I hesitated before turning off the road onto a faint dirt path. Swallowing my doubts, I limped past unkempt trees. Fruit was rotting on the ground, adding a sweet stench to the mixed scents of pine and my own sour sweat. Weeds had overtaken the trail in more than one place, but the occasional scuff in the dust suggested that the inn was still in business.

  Finally, I rounded a bend in the trail and an inn came into sight.

  Only an effort of will kept me from dropping to the ground and weeping right then and there. The front door hung off broken hinges, revealing a darkened interior. Most of the windows were shuttered, and those that weren’t covered appeared to be broken. A corral in the front yard was empty and in disrepair.

  “Well,” I muttered to myself. “It’ll be a roof over my head for the night at the low low price of free. I’ll take it.”

  With a sigh, I went to check if the water pump was working.

  “‘THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE BASEMENT.’ What the heck?” I read the note pinned to the front desk again. The message didn’t change.

  Other than the desk, the place was empty. All of the furniture in the large common room was piled against a door in the back. Dust and pine needles littered the floor, blown in from the broken front door that I’d wrenched free from the frame to gain entry.

  Even the shelves behind the bar were empty.

  Wincing, I gingerly limped up the stairs to check the rooms on the second floor. A cursory look indicated that sturdy furniture still graced the rooms, but there was nothing in any drawers or closets. Whoever owned this place had taken anything that could be carried and moved out.

  Leaning heavily on the banister, I made my way back downstairs. The mystery could be investigated later. There was fresh water from the pump out front and firewood stacked next to the cold hearth in the common room. Whoever had made the barricade must have thought the pieces were too lightweight to bother with.

  Once the fire was built, I took off my cloak and spread it out on the floor nearby. With a groan, I lowered myself to the cushioned surface. Why was it that getting off sore feet hurt nearly as much as walking on them?

  My right boot came off easily. I pulled off my stinky sock to find a few blisters and reddened skin. Aside from the fact that the stench nearly singed off my nose hairs, nothing worse than expected. I had good callouses, I’d just been walking for a long time.

  I had to cut the laces to take off my left boot. The smell was terrible. A mix of foot stink, the coppery tang of blood, and something rank. When I pulled the heel loose, I nearly passed out from the white-hot pain that lanced from my heel straight up to my groin. My whole body throbbed. With a gasp, I tossed the ruined boot to the side and took hold of my bloody sock and peeled it off, hissing curses the whole time. It took pieces of my skin with it.

  The wolves that had taken my horse had lost interest in me once they had secured their meal, but they’d taken my horse from me by dragging me off of him by my left foot. No blood had leaked out from the mangled leather, so I had hoped it was only bruises, maybe a sprain. But just my luck, the teeth had punctured all the way through my boot and the bite appeared to be festering. Walking on it for nearly a day to find a safe place to rest hadn’t done the wound any good.

  I mourned the loss of the simple healing potion left in the saddlebags on my dead horse.

  Well, there was nothing for it. I wasn’t going anywhere until I recovered. Cursing through the pain, I levered myself back to my feet and hobbled out to the water pump, which was helpfully positioned right over the water trough for the decrepit corral out front. There had to be another source of water for the kitchen, but now that my shoes were off I wasn’t going to be doing any exploring.

  I propped my foot up on the edge of the water trough and worked the pump. When the ice cold water hit my foot, I screamed and nearly lost control of my bladder, keeping upright through sheer willpower and an iron grip on the pump.

  The wound steamed. Literally. Water hissed and boiled away from the ridged tooth marks and beet red skin that ringed my foot.

  Of course. Of course the bite would have some kind of curse on it. What kind of wolf in its right mind would pull me off a horse and ignore me in favor of a much more dangerous animal? A spirit beast, that’s what. One that was smart enough to know that becoming a man-eater would make the adventurers come running.

  I caught my breath and pumped again. And screamed again. And pumped again, and again, until the wound stopped steaming and went numb. Then I tipped the trough over, letting the tainted water drain into the ground so nothing could drink it.

