Chapter 22: What They Don’t Know, Part 4

My expression contorted into a frown as I opened the fridge. The light flickered straight in my face. The reaction I had was not only because of the beam coming directly into my eyes but also because the fridge was mostly vacant. There was an empty bottle of milk in the back, as well as some canned tuna, beans... and whatever else was decent and affordable from the grocery store.

I opened the tuna can and stabbed my fork into it while leaning on the counter. The living room and the kitchen were connected, so I could see the TV even from here, chewing on my food.

My screws were still turning, but working as much as I've done up until now won't be possible if I enter Artemis. I stood no chance of surviving in that place unless I was fully engrossed in studying. Even then, I knew I'd be struggling at the bottom.

"Maybe I should've taken Harold's offer..." I muttered, then swallowed forcefully. "No way I just considered that..."

Harold was simply trying to mess with Connor and Reyna. He didn't care about me, and who knows what would've happened if I had placed my fate in his hands. He might've dumped me after crushing the relationship between me and those two.

I wasn't so gullible as to believe his offer was real.

Asking Connor for a job was also out of the question. That would've been the same as admitting that everything I've told them has been a lie. That I couldn't do everything on my own, although telling them otherwise.

I dug the fork deeper into the tuna.

If I took advantage of them now, I'd do it again and again. Things would never be the same. I couldn't handle the thought of becoming someone that'd take advantage of their friends' position. It was terrifying to even consider how much that decision would affect our relationship.

And if it hadn't been for the constant visits those siblings paid me when I was lying in a hospital bed alone, I would've—

I wasn't willing to exchange everything we had just for some momentary relief, or so I reasoned as I shook my head.

They have already done far too much for me. I would never bring up my financial problems as long as I had a chance of succeeding, no matter how slim.

Working multiple jobs was enough to get me by, yet that might change soon. There was only so much I could achieve by gritting my teeth and moving forward.

"Why did things have to get so complicated..."

Over the last few years, I've bounced from one job to another, always trying to make ends meet. Then, every time I got inside my empty house, I would consider my following course of action. Precisely as I am doing right now.

"If only that Overflow never happened," I whispered as I dug my fork once again into the can, only to realize it was empty as I hit its bottom.

Despite having only eaten, I was still hungry. A lot more than I was before I opened the fridge.

I drank some water from the faucet, hoping to fill my stomach. As I passed by the dining table, my foot brushed against a bag. It didn't hurt because it was full of clothes. It was also pretty large since it was the one I used during the period I've been a porter. Big enough to carry around rations of canned food, alongside water, medicine, and some clothes.

After everything was over and they retrieved most of their personal belongings, Logan and the others allowed me to keep it as a souvenir of sorts.

I unzipped it, stretching my hand through the clothes until I came across a plastic bag with my fingertips. There were some monsters lingering in the 4th Districts, despite most of them being slaughtered by hunters, so traveling there without the means to defend yourself was a bad idea.

A porter was not permitted to enter unless accompanied by a party. If I talked with Logan, maybe, just maybe, I'd get another chance to visit that damned place. That was my only option. I'll talk things with him later, but first I had to be sure I was capable of following through with the proposal.

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I was well aware that I wasn't negotiating from a position of power, so I had to sweeten the deal, somehow.

The dagger's blade was twisted, and its edge had gotten dull. That was easy to see through the plastic bag. Worse, despite my attempts to keep it clean, I could see a bit of rust eating the handle. The crack between was filled with blood, rendering it useless.

I'd rather use my own hands than rely on a weapon that'll undoubtedly betray me later down the line. I threw it away into the trash can, knowing I couldn't use it again.

"I am so lucky..." I grumbled as I washed my hands thoroughly, still feeling dirty despite not touching the dagger directly.

Ordinary people, unlike hunters and their magical abilities, had to be extremely cautious unless they wanted to get infected with a monster's pathogens. I'd rather not have any fur grow on me, or possess the eyes of a fly as a result of some mutation if possible. Anything along those lines was unacceptable—which could only happen if I lived long enough for such changes to emerge, rather than succumbing as a result of an injury (like everyone else does). On the other hand, keeping the dagger in a plastic bag instead of immediately disposing of it after I had used it was pure hypocrisy on my behalf. I should've just abandoned it when I had the chance, instead of hoping to preserve it only to entirely forget about it later.

There was no need to be concerned as long as the pathogens did not enter your bloodstream through an injury. Going to the hospital after would be too late. I knew that fact too well, unfortunately.

As a result, scientists devised a cure. That didn't mean our party could afford it, though. We were obliged to buy a generic drug called clarinadryl instead, which is designated to enhance your immune system so that it could fight the foreign bacteria those monsters brought into our world.

Theories those monsters came from different planets have lingered around for a while, which also explained why they evolved differently compared to humans due to the drastic environments they lived in.

I had to agree that sounded rather logical but dismissed it eventually, considering it was a rumor at best, not backed by any scientific data.

Some believe dungeons are merely a punishment for mankind's greed. Or those who worship different species of monsters.

"All kinds of freaks out there..."

I searched through the bag's pockets, but the object I was looking for was nowhere to be found.

"Where is it...?" I questioned, my heart rate increasing gradually. "Where exactly did I put it?"

I flipped the bag upside down in frustration. There were even more bandages sprawling across the table. My eyes darted from one object to another until I found it.

I knelt and grabbed the box, only to frown as I felt how light it was.

"Empty..." escaped from my throat as I crushed the box in my hand.

My lip quivered as the most important element within my plan vanished. I hurled the bag to the other side of the room, unable to bear it.

Going to the 4th District without clarinadryl was out of the question. Hunters didn't have to worry about it, but just a scratch on an ordinary person and they'd have to spend their entire lives buried in debt, paying off the hospital's fees. I gritted my teeth as I reminded myself of that simple fact. 

Was there nothing that could go as I wanted?

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