Little Man's Beard.
It was the name of the small town I was raised in. A town on the outskirts of Mettle Kingdom.
If I were to describe it from an outsider's perspective, it was a town overridden with gangs, and brothels. But from an insider's perspective, it was a town filled with very considerate people. People were very kind but that's only to those who were citizens. We... looked after our own so to say.
One could say... I was very blessed to have been born here out of all places but at the same time, very unlucky.
Towns like ours situated on the outskirts were always attacked by monsters or invading countries. It was always too late to receive help.
Among them, Little Man's Beard had lasted the longest, needing no help from the capital thanks to our strong adventurers and mercenaries. No matter how untrustworthy outsiders claimed us to be we could hold our shit down. But....
Even when the monsters were killed, the bad energy that lingered there gradually accumulates over the years, becoming miasma. A toxic gas similar to something like sulfur or radiation, miasma produced magic crystals, dungeons and monsters.
During the year I was born, there were mass reports of children being born with defects, a result from parents being exposed to the miasma. It sort of reminded me of Agent Orange.
But once again I was blessed. Little Man's Beard was cradled, situated on three large plateaus alongside Gnome Man's Mountain far out of reach from the festering small towns below.
Thankfully I was born healthy. Thankfully I was born here! Living a bedridden life was just too sad! It was probably the only thing I was thankful for in this crappy world!
Everyday I would pass by the wall overlooking the cliff below on my way to and back from work.
Sometimes I could make out tiny things scuttling about like ants. Sometimes wolves, sometimes tiny green peas. And sometimes our town's mercs and adventurers, a mixture of brown and black making their way somewhere.
But today, there was nothing but silver and red. The "Kingdom's" men. They scuttled about the forests below like silver fish.
The second our mercs discovered an old dungeon, they came in an instant. It wasn't uncommon for them to wander through here, they used our elevators as a shortcut to get to their destinations below.
The problem was that they were staying a bit too long.
Two elder women up ahead had the same thoughts as me.
"Damn Dogs, what are they doing here for so long?"
"Didn't you hear? That new dungeon they discovered is one dungeon in another dungeon."
"A-what?"
This new bit of juicy info had me running up closely behind them, I couldn't help shouting. "Oooh! Like a labyrinth?!"
They turned around with a start, I recognized them at once. Granny Janice and her sister.
Granny Janice's three cheek moles smiled at me. "Oh! Good Golly, Candy make some sound!"
"I did!"
Her sister, Anise, made a sour face. "A what?"
"A labyrinth! It's like a maze. I heard dungeons are like mazes so if there's a maze within a maze that makes it a labyrinth right?"
The two elder women paused to think before eventually nodding.
"Sounds right."
I walked in between the two.
"I heard it's deeper than they expected, there's tunnels running all about the place like an ants nest." Granny Janice gestured.
"And how do YOU know?"
"My son-in-law's an adventurer."
Anise pursed her wrinkly lips in disapproval. Perhaps remembering her own son and daughter who I've heard we're also in that field of work. "I've always hated ants and their damn nests, you never know what's safe to step on... you never what kind of ant you're dealing with."
"And you can't evict them." Granny Janice sighed.
I who was deeply intrigued by the whole idea of a labyrinth finally began to understand their meaning.
An ant's nest, there was once a man who doused one with gasoline hoping to get rid of them, he lit the nest aflame only for various spots around his house to light aflame. His neighbors watched him run around like a headless chicken trying to extinguish everything...
The dungeon had been there for so long a dungeon break should have occurred...but perhaps due to the terrain, it adapted, creating tunnels... there wouldn't be any-
I shook my head. It was a terrible thought. I dare not entertain it.
As we entered our corner of town, we overheard younger adults debating the belief that trees filtered Miasma from the air but others argued they were wrong. It's because of the nearby dungeons.
They went back and forth, and eventually the drunkard slapped his companion with his bottle of beer, the companion recovered in a split second and did the same. As the two went for each other's throat, I tilted my head with this new tidbit of info and went on about my day. Granny Janice and her sister tutted.
Places with dungeons always became popular, it was good for the economy... but also bad for families. If the monsters are too strong the warriors that go won't return home, not that I think our adventurers are weak...
But, nothing good lasts forever.
I tried not to pay much mind to everyone's whispers. My boss gave me some bacon in addition to my pay. I clutched my basket tightly.
Let's just live as we go!
"Ah!"
