Ah…

 

They look at me, somewhat perplexed at my silence.

 

“What?”

 

  “You’re not what I expected, honestly.” I say looking at the small, dark-haired person, creature, thing with deep eye bags visible beneath their woodland tanned skin that accentuates their red eyes. An imp? No. A fairy? No. Nymph? No… definitely not a human or an elf either. The dungeon-master is some kind of… I dunno. Person-thing. Humanish but not. Yeah.

 

They turn their head with an agitated ‘hmpf’ and sit back down on the chair with crossed arms. Opening an eye they tilt their head towards me.

 

“What a rude thing to say!”

 

  I answer “Uh… no, sorry. I just guess I assumed that the dungeon-master was this giant, cloaked figure sitting dramatically on a throne of skulls, tell you what. Like with fire behind him and a bunch of demons and minotaurs and all of that. You know? Also that he was a him and not uh, well, whatever. But just for the floor to be more like the entrance to… uh… wait. How are you here? Aren’t you at the bottom of the dungeon?”

 

  “Idiot!” A hand smacks the top of my head several times as they repeat the word, my body squishes down with each strike only to plop back up a second later as my goo reconstitutes itself.

 

  “Of course I’m not down there! My entire dungeon is ruined! This is supposed to be floor one-hundred and one but here I am on floor ninety! The goblins are on floor ninety-nine, they’re supposed to be on floor four! Goblins! Floor ninety-nine is supposed to be where the undead hydras are!” They turn away to look at one of the books floating by “JAMES! Get me a drink!” The book nods and flies off into the library.

 

They sit back down, leaning back against the chair with their head drooped back over the rest, with a forearm on their forehead and let out a long sigh.

 

“It’s all so tiresome.”

 

“Uh… are you alright?” I ask.

 

  The room is quiet for a moment as we both just sit there. Their chair creaks as they lean forward again all of the sudden, locking their fingers together and placing their elbows on the table in a thinker’s pose which their face is behind, as they stare at my drifting eyes.

 

“What took you so long?” they ask suddenly, their eyes locked onto mine.

 

“Huh?”

 

“What took you so long,” they repeat somewhat agitated.

 

“Uh…? What took me so long to what?”

 

An eye twitches behind the clasped hands.

 

  “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to start climbing up those stairs?! Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here, watching you goof off while my dungeon falls apart! Like, I wasn’t even watching anymore when you found the first staircase. One of the books actually had to wake me, because something finally happened! Right Charlie?!” As if for emphasis, one of the books floating by stops to nod before moving on.

 

“You were asleep for that?” I feel a little disappointed.

 

  “Shut up!” the small hands pound the table. They look away in a huff again “I get tired fast, okay? Management is harder than you think. Especially with such mediocre employees!” they point in my direction.

 

Looking around I wonder who they mean. Oh. Wait. My eyes roll back towards the face that is now even more annoyed by my confusion.

 

“Do you mean m-

 

“YES I MEAN YOU!”

 

  My goo spreads wide and flat, smushed much like my sense of accomplishment. The first book returns, a long dark-green bottle perched on top which the dungeon-master grabs and rips the cap off of before taking a long, bubbling gulp out of it.

 

“But I’ve been trying my best though.”

 

  They don’t stop their drinking, still opting to take another few chugs before lowering the half empty bottle with an almost comical ‘ah!’ A face lowers itself towards me, now only an inch away from mine. I can taste the burn of the alcohol on their breath as it touches my goo.

 

“Your best?” they ask almost dumb-founded.

 

“Yeah,” I say rather indignantly.

 

  “Please! Your total kill count is like… six! AND FIVE OF THOSE WERE OUR GUYS!” the bottle slams against the table again, red splashing out of the neck; the droplets hitting their face and mine.

 

  “Oh wait. No. You also killed about a million of my spiders that one time too! Seriously?! That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen! Right, Madison?!” another book floating by nods before it keeps moving on.

 

“It worked, didn’t it?” I ask.

 

  They rest their chin on the table, a blank expression on their face and poke a single finger into my goo. Nobody says anything and we sit there for a while like that. It’s rather awkward.

 

“I saw the slime-girl thing,” they say suddenly with a smug grin.

 

“You did?” I ask, feeling a new nervousness.

