The First Guest
598 Words
Chen Lin lay on the simple wooden floor, breathing heavily. The pain in his side had dulled to a throbbing ache. Warm golden light from the lanterns above soothed his body like sunlight after a long winter. He stared at the modest room — one counter, four small tables, and in the far corner, a tall, ornate golden machine that hummed faintly with inner power.
A single golden ticket rested on the counter, glowing softly.
He pushed himself up, wincing, and picked up the small crystal left behind by the dead monster. The moment his fingers touched it, a gentle understanding flowed into his mind — not harsh words or cold text, but clear knowledge, like remembering something he had always known.
This crystal was essential. The Inn could absorb it to grow stronger.
He placed the crystal on the counter. It melted into soft light and sank into the wood. The entire room brightened slightly. A new wooden shelf appeared on the wall, empty for now.
Outside the door, the sounds of the dungeon rift still echoed — growls, distant fighting, the occasional scream of another unlucky soul.
Chen Lin clenched his fists. The betrayal replayed in his head: Su Mei's cold eyes, Wang Teng's mocking laugh, the rough hands throwing him to the monsters. Rage burned, but he forced it down. He was weak right now. Rushing out would only get him killed again.
A soft chime rang in the air, like distant wind bells.
The wooden door creaked open by itself. A tall figure stepped inside, ducking slightly under the frame. He wore tattered black robes covered in dried blood and carried a broken sword. His eyes were sharp and wary, scanning the room.
"A sanctuary…" the man muttered, voice hoarse. "In the middle of a rift? Impossible."
He noticed Chen Lin and tensed, hand tightening on his sword. "You… are you the owner of this place?"
Chen Lin nodded slowly, trying to appear calmer than he felt. "I am the Host. This Inn is neutral ground. No fighting inside."
The stranger stared for a long moment, then relaxed a fraction. He limped to one of the tables and sat down heavily. "Then I'll take whatever food you have. And something to drink. I've been running for three days straight."
As if responding to the request, a simple menu appeared in Chen Lin's mind — basic broth, bread, and healing tea. He moved behind the counter and prepared them with ingredients that seemed to appear when needed. The act felt strangely natural, like he had done it a thousand times before.
When he placed the steaming bowl and cup in front of the guest, the man's eyes widened. He ate quickly at first, then slower, savoring every bite. Color returned to his face.
"Not bad," he grunted. "Haven't tasted anything this clean in weeks."
A small notification bloomed gently in Chen Lin's thoughts:
Guest Satisfaction increased. Reward: One Golden Ticket.
The golden machine in the corner glowed brighter. Chen Lin now had two tickets.
The stranger finished eating and leaned back. "Name's Zhao Feng. Bronze-rank adventurer. If this place really is safe… I might come back. Stronger monsters are gathering outside. You should be careful, kid."
Zhao Feng stood, left a few strange coins on the table, and walked out. The door closed behind him.
Chen Lin stared at the two golden tickets in his hand. The machine waited patiently, promising power, knowledge, and perhaps a way to grow stronger without rushing unthinkingly into revenge.
He took a deep breath.
It was time to spin.
- Writer