Granny Janice called out to me once we returned to our part of the hood, a row of sorry looking lopsided homes that looks like they were made from leftover materials, with mismatched fences.
She jutted her chin in the direction of my house. "Be careful, I heard her customers were from the capital."
Anise clapped her hands together as if suddenly remembering and the two told me of the news then.
I smiled while listening. Smiled and dipped my head as they entered their home. Smiled as I approached the door. My face felt stiff.
Like that my excitement crumbled as I opened the door to our house, a tiny wooden shack in a slum. I opened the curtain to Rowena's bedroom. it was three in the afternoon but she was still in bed.
According to Granny Janice and Anise, word was it one of the visiting soldiers from the garrison had nearly worked her to death.
I took in the human burrito underneath the sheets in the dark. She would have blended in if weren't for the trail of red sticking out at the top.
Red hair was a rare trait, the first founding queen of this nation was said to have been a redhead from foreign lands, so she was always popular. Ah, I mean of course because she was beautiful all the beautiful prostitutes at the brothel are paid a lot but this woman.... I felt a tinge of frustration flaring up but I swallowed it. If only she took advantage of her main selling point...
I took a jab at the burrito with my foot. "Oiiiiii. You alive?"
A groan could be heard.
Well, that's all that matters isn't it? I opened all the curtains in the house and prepared breakfast.
Fried eggs, four slabs of bacon, and some biscuits, I had made the previous day myself.
"Is that... bacon?" I heard Rowena's sheets rustle in the other room.
We lived in a tiny one-bedroom house. The living room and kitchen were in the same space, so the smell got to her quickly. (Our bathroom was a small outhouse we shared with our neighbors)
She came to the table on her own by the time I had plated the food.
There were bags under her eyes, and her skin was so pale. She was a beautiful woman whenever she left the house, with silky vibrant red hair that dazzled like a ruby but whenever she returned she was like this, a zombie, her hair thin and shriveled up like dried blood.
I politely smile before telling her, "Mommy, you look like shit."
Rowena's ghoulish eyes made contact with mine.
"Well, I've had some tough customers last night baby, its nothing I couldn't deal with of course." She puffed out her chest as if it was something to brag about.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Perhaps if I had lived with no memories of my past, she would have seemed like a hero to me. In our town, she was the second of the top five most popular ladies among the brothels. It truly would have been impressive- if all of those top ladies still lived in neighborhoods like ours. While they all moved uptown and slept less often with their clients- my second mother, this person, she gave her money to practically everyone.
The second and probably the most famous of the prostitutes, the Angel of the Slums is what others call her.
I couldn't help comparing her to my mother, unlike mom who was a widow, even though she was flirtatious and man crazy, she and my late father had pursued careers that enabled me to pursue other interests by the time I was born. In this life it was just Rowena and I. If she ended up dying on me due to overwork things would get complicated.
I plated my food and after thinking it over finally said. "There's no way you'll be able to last the week."
". . ." Rowena had made a sandwich out of her biscuits but when I said this she just paused to stubbornly nod, she wasn't listening. It was hard keeping up my childish way of speech whenever I got home.
I blinked twice at her before continuing.
"Why don't you quit? At this rate, either I'll wake up to find you dead or I'll have to become a prostitute myself to help with the medical expenses."
Agitation flickered across her face.
"What the hell..." She was too tired to slap me today, so she simply closed her eyes and resorted to feigning ignorance. "How old are you again?"
"I'm seven this year."
"Well baby, whether I die today or tomorrow, it doesn't change the fact that these customers are from the capital, and the tips are twice the amount than the pay I've normally received within the past ten years of my life. Wouldn't you think it a worthy sacrifice?"
I made an O form with my mouth. I have no idea how much she's been paid for her to be this suicidal. "That depends... will that money be given out to the whole neighborhood again?" I asked as I ate.
This earned me a glare. "Don't be selfish."
"You're the one being selfish," I muttered as I stabbed into my omelet.
"That sort of money could renovate the entire city." Life returned to her eyes as she lifted her gaze perhaps to some imaginary heaven.
I gape at her. "I had no idea you cared so much Mommy, have you ever thought of competing with the mayor's wife for her position?"
Rowena slammed her fork down on the table. Spittle and crumbs flying out her mouth.
"Just shut up and let me eat in peace!"
If she could yell, she'd be fine. Her serious condition didn't cure her stupidity.