  Running water could sometimes break curses. Hopefully, that would be enough.

  Stumbling with exhaustion, I made my way back to the fire and collapsed on my cloak. Not even my grumbling belly could keep me conscious.

  ***

  “Hello the Inn!”

  I was jolted from my fitful slumber by a shout and a whinny. My throat was dry, and it took two tries before I was able to muster an answer.

  “Hello! I’m inside!”

  A clatter came from outside, then a silhouette of a man blocked the door. I grunted and rolled to a sitting position, blinking in the dim light. How much time had passed? The fire was down to glowing embers. With some effort, I managed to throw more fuel on the embers with a shower of sparks.

  “Sorry I can’t be more hospitable,” I said to my unexpected guest. “I’m a bit indisposed. Also, there’s no furniture.”

  “I am here to investigate reports of screams nearby. Was that you?” A light, masculine voice replied.

  The man moved in from the doorway. Once he was no longer backlit, I could see a well-built warrior of about my age, wearing worn but serviceable armor. His left hand rested on the pommel of a short sword, and there was a shield strapped to his back.

  “Yes. Had to clean that. It was unpleasant,” I answered unapologetically. I waved at my swollen foot.

  “That looks nasty.” The young man frowned. “I see why you stopped here. Do you need a healer?”

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  “I have no way to pay for one. Wolves got my horse, and with him all of my things,” I said. A sudden surge of vertigo made me slump. I swallowed several times.

  The young man brightened and stood up straight. “I just got a Quest! Thank you, Innkeeper! I’ll find your lost belongings right away!”

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about? I’m not an Innkeeper, I’m just a traveler that stopped for the night,” I said.

  “You’re in an inn. You gave a quest,” the man replied, as though the facts were self-evident.

  I was long past the age when most people got their classes. Puzzled, I pulled up my Status Sheet, which I hadn’t bothered to look at in months. As a Classless errand runner, it never changed so there wasn’t much point:

  “How in the heck…” I wondered aloud.

  The young man shrugged. “Who knows? The System works in mysterious ways. Anyway, my name’s Gavin. I can go get your belongings for you, but this place is supposed to be haunted. Will you be all right on your own?”

  “Oh. Yeah, there’s something in the basement. I heard it all last night. I’m pretty sure I know what it is, and I’ll be fine. If you could just get my healing potion and money, and whatever else you can find. I can’t afford to give you much, but it should be good experience for you,” I answered, still dazed and staring at my Status Sheet.

  I barely heard Gavin leave. He was so excited he whooped as he galloped away on his horse.

  A class! I had a class! For six long years I had roamed Teganthia, doing odd jobs and minor adventures, the sort of tasks someone without any System-assisted skills or augmented stats could accomplish. All the while, hoping to hit on the right combination of experiences to finally be awarded what many people achieved just by surviving to adulthood.

  And what a cool class, to boot! I could send other people out on tasks too dangerous to take on myself, or too tedious to want to bother with, and people would be glad to do them for System awarded experience and treasures! I hated traveling. Absolutely hated it. I’d have stayed in my hometown forever if my foster parents hadn’t kicked me out when I came of age.

  The System had rewarded my persistence the best way it could, and all I had to do was whip an old, haunted inn back into shape.

  Speaking of which, the creature in the basement had been locked in there for System only knew how long. It was a wonder the poor thing was still alive.

  I used my First Aid skill to examine the wound on my foot. It was infected, no surprises there. I put my boot on my good foot and gingerly hobbled out to the pump to clean the bite again, muffling my screams that time. Without any clean bandages I couldn’t cover it up, so I settled back down on the floor and waited for Gavin to return.

  ***

  “Here you go, Innkeeper! One healing potion, six days of trail rations, five gold worth of mixed coins, and a set of clothing. The rest was a complete loss,” Gavin said. He handed me one of my saddlebags packed with belongings. The saddlebag now had questionable structural integrity.