 

  “Yeah. You really did your best, huh? Hey Madison!” they call out again, the book stops and turns back again a second time. “This is the slime-girl guy!” All of the floating books now stop and turn towards me, some even poke themselves out of the shelves as if to look. I’d swear some of the darker covers shift to a red tone. The one in particular she spoke to quickly flies off in a fluster, vanishing into a far away shelf. The dungeon-master laughs. I quickly change the topic as fast as I can, feeling rather watched.

 

“So what’s with the secret stairs anyways?”

 

“Huh?” They look at me still dumb-founded.

 

“They’re the emergency exit in case of a fire. You know how it is, government regulations being what they are.”

 

“Uh?”

 

  “They’re a way out! I made them for you to get out of the dungeon, dummy! What do you think they are? They’re stairs and they’re secret. It’s in the name!” they hit the table again.

 

“Okay, but why are they there?”

 

“So you can get out of the dungeon, aren’t you listening?”

 

“Why do you care if I get out of the dungeon? Don’t I work for you down here?”

 

“Unfortunately, as of this moment, yes. But because I want my dungeon to be back like it used to be and the only way that’s going to happen is if you fight your way out fair and square, that’s what’s gotta happen. That’s what the arrangement was,” they say with some annoyance, their face quickly turning red from the alchohol.

 

“Not sure how that works, but can’t you just make me a staircase directly to the surface?”

 

The finger pokes deeper inside of me, touching one of my new eyes.

 

“No, that would be cheating and that’s how we got into this mess to begin with, isn’t it?”

 

“Is it?”

 

  They sigh and lean back again on the chair and look down into the bottomless pit beneath us. Grabbing the bottle they take another gulp, then pour one out into the void.

 

“Look,” They say in a rather monotone voice.

 

  “I’m not supposed to talk to you about this stuff, I’m already gonna get in trouble for the eyes but I think we’ll get away with this one since you’re going to die soon anyways and you getting them didn’t technically give you any progress.”

 

“Uh, I’m going to die soon?”

 

  “Oh yeah. There’s a really sweaty elf running around back there right now. I mean, really sweaty. Slick as a slime. She really has the hots for you, huh? Must be nice. Man, we were watching the whole time when you were a cultist. Snacks and everything! There isn’t a lot of romance in the dungeon these days, you know?” They sigh and lean back, looking up to the ceiling dejectedly. Several of the books passing by droop down low as well. “I was really rooting for Phil to get the girl… what a waste that whole arc was.”

 

“I don’t really know what her problem is either honestly,” I interrupt. “I don’t know a lot of things,” I add on.

 

  The dungeon-master looks forward and leans in, nudging me with an elbow and a sly expression; a red on their cheek from the wine setting in “Oh, come on, we’re all eternal prisoners here. For now. Don’t act like you’re too good for it. I get it! You have my blessing, she has those crazy eyes, you know? That’s a good thing! Take a week off, have a little squirm and give us something to watch!”

 

“Uh… didn’t you just say you wanted me to leave the dungeon?”

 

“I’ll make an exception for a while if you make it memorable!”

 

  Leaning further towards me they whisper into my goo. “Look, just between you and me I actually still have the slime-girl drawing,” they nudge me again knowingly. “Eh? Eh? Most of them I just throw into the void once you die.”

 

  I look around at the papers scattered over the table. Drawings of places and creatures fill each sheet. A drake surrounded by magma. An old goblin in the arena. Are these my respawns? Wait. I feel the elbow still nudging me. I come to a sudden realization. The dungeon-master is kind of a sleaze-bag when they’re drunk.

 

“Is this workplace harassment?”

 

“You aren’t working right now, so no.”

 

“I don’t think that’s how it works, guy.”

 

“Shut up. Don't call me that! I make the rules here!”

 

“Are you qualified to be a dungeon-master?” I ask.

 

  “Are you qualified to be a dungeon-master?” they mimic in a childish tone, taking another swig of the bottle now already almost empty. “Shut up!” Their face is quickly blushing with a warm red tone as the liquor sets into their small frame. “I was literally doing this before you were born and then some. Everything was going great! We had one of the best dungeons around, none of the others could keep up with us! We were the dark-lord’s favorite! We had our own anti-hero-party and everything! The only dungeon in the whole world with its own anti-hero-party! Do you know how jealous the other dungeon-masters were?!”

