“Alright, you,” Pell said, directing his bony finger from the girl to the chair, “just sit down over there, stay still, and don’t move. Got it?”

  The little girl walked over to the chair he pointed at. She looked at it briefly, then turned back to face him. Seeing that he was still pointing at her, she reached out and grabbed his finger.

  “What? Hey! Let go!” Pell yelled. He tugged his hand back and heard a small snapping sound. When he looked at his finger, he realized that the little gremlin had just stolen his finger bone.

  “Hey! Give me my finger back!” Pell grabbed the girl’s hand, snatched his finger back, and reattached it with a satisfying clack.

  Annoyed and frustrated, Pell fixed a piercing gaze on the giggling little menace. She smiled at him, clearly enjoying his irritation.

  “Ugh, fine,” Pell groaned. He needed to distract her, or she’d end up running off with all of his body parts.

  The little girl climbed onto the chair as Pell walked past her toward the closet at the back of the shop. Disappearing for a moment, he returned with a family of dust settling atop his skull. In his hand was a large, hefty book.

  “Alright, here—read this,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. “Well… you probably can’t, but whatever. It’s got nice, pretty pictures. Kids like picture books, right?” he asked sarcastically.

  He placed the book down in front of her. It was a fiction novel called Bandit Town: The Hero Arrives. Although it was a full-length novel, it also contained many illustrations. The story was about a hero who arrived in a town full of bandits and… well, did whatever heroes did. The series had five entries, and this was the second book. Unfortunately, Pell could never find the first book being sold anywhere, so he refused to get the other entries.

  Pell took a close look at her. She appeared to be… 8, maybe 9 years old. Perhaps 10? He was never good at gauging the age of children. He always avoided the annoying brats and didn’t care enough to entertain them. For all he knew, perhaps the girl could have been 5 years old, and he was severely overestimating.

  He walked over to the counter and sat on his stool, glancing at the young, confused girl. She opened the book and began looking at the words and pictures. A flicker of agitation appeared in his eye sockets; the book was upside down. He turned away with a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

  Ever since he died on a dungeon expedition gone horribly wrong, his soul had been confined to the very dungeon that had killed him. Each day became a dull routine, filled with endless wall-staring. His hope that someone would come to save him dwindled with every passing day.

  But now, that hope may have finally rekindled, providing a spark to the matchstick that was his freedom.

  “Bo—bo—bo,” came the sound of the little girl. Her small eyes danced over the pages of a book Pell had just handed her.

  Okay, so maybe someone had sparked his match, but then promptly doused it by chucking it into the ocean—after giving him a kick to the sacrum and laughing at his undead corpse. Because that was exactly how he felt right now. Fate had sent him a savior—in the form of a small child with severe amnesia.

  “God… damnit!” Pell snapped, his face slamming skull-first onto his counter. Of all the people who could’ve wandered into the dungeon—an adventurer, a Paragon of War, hell, even a beggar—but no; fate sent him a child! The gods were playing a cruel trick, saddling him with a brat whose brain was more scrambled than a hen’s egg during a founding feast!

  Silence filled the room as the little girl stopped mumbling. Pell turned around to peer at her. She had placed the book down and was staring at him with wide, watchful eyes. His outburst had finally drawn her attention away from the book.

  “Do you even know your own name?” Pell asked. “Or how to access your status screen?”

  “Sta?” she repeated, tilting her head.

  Pell grumbled internally. But since he didn’t have internal organs, his grumbles were, unfortunately, audible.

  “How the hell did you even get in here? Were you used as bait by an adventurer party? Why would anyone use a damn noble as bait and not for ransom?” he mused, mostly to himself. She was a noble—no doubt about it. Her clothing was a clear giveaway. The lavish black robe that doubled as a dress, exquisitely made and uniquely designed. Most people wore simple tunics or dapper shirts, not something like what she wore.

  He slid off his stool and stood up. Grabbing the rusty metal sword from the counter, he turned toward the little girl. She was back to reading her upside-down book.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You stay here, brat. I’m going to sweep the halls and see if I can find your party,” he said.

  The girl didn’t even look up. Her eyes stayed glued to the book, completely engrossed.

  Pell ground his teeth in irritation, imitating the clicking sound of a tongue. Why must I be on babysitting duty? he thought.

  He was an old man. Well, not that old, but old enough to feel the creeping effects of age, that slow and everlasting curse. He was 44, solidly middle-aged, but the wear of hard work and stress had aged him beyond his years. Technically, he would be 48 now if he were still alive. But those days were long behind him—new skeletal body and all that. No need for muscles or worrying about “managing his health.”