  I gave him eleven silver coins, figuring that a little over twenty percent of my money was a fair exchange.

  “Thank you, Gavin. Did you have any trouble on the road?” I asked.

  “No. I found wolf tracks and fur, but the wolves didn’t bother me. It was a simple retrieval. Sorry about your horse,” Gavin answered. He pocketed the money.

  “He was an evil bastard and one bite away from being sold to the knackers,” I answered. “That was a bad way for him to go, but I won’t miss him. May he have a happy afterlife kicking down someone else’s stall doors.”

  I raised the healing potion in a toast to my dead asshole of a horse, then quaffed it. The magic got to work right away. Nasty fluid drained out of my wound accompanied by a rush of warmth. The tooth marks closed, leaving ugly red scars behind. I flexed my toes with relief.

  “Ah, that’s the stuff. Now I can get some work done! All right, Gavin. Do you want to help me clear up this haunting?”

  “You bet!” he exclaimed.

  I rummaged in my luggage for a fresh sock. Now I had an odd number, which was annoying. I shoved my foot in my shredded left boot and laced it up, then stood.

  “I’m absolutely starving, but there’s a reason the wolves left those trail rations alone. Let’s solve this little ghost problem so I can see if there’s anything edible down there,” I said.

  “What do I need to do?” Gavin asked.

  “Step one, we need to clear the furniture away from this door. I’m not strong enough to do it by myself, so let’s work together,” I answered.

  As if on cue, the door rattled. Something slid along it from the inside, accompanied by a low moan. Gavin shot me a wide-eyed look. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Yes, yes. I hear you. We’ll have you out soon,” I crooned to the “ghost,” then said to Gavin, “It’s a miracle the poor thing is still alive. Let’s get to work.”

  We started hauling furniture away from the door. Most of it was intact, if a bit dirty. Gavin kept shooting nervous glances at the door we were clearing our way to, but once we were dragging the heavy furniture around, the noises stopped. I had him carry the last pieces to make a loose cluster of chairs and barstools in the center of the room.

  “Exorcising this ghost is pretty simple. Here, look at this,” I said, and gestured at the door. “What do you see?”

  “The doorway to a haunted basement,” Gavin answered promptly. He wiped a bit of sweat off his neck with a handkerchief.

  “So now I have to ask you a few questions,” I replied. “First of all, if it was a ghost, why didn’t it just walk through the wall?”

  “Um,” Gavin said. He stood there for a few moments, handkerchief still pressed against his sweaty neck. “Because it can’t?”

  “Right. Which means it isn’t a ghost,” I answered. “Ghosts are incorporeal. Even though poltergeists can touch things, they can still phase through objects at will. What does that leave?”

  “A demon?” Gavin suggested.

  At that moment, a screech emanated through the wooden door, accompanied by a thump. The young adventurer flinched.

  “Hmm. Maybe. But do you think a demon would be held back by a simple wooden door?” I asked.

  “Uh. A very weak demon?” Gavin said, sounding less certain.

  I unlocked the basement door with the key that I’d found on the counter near the note. With a flourish, I pulled it open to reveal a set of stairs with an irate black cat sitting at the top step. The cat looked up at me, glared past me at Gavin, and let loose a perfectly normal meow. I offered it my fingers and it sniffed me, then rubbed its face on my hand.

  Carefully, I picked the cat up. It, no he, accepted the gesture by leaning against my chest and purring.

  “You smell like smoked ham,” I told him. “Are you Old Scratch, locked in the basement like the devil you are? I’m sorry about that. Awww. Yes I am. What a sweet boy.” I turned to Gavin with the cat still cradled in my arms. “He must know I belong here. He’ll help me bake. Look, he’s making biscuits already.”

  The completely nonplussed expression on Gavin’s face made all the drawn-out suspense completely worth it. I beamed at him. Old Scratch bumped my chin with his forehead and continued making biscuits against my arm.