a pitcher of water over his head, at the cost of him using magic to dangle me over the drop outside the window. In the end, though, we were able to find common ground in the desire to neither drop nor sully the cookies, so the final few minutes of our chat were spent calmly and not at all in tense expectation of the second shoe to drop.

After that, I accidentally mentioned the fact that I couldn’t get the whole magic thing to work, which surprised Moleman enough to decide to try to teach me magic himself. I would show that progress in more detail if it hadn’t been composed solely of me failing and of Moleman proving himself somehow even more patient than I had previously believed.

By the time the sun went down, I had learnt more theory behind the magic and why it should work, but actually having the magic take form inside me was something completely different. It just wouldn’t happen.

Once the huge, server-wide new year’s eve party was going full blast in the main hall of the castle, we both agreed to simply leave and take our places on the dance floor.

I couldn’t enjoy it, though. Not really. The fun little tussle and the magic teaching had distracted me from the real thoughts at play.

The only one who could tell me what the right thing to do was me.

The gods didn’t want me to do the right thing. That wasn’t their goal here. They couldn’t care less if I killed the giant or saved Simel or ended world hunger. What they really wanted to see, what they really wanted to know, was what I considered to be the right thing. And if that thing just so happened to be what they would consider the wrong thing, then…

—Then what?

I don’t know. I can’t know. That’s in the future. A future I don’t know. One I can never know.

The room is thumping with music and stomping feet and the air is thick with breathing and alcohol. I don’t really want to be here. But I don’t want to think, either. And when I weigh them against each other—thinking or drinking—one’s clearly the winner.

I look across the dance floor. Over by the group of musicians stand Virgil and Arun. They smile and wave at me and I wave back. I take a swig of the bottle in my hand, though I’m not sure what it is. The sting of alcohol burns a track down my throat and I take another. The world seems to slow down around me, and I stumble out onto the dance floor.

After that, I don’t remember much.