 

  “That was until someone decided to ruin it all for everyone,” they slam the almost empty wine bottle down into me where it floats suspended, before furrowing their brow and placing their chin back on the table to stare at my floating, gribbly eyes.

 

“Do you mean me?” I ask.

 

The dungeon-master doesn’t respond, rather they just stare at me and let out a long protracted ‘mmmrgh’.

 

I look around the library, trying to gather my thoughts.

 

“So the lance hero was… an anti-hero? Whatever that is.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“And the purple robed cultists are sort of his fan-club?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“And he did something he shouldn’t have so the dark-lord punished you, as the dungeon-master, by time-holing the dungeon until I, specifically, manage to escape the dungeon through sheer hard work.”

 

The dungeon-master plants their forehead on the table and groans again a fourth time.

 

“I don’t get it.”

 

  They look up, a tired in their eyes. “You really are dumb. Aren’t you?” They sigh and grab a book floating by and drunkenly whisper into its pages while looking at me out of the corner of their eye. The book nods in agreement with the whispers, the pages flapping around as if they were having a secret conversation. “You think?” asks the dungeon-master incredulously, still looking at me. The book nods and they both laugh, the dungeon-master’s cheeks and the cover of the book both turning redder than before. I can’t help but feel like their humor is at my expense.

 

  “Look, come back next time and we’ll talk more. I’ll make your next respawn in the library so it should be quick. You get one freebie since you just found the floor. Unless you want to think about my offer! Eh?! Just let me know and I’ll make arrangements, you pervert!”

 

“Wait, I feel like you’re the one bei-“

 

“Ah, well, would you look at that! There’s no more time to talk, your ride is here!” says the dungeon-master pointing with a thumb to their right.

 

“Huh?”

 

  I turn my goo over to the side and look at the wide-eyed elf walking through the opening in the shelves, a dagger scraping along the wood. Man, she really is sweaty. Seeing me, her eyes go wide and she waves from the distance across the gap with a happy expression, the bloody knife in her hand, a spark of crazy in her eyes and a grin on her lips.

 

“Honey!” calls out a happy voice from the other side of the bottomless pit we still float over.

 

“Ah,” I say, understanding.

 

  An elbow nudges me again. “Take one for the team! Come on, do it for me!” whispers the drunken dungeon-master into my goo, the books behind them nod in ready agreement.

 

“Aren’t you mortal enemies or something?” I ask uneasily.

 

“What? Why would you think that?”

 

“Because she’s with the hero-party? Because she's been killing me?” I say pointing to the elf.

 

“Huh?” A single finger pokes back into my goo again.

 

“You idiot. She’s one of the anti-heroes. Have you even been paying attention?”

 

“Huh?” I look over at the elf still smiling and waving with both hands towards me, feeling bad for her just standing there alone I awkwardly wave back and she glows with excitement seeing my response.

 

"The killing you thing is your own personal beef, I've got nothing to do with it," they add on.

 

“But she’s trying to stop me from leaving the dungeon?” I ask.

 

“Yeah, well, the heart wants what the heart wants,” says the dungeon-master leaning back with a smug grin, waving one hand. “It’s not my place to stop it, you know?” they say holding the other palm to a red cheek as they look at my unnerved, squirming form. “If she wants to turn the dungeon into an eternal love-fest well then at least we’ll have some fun around here again! Right ladies?”

 

All the books floating behind them nod in agreement.

 

“I feel like your priorities are mixed up here,” I state.

 

  “Huh?!” They look at me somewhat scornfully. “You brat! Not all of us are as lucky as you are, okay?!” Their eyes narrow. “At least you get to walk around. At least you get to move and explore and do things! I just have this table. Just this pit and my drawings and you all to watch forever! Nobody is chasing after me trying to shower me with love and affection! Nobody wants to love me!” the dungeon-master proclaims smashing the table with their fists. Reaching towards me they yank the wine bottle out and empty the last gulp. One of the books leans against the dungeon-master’s shoulder comfortingly and they grab hold of it and sob aloud. The drunken state sets in a moment later and they wrap their arms around the book entirely in a tight hug and begin to wail.

 

Ah. Awkward. I turn back towards the elf, who is now making her way across the bridge of books building itself up for her.

 

 

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