Disingenuous in Dungeon

Peter led me through the spiral staircase into the underbelly of the castle. He lumbered a few steps in front of me, holding up a torch to guide our descent. Each step produced a booming echo that made the torch’s flame-tongue quiver. His bulky, muscular form blocked most of the light from coming my way, so I had to be careful not to trip each time I took a step. My hand caressed the cool stone bricks encircling us, and I was glad that he was moving slowly. 

The further down we went, the more damp the air became. Dank, as I used to say when I was younger. The mortar allowed bits of moss to poke through and spread between the bricks like a subway through branching tracks. The air also turned a bit sour. To be honest, the moisture and smell reminded me of many locker rooms I spent my youth in.

I didn’t actually know what a dungeon looked like. I’ve heard of them of course, and I had a vague idea of what sort of fair Gina would be kept in. That’s part of what made me so worried. The spiral staircase took us down through five levels, which was obvious from the five wooden doors we regularly passed on the way down, numbered starting from 1 at the top and going to 5 at the bottom.

It took us a couple minutes to reach that bottom level. The door was as unassuming as the previous four: arched, two bright torches on either side, and a big numeral painted on it. The only difference was this door had two guards posted in front, each wearing armor so shiny I could see in the reflection me, Peter, and the stairway behind us. Upon seeing Peter, both guards relaxed from their active stances and stepped aside. Not like they could do anything to stop Peter.

It turns out a dungeon is just a prison. For some reason I thought it would be some sort of medieval torture chamber with crude metal instruments and cursed poisons or something. But no. Past the Level 5 Door was a long hallway with jail cells on both sides, iron bars forming striated walls, with the occasional torch dotted here and there. The only sound aside from Peter’s laborious breathing was water dripping from somewhere. To my surprise, Level 5 was empty.

Peter and I walked down the hallway as wordlessly as we were before. I was peering into each cell, trying to find some prisoner or out-of-place artifact. Anything interesting. But nothing. Just empty manacles and open cell doors. Because of how focused I was, I almost ran into Peter; he had stopped on a dime, facing into one cell in the middle of the hallway. 

I squinted. All the time in the dim light made my eyes adjust, though not by much. I thought this cell was empty too, until I saw a dark, amorphous blob inside, all the way at the back wall of the cell, camouflaged by shade. It lay outside of the radius of Peter’s torch. Yet our presence had disturbed it, because it shifted and groaned, and from the amorphous blob, which was a tattered cloak, popped out a head of gold-white hair with a pair of bleary emerald eyes.

“Gina!” I said.

Her eyes tried to focused on me, squinting and blinking against the sudden brightness.

“God? Is that you?” she asked. 

“No gods here,” said Peter, an atheist apparently.

She blinked some more until her vision was clear. Relief washed over her scrunched-up face.

“Daisuke, what are you doing here?” The relief didn’t last long as her face returned to scrunched-up concern. “No really, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” She crawled out of the shadows and into the torchlight.

“Peter here dragged me to the castle. I had an audience with the king. His wishes,” I said.

The creases on Gina's face deepened, casting parts of her face back into shadow.

“King Hinata? He spoke with you?” Her voice was a horrified whisper. She grasped the bars until her knuckles with white. “What… What did he tell you?”

I winced, which only made her despair worse.

“Well…” I said, “...the big takeaway was that he can help me train. For my fight against the Demon King. Which happens in three days.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to look into Gina’s sad, sad eyes.

“Don’t believe him…”

The words were so quiet that I thought I misheard her.

“Hm?”

“Don’t believe him.”

Now I couldn’t not look at Gina’s eyes. They were alight with fury, desperation, pleading, a maelstrom of emotions trying to get me on her side. To manipulate me on her side.

“This is my best chance to get my brother back—”

“LIES!" She lept at the bars, making them rattle against the hinges. The cacophony made my eardrums ache. Gina only stopped when Peter took a threatening step forward, arm cocked back at the ready. “He’s trying to trick you!”

“He’s a king, why the hell would he want to trick me?”

“I-I-I don’t know! But he is! He’s lying to you!”

I had never seen her so frantic before, like a caged animal.

“So you didn’t steal all that treasure then?”

She froze. Not a word, not a movement. Nothing but a petrified look.

“Daisuke… I… the…”

Gina burst out laughing. I saw the corners of her eyes leak tears.

“Come on, Daisuke! Ha ha ha ha! It’s my class! I’m a thief! What, you thought I was some Robin Hood typa gal?” Her laughs died down upon seeing my somber expression.

“Even giving you the chance to fess up, you’re still lying to me. I get it,” I said. “You’re desperate. But I’m desperate too. Chouji is waiting for me and I can’t miss a chance like this.”

“But you still need me. I’m your tutorial NPC, remember?”

“First, I highly doubt that. We’re at the royal fucking palace. This is where the best of the best reside. Tutorials don’t last up til the last level. Second, need you? Need you?”

Despite how cold it was in the dungeon, I began sweating.

“Everything you’ve led me to has been a dead end,” I spat out. “We went around visiting your ole pals, getting drunk, getting kidnapped. Half-Sword Dave didn’t even help us. And after our combat encounter with those goblins, I’ve never been able to level up because they kept running away from me! I’m still at level one!”

Now I was the loud one. But I didn’t care. All these thoughts and emotions I didn’t realize I had bottled up were now pouring out. Even Peter had taken a step back because of how awkward it was.

“And finally,” I yelled, “that doesn’t even make sense! Every other NPC in this game has shown the ability to freely choose! Yeah, they have roles like barmaid or store owner. But they all have personalities and decisions and, and, and all that stuff! You’re the only one who seems hellbent on staying with me and following me to the ends of this earth for this impossible goal. You said it yourself, every NPC has a backstory.” I pressed my face up against the ice-cold bars, making Gina scurry away. “What’s yours?”

The only reply was the ambient dripping water.

Maybe it was all the blood circulating through my body from the yelling, but pieces started falling into place in my mind. Why things felt off with Gina. Why she would be so unbothered with the idea of killing the Demon King so swiftly. Why she knew so much about not just this world, but the concept of Hell and life-service plans. Why she knew the features of my phone.

Why she would swear using Earth concepts.

It all clicked together. These puzzle pieces that I gathered without even realizing it. Realization dawned, and Gina could see it in my face. She shook her head subtly, desperately, trying to convince me, trying to convince herself.

But I looked at Gina and I saw the truth.

“You’re a Player.”