Looking at the three people before him, Norris swallowed the last mouthful of soup, his throat rolling as his fingers unconsciously scratched tiny marks into the wooden table.
"You sure ran fast!" Fei Ling slammed her palm on the table, making the soup bowl jump half an inch. "We helped you out, and you just—"
"Fei Ling!" Vera grabbed her shoulder, then looked at Norris. "Don't mind her, she's just a bit loose-tongued, no ill intent."
Fei Ling muttered, "What do you mean loose-tongued..."
"I... I know," Norris kept his head down, voice barely audible. "Thank you..."
He suddenly stood up, his old leather boots knocking over the wooden stool. "S-sorry, I still have to go into the dungeon tomorrow, so right now..."
Norris practically ran out the door, disappearing into the night.
"What's that supposed to mean? Makes it seem like I was bullying him."
Fei Ling grumbled in dissatisfaction. Having the person she helped fear her was rather frustrating.
Vera patted her shoulder consolingly. "Come on, he did say thank you before leaving, didn't he?"
...
Norris knew they meant well, but he really wasn't suited to interacting with people like them.
He was like a rat in the gutter, only feeling safe in corners where no one paid attention.
The gazes of others, whether kind or malicious, all frightened him.
He knew he had problems, but there were reasons he'd become this way.
For someone who could become a slave at any moment for failing to repay debts, having psychological issues was perfectly normal, wasn't it?
Some are born in Rome, others are born as beasts of burden.
Unfortunately, Norris was the latter.
Thanks to his gambling addict father who died early.
Before he'd even come of age, he'd already signed his crooked signature in the baron's dusty ledger, inheriting a debt of thirty-two gold coins.
There was no concept of "death cancels debt" here. Death could take away the gambler's breath, but it couldn't take away the parchment scroll recording the debt at the notary office—a son paying his father's debts was only natural.
Norris should even be grateful that his gambling father's skills were limited and hadn't managed to rack up debts in the hundreds of gold.
According to law, those who couldn't repay debts would be sentenced to slavery under their creditors. His father had been lucky enough to drink himself to death before that step.
And for him, who was only fourteen at the time, the United Kingdom's laws were humane enough to allow him to make installment payments after turning sixteen.
Two gold coins every three months, plus interest—forty gold over five years.
To avoid the fulfilling life of slavery, he'd started trying to save money from age fourteen.
Then in his first year of payments, he'd thrown in all his previous savings.
There was no helping it—Norris, who barely met the minimum standards of an adventurer, simply didn't have the ability to earn that much money.
At seventeen, he should have become a slave for not paying enough, but fate finally seemed to smile on him a little.
The monsters on the fifth floor had been cleared out by the puffshrooms, and even a copper-rank adventurer like him could dig out basket after basket of magic crystals as long as he carefully followed the rules.
Thank the puffshrooms, or he'd probably already be on a slave ship bound for the islands...
Right now he just wanted to quickly go back into the dungeon to dig up another basket of magic crystals.
...
Early the next morning, Norris arrived at the dungeon with his carrying basket and pickaxe.
Upon entering, he noticed some traces of mycelium above the dungeon entrance.
He didn't know if the other adventurers coming and going hadn't noticed, or had already gotten used to it.
It seemed mycelium growing anywhere wasn't strange anymore.
He'd heard that the sixth floor was also starting to grow mycelium, where the puffshrooms were fighting fiercely with slimes.
But for now, none of that concerned him. He just needed to honestly dig magic crystals, allowing him to pay his debts while still saving a little money.
Even just a few dozen silver would be precious to him.
While calculating his savings plan, Norris shamelessly followed behind other teams down to the fifth floor. His strength was weak, so he had no choice...
The mining pick struck sparks against the rock wall. As usual, Norris spent nearly two days filling a basket with magic crystal ore.
But as he approached the cave mouth, an accident occurred—someone was approaching.
"Damn it! Magic crystal stones everywhere!" The harsh voice shook mycelium loose from the cave ceiling.
This filled Norris with a sense of foreboding.
Another raspy voice chimed in: "What a loss not coming to this area before! Quick, quick, pack them all up!"
When Norris emerged, he saw two figures in leather armor frantically grabbing scattered ore.
"Um... if you do that, the puffshrooms will come..." Norris couldn't help but warn them.
When puffshrooms fought adventurers, they wouldn't care about accidentally injuring him.
"Huh?"
One adventurer glanced at him, saw he was only copper-rank, sneered, and shoved him down.
"Stop pretending. You can't pick them up so you don't want others to either?"
Clearly they thought the crystals in his basket were also picked up.
However, when Norris fell, his pickaxe flew from his grip in a silver arc, landing squarely on the mushroom cap of a puffshroom that was mining.
The shelled cap cracked instantly, and the puffshroom collapsed limply to the ground.
This made Norris's face go white—he'd killed a puffshroom!
He could only quickly gather his magic crystals that had scattered on the ground and run toward the exit first.
The two adventurers weren't completely ignorant of the fifth floor's situation either. After a brief moment of shock, they immediately understood.
"Oh crap, killed a puffshroom!"
"Then let's get out of here! The puffshrooms can't surround us instantly."
"That kid killed it, didn't he!"
Cursing voices came from behind as the two adventurers carrying bags of magic crystals caught up. As one passed Norris, someone deliberately tripped him.
This time Norris fell hard to the ground, several magic crystals spilling from his basket and even hitting his head.
"You killed the puffshroom, you deal with the consequences!"
The adventurers' voices grew distant. Norris had no time to collect the crystals—he knew what happened to those who killed puffshrooms.
He had to escape quickly!
However, the two adventurers had barely run two steps out of the cave when Norris saw seven or eight puffshrooms suddenly leap from the surrounding mycelium carpet, pouncing on them, followed by a series of thunderous explosions.
The blast force made the cave tremble violently. Norris had to press against the wall to resist the impact, completely failing to notice that a large chunk of rock had been shaken loose above his head...
...
...
...
After an unknown amount of time, Norris finally regained a trace of consciousness.
He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy as mountains, only managing to squint them into a thin line.
He tried to reach out, but found his forearm was stuck in a rock crevice at an angle that violated joint structure—semi-coagulated blood plasma wrapped around his entire right arm, the metallic taste seeping into his nostrils.
His body was pinned under rubble, and his torso had long lost all pain feedback.
Am I going to die?
A wave of panic rose in Norris's heart—the instinctive fear of death that all living beings possess.
But then memories flashed before his eyes like a carousel.
Debt collectors mercilessly taking his last copper coin, looking at him like a dying, struggling prey;
All kinds of adventurers bullying him for various whimsical reasons while he could only retreat;
That person he'd caught stealing his money not only didn't return it, but found accomplices to beat him up together...
It seemed... ending this shit-like life wouldn't be so bad?
But for some reason, at the end of the carousel, there was a brief flash of that girl who'd wanted to stand up for him?
Before he could understand what this meant, Norris's thoughts began to scatter, his consciousness seeming to drift away in the void—he was about to die.
In his final daze, something seemed to stick to his neck.
A voice he'd never heard before suddenly appeared in his mind:
"Sorry to interrupt your enjoyment of death, but I just wanted to ask—still interested in continuing to live?"
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