Chapter 16: A Table for Two and One Tiny Sentinel

The restaurant nestled within the lively marketplace of the Bottom Lair hummed with a comforting energy.

Sweet scents drifted through the air—freshly baked pastries, caramel-glazed buns, honey-drenched rolls. The place brimmed with chatter and warmth, waitresses gliding between tables with practiced grace, offering smiles as easy as the sugary treats they carried.

Players filled every corner, their relaxed laughter mixing with the faint clinking of cutlery and the occasional pop of a soda bottle being opened. It was a pocket of calm in a world that often demanded too much.

At a table tucked near the corner, Noah sat casually, shoulders relaxed, his posture loose like someone who had finally stopped running.

Across from him, Eve had chosen her human form again—currently staring at nothing like the room owed her an explanation.

Noah took a bite of the warm sweet bread resting on his plate, teeth sinking into the soft, cinnamon-laced crust. He chewed, nodded slowly. Approval written all over his face.

Perched on his shoulder, the Clockwork Familiar twitched. Its small metal limbs clicked gently against his tunic, and its singular red eye pulsed softly like it was breathing light.

It scanned the room in slow arcs, always moving, always watching, like a tiny sentinel with trust issues.

Noah reached up and tapped its shell lightly, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

"Should I name it?"

[Don't give a name to something you'll toss out the second you find a shinier model. Trust me, I'm saving you from heartbreak and regret and, like, a midlife crisis.]

Noah smiled at the Clockwork Familiar, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his lips as the little machine twitched its stubby legs.

It shifted slightly, its glowing red eye blinking once as if confused by the sudden affection. The thing didn't purr or beep, but it gave off a strange warmth just by sitting there, like a loyal pet with laser vision.

"I dub thee… Robocrab. You better earn that name."

[Wow. Groundbreaking. Truly, history was made today.]

Noah shrugged, unfazed by the sarcasm humming from the other side of the table. He turned toward Eve, who still hadn't moved an inch. Her eyes were distant, yet focused, as if she was mentally calculating the structural integrity of the furniture or trying to psychic-punch the table into submission.

"Come on, just take a bite. If regret had a flavor, this would be the opposite."

Eve narrowed her gaze, slowly shifting her stare from empty space to the slice of bread on her plate like it had personally offended her.

[You blew your final gold coin on sugar and dough. I hope it comes with a refund policy—for your decision-making skills.]

Eve finally moved, lifting her spoon with deliberate slowness. She carved a neat portion from the sweet loaf in front of her—a golden, sugar-glazed slice that oozed with honey along the edges.

She brought it to her mouth without expression, her eyes locked forward as if judging the entire concept of food itself. The bite was small, precise, clinical.

Noah watched her, a grin already spreading across his face like sunlight slipping through morning blinds.

"Delicious, right? And filling."

[We guides don't need food to keep going. And eating just for fun? Highly inefficient. But… I'll admit this doesn't offend my taste sensors.]

"I know right? This kind of thing's a rare treat. Back home, it's always instant noodles. Zero time, zero help, just me, a microwave, and the crushing silence of solo dinners."

[Noah, your stats aren't going to level themselves. Stop stalling and open the panel.]

"Alright, alright. Can I enjoy the sugar rush first?"

Noah sank deeper into his chair, the wooden frame creaking ever so slightly under his weight. Around him, the restaurant carried on as if insulated from his world—forks scraping plates, muffled chatter, the occasional burst of laughter rising like bubbles in soda.

No one gave him a second glance. Even if someone tried to peek, all they'd see was a young man staring at nothing, his gaze locked on something only he could see.

With a thought, he summoned the familiar interface. Light bloomed quietly in the space before him, assembling panels with elegant precision. Each stat floated in clean rows, pulsing gently with the soft glow of potential waiting to be spent.

Noah looked at his current stats.

•••••

LEVEL: 2

HP: 30/30

MP: 40/40

SP: 20/20

[STATS]

CONSTITUTION: 3

INTELLIGENCE: 4

STRENGTH: 2

DEXTERITY: 4

AGILITY: 4

AVAILABLE STAT POINTS: 12

•••••

Eve placed her spoon down with a faint clink, the sound sharp against the soft ambiance that lingered in the space around her.

Her plate still held half of the sweet bread, barely touched beyond the small bite she'd taken earlier—now abandoned, as if the analysis running through her mind had taken priority over everything else.

[I would highly recommend you start paying more attention to your Agility and Intelligence stats. Your aim's already spot-on, so you can afford to ease off Dexterity. But you're still moving like you're underwater during a nightmare, and Agility not only boosts your movement speed—it also scales the base damage of your flintlocks. And let's not ignore the red-eyed battery leech clinging to your shoulder. That thing's going to chew through your Mana like candy. If you want to keep up, Intelligence needs a serious boost.]

"We're on the same page, then. Our brains must be syncing. Next thing you know, we'll start finishing each other's—"

[If that ever happens, I'm initiating a factory reset on both of us.]

Noah stared at the floating stat window, the soft glow of the interface casting a faint shimmer over his eyes. Each stat line blinked patiently, waiting for his decision like quiet doors begging to be opened.

He dragged the first set of points toward Agility—five in total. As he confirmed the change, a subtle pulse ran through his limbs, like someone had oiled unseen gears in his joints.

His muscles didn't twitch, but something underneath responded—a lightness, like his body was now a little more in sync with his thoughts.

Next, he slid four points into Intelligence. The effect was stranger. A gentle hum filled the back of his mind, not quite sound, not quite sensation. Like someone had quietly unlocked extra shelves in his brain and whispered, You'll need this soon.

Then came the final three—one each into Constitution, Dexterity, and Strength. Minor shifts. Bare ripples in his form. But they were there.

He could feel them even while sitting—the quiet confidence in his posture, the slightly firmer breath in his lungs, the whisper of control in his fingertips.

The changes weren't dramatic, but they were immediate. His body and mind felt just a little more like his own. Like a version of himself, slightly tuned up, like someone had reached in and turned the dials just right.

Eve rose from her seat with smooth precision, her movements quiet, efficient—as if wasting effort on anything unnecessary was beneath her programming. Her plate still held more than half of the untouched sweet bread, yet she looked perfectly satisfied.

[I am finished. And judging by the crumbs scattered around your plate, so are you.]

Noah pushed his chair back and stood as well. His plate was spotless, practically polished clean, the only evidence of its previous contents being the warm glow on his face and the lingering taste of sugar on his tongue.

"Now, for the next part. I've got my gear in order—nothing fancy, but good enough to survive another swing at the monsters. What I need now... is a proper crew. People I can count on. The second floor isn't something I'm walking into solo."

[Do you have someone in mind?]

A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips, the kind that spoke of certainty, not hope.

"Of course I do. Just one name. The only one that makes sense. And he's exactly the kind of person you want watching your back."

He pulled up his friend interface, a sleek menu that popped into existence with a soft flicker. There was only one name listed. A single, shining entry like a lighthouse in fog.

Noah tapped the call button.

The connection didn't even take a full second.

The screen lit up.

Noah's grin widened.

"What's up, my big guy, Dimitri."

•••••

NAME: Noah Smith.

CLASS: Gunner.

SUBCLASS: Gunslinger.

GOLD: 0

LEVEL: 2

HP: 40/40

MP: 80/80

SP: 30/30

[STATS]

CONSTITUTION: 4

INTELLIGENCE: 8

STRENGTH: 3

DEXTERITY: 5

AGILITY: 9

•••••