  The shop was tucked into a recess of the long, flat hallway. It was easy to miss unless you were at just the right angle, deep enough into the corridor. It was small, barely three shoulder-widths across—just the right size for hiding from the other monstrosities. Well, a very specific rat-like monstrosity.

  He kept his sword at his side and left the shop, not sparing the little girl a single glance.

  The dungeon was a maze, a sprawling labyrinth of winding halls that intersected and branched off endlessly. Take one path and it could lead you to twenty more. That also meant a simple loop of three left turns could bring you right back to where you started.

  Ahead of him, a skeleton shuffled past a junction into another hallway, its broken sword dragging on the ground. Pell ignored it, walking right by the mindless creature. Damn vultures, he thought.

  First hall: nothing. Second hall: nothing. Third hall: Oh, look, it’s just another walking pile of nothing.

  Five agonizing minutes passed as he walked, completing a full lap around the blocked section where his shop was hidden. There was no one—nothing. Just the usual bone-headed skeletons and limping zombies, dragging their limbs as slowly as an adventurer with an arrow through their knee.

  When Pell returned to the shop, the little girl was still absorbed in her book. He opened the latch, stepped inside, and returned to his stool. He tapped his fingers on the counter, deep in thought.

  As long as I can keep her distracted, I’ll keep my sanity. She’s obviously here with some party, but whether she was discarded or just lost... bah, whatever. There’s no way they’d leave a noble girl behind, no matter the situation. Killing her off makes no sense when you can ransom her. Kidnapping 101, even a child from the slums knows that. They’ll probably come for her soon. Hopefully... they can finally free me from this damn dungeon.

  Pell frowned. It had already been an entire day. He’d been sitting at the counter ever since the little intruder showed up. She was a noble, so where were her guards? Mercenaries? Hell, not even a butler? Why hadn’t anyone come for her yet?

  His expression darkened as more hours passed, with no sign of anyone. The only visitors were the random skeletons and zombie dregs of the dungeon.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of the girl sitting at his table, still absorbed in his book. She noticed him looking and met his gaze with a confused expression.

  "Where the hell is your party? You’ve got some shitty guards if they can’t even clear a floor full of low-level undead," he muttered.

  She paused for a moment, then mimicked his words, "Shi—"

  "Don’t. You. Fucking say that word," Pell snapped. "You aren’t old enough."

  "Fu—"

  "NOT. THAT. ONE. EITHER."

  The girl giggled, ducking her head back into her book to hide her face from Pell's glare.

  Pell narrowed his eyes at her, then turned away. He could hear her mumbling something under her breath, but he couldn’t be bothered anymore.

  The past day and a half had been uneventful. The girl was still glued to the adventure novel, still holding it upside down. Pell found it both amusing and infuriating for reasons he couldn’t fully explain.

  Sometimes, he would try to talk to her, but every time he did, all he got was an attempt at repeating his words. Unfortunately, that included swear words.

  He rolled his eyes. He didn’t care if he swore around her, but if she started copying him? That was a different matter. If her noble family found out she was picking up curses from him? Well, he’d probably be tortured to death. Or un-death? Re-death? Whatever—death-death, he decided.

  He was practically a babysitter now. A child had been dropped on his shop’s doorstep, and now he was stuck looking after her. It was a fortunate coincidence that he still had almost an entire stockpile of rations—small preserved cans of meat and plenty of drinking water. Some of it was his, some from the dead adventurers he’d originally traveled with. It wasn’t just about keeping the brat entertained; he also had to feed her. He didn’t even want to remember the aftermath of helping her.

  What the hell was this? A daycare?

  Escaping the dungeon was all he wanted, but it wasn’t something he could do alone. Once he became undead, the dungeon core took control of his soul and bound him. He was trapped. Trapped in a four-year nightmare. Whenever he tried to ascend or descend the dungeon’s stairs, an invisible force would drag him back, as if he was cursed to never leave his post.

  Every dungeon had a dungeon core, hidden deep within. These were known as the dungeon hearts, the source of the dungeon's power. To claim the core was to claim the entire dungeon. In theory, Pell just needed to find it and claim it, and he’d be free—a free skeleton. The problem? He couldn’t even get close to the core, let alone fight his way to the dungeon core and take on the boss.

  Pell glanced back at the little girl once more. She was nodding her head silently, like she was listening to a bard singing a tune.

  Maybe if I teach her a few words, she might at least be able to pull up her status screen, he thought.

  It was clear he’d have to wait a while longer, especially considering the girl’s party hadn’t made a sound anywhere near him. They might be his last lifeline, his only chance at escape. Surely, they were still looking for her and hadn’t abandoned her. They couldn’t have just died off in a dungeon full of low-level undead.

  Right?