Welcome to the Inn

Darkness fell over the town like a sleepy blanket, and mist crept through the air. Here and there, warm glows peeked through windows, signaling that some folks were still awake. But for the most part, the town was deep in dreamland.

Bob and I walked down a dirt road, on a quest to find the inn… in which, we probably should've asked directions to before leaving Liam's house. Along the way, we passed a pair of night patrol guards. We gave them a casual wave. They gave us the kind of look you'd give someone wearing a swimsuit to a job interview.

Which, to be fair, we kinda deserved.

Bob still had on his casual shirt with that stupid cape, now decorated with stain of soup. As for me, i was still wearing my office shirt. It had holes. Scratches. It looked like i just getting out of blender.

I sighed, clutching the edge of the shirt with mild sorrow. This was the first one I ever bought with my own paycheck. Back then, I felt like a proper adult. Now I looked like a homeless people.

"Hey Bob," I said, nudging him, "we really need to change our clothes. People are going to think we're wandering scarecrows."

Bob sniffed. "Speak for yourself. This shirt is vintage," he said, proudly tugging at his shirt. Across the chest, in cracked bold letters, it read "Otaku Forever", complete with a questionable anime character giving a thumbs-up.

"It's vintage garbage," I muttered.

"At least this garbage is still in top condition. Yours looks like it lost a fight with a paper shredder.

We both snorted, the kind of laugh that sneaks out even when you're trying to look serious. Then we kept walking, two shadows melting into the fog like exhausted salarymen escaping overtime and pretending we had any idea where we were going.

"Why do you even want to stay at the inn? Liam was very kind to offer us a room. I feel bad rejecting them," I muttered, kicking a lonely little rock down the dirt road.

Bob didn't say a word. Instead, he pulled out his tiny, notebook, the one he treated like it held the secrets of the universe, and flipped it open.

"Look," he said, pointing proudly at a page contained all the checklist.

"This checklist was made for one purpose: to feel the thrill of adventure. Of course, I feel bad rejecting Liam's offer. But we're isekai protagonists now! We have to live outside the comfort zone."

He said it so seriously.

It's rare to see Bob this intense, except when he's assembling a rare figurine or mid-episode during an epic action anime. But… he had a point. We weren't just visitors anymore. We were in another world. Uncharted, magical, probably full of things that want to eat us. We had to prepare mentally, physically, and definitely emotionally.

"Okay, okay… I get it," I sighed. Then I looked around, frowning. "But where is this inn? I swear we've passed that crooked mailbox like three times. And if we bump into that patrol again, they're definitely going to think we're thieves searching the place."

Bob glanced around, shrugged, and then squinted at a crooked wooden sign we clearly couldn't read.

"It has a sign of a cup and a bed. I'm 1000% sure this leads to the inn," Bob declared with unshakable confidence.

We followed the road, hoping this wasn't another detour. After a few minutes, we found ourselves in front of a building that definitely screamed "fantasy inn." Two floors, wooden walls with patches of mold, and those classic old-style windows that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in years.

Several folks were stumbling out the front door like zombies. Judging from their red cheeks, wobbly legs, and off-key singing, they were clearly enjoying tonight's happy hour.

"Yep," Bob said, watching one of them hug a barrel. "This is the place."

Bob led the way, and I followed behind, just in time to see one of the drunk guys faceplant into a cow's water trough. A majestic dive.

As we stepped inside, we were immediately hit by the strong stench of alcohol mixed with something suspiciously burning from the kitchen. The inn's interior was… minimalistic, to put it nicely. Round wooden tables, each surrounded by worn-out round chairs, were crammed together.The walls of the inn were lined with hand-drawn landscape pictures, their colors faded and edges worn with time, as if even the art had grown tired of the place.

Several people were scattered about, some talking and laughing maniacally while slapping their thighs, others passed out with their heads on the table, and a few simply sipping their drinks in peace, surrounded by a fog of smoke.

Seeing this scene, I couldn't help but recall my first and only post-work drinking session back when I was a junior employee. My boss dragged me along with a few colleagues to some shady pub, insisting it was a "team-building exercise." I wasn't much of a drinker, so I stayed painfully sober, painful mostly because I had to witness my boss and coworkers dancing like drunked baboons. I still have the pictures saved on my phone. You know, just in case I ever need leverage during performance reviews. That night was both my initiation and my retirement from work-related social gatherings.

While I was lost in thought, I noticed a group of three heading up the stairs. Two women and one man. Each carried a weapon, an axe slung beside the man, a bow strapped to one woman's back, and the other held a staff and wore a pointy hat. They chatted and smiled with each other before disappearing around the corner.

"Hey Bob, did you see that group? They must be adventurers, right?" I asked, glancing to my side.

But the guy I expected to answer wasn't there.

Instead, he was already at the counter, striking a weirdly dramatic pose, one hand supporting his chin, the other resting on his hip like he was auditioning for a fantasy-themed magazine cover.

This guy…

I walked over to join Bob at the counter. A young lady stood there green hair with bangs that framed her forehead and long sides that reached just past her neck. She was smiling, but it felt a little… off. More like a polite mask than genuine one.

"To see a young lady owning an inn and still working late into the night is truly rare. You're one in a million," Bob said, laying on the charm a bit thick.

"T-Thank you," she stammered, clearly uncomfortable. "D-Do you want to stay overnight? It's 10 copper for one night."

"Yes, please. We'd like a room for two," Bob replied smoothly, then turned to me. "Hey, get the coins from the backpack."

The way he ordered me around like I was his butler made my eye twitch. I scowled, but reached into the bag we'd looted from the bandits. It still felt weird using stolen money, but I guessed it was fair game. I handed him the pouch.

Bob counted out 10 copper and passed it to the innkeeper. Then, without skipping a beat, he pulled out another five.

"This one's for your hard work," he said, sliding the tip across the counter with a wink.

"Thank you, sir," she said politely.

"Just call me Bob," he replied, tossing the pouch into the air with a flourish. I caught it mid-air without even looking. I really did look like his servant right now.

"Please follow me," the lady said as she stepped out from behind the reception counter, leading us up to the second floor.

On the way to our room, Bob went full-on chatter mode with the lady, whose name, we learned, was Tania. He fired off questions like a machine gun.

"Were you born here?"

"You live alone?"

"Isn't it tough running a business at your age?"

"Do you like cats or dogs?"

"Do you believe in parallel worlds?"

"Do you think pineapple belongs on pizza?"

Okay, maybe not that last one, but he was definitely working his way there.

Tania answered most of his questions with a simple "yes" or "no," wearing that same polite but totally uncomfortable smile.

Please stop, dude.

I glanced at Tania, silently pitying her. She looked like someone trapped in a cage with no escape in sight.

We arrived at our room. On the door was something written in this world's language, probably the room number.

Tania unlocked the door and opened it for us. As we stepped inside, the first thing that caught my eye was a vase sitting on a small table between the two beds. Inside the vase was a plant, but definitely not the kind I'd call normal.

It had a long, thick center, and branching out from it were petal-like structures shaped suspiciously like open mouths. It looked like a Venus flytrap on steroids, at least three times bigger than normal.

"Uhh… excuse me. What is that?" I asked Tania, pointing at the plant-like creature.

"Oh, that's a Mars Fly," she said cheerfully. "Don't worry, it's not dangerous. We use it to catch flies and mosquitoes."

Are you sure it only catches insects? Because I don't want to wake up tomorrow missing a hand. I thought.

I continued surveying the room.This room was plenty big for two people—probably around 20 square meters. Big enough to fit two beds with space in between, a small table, and still have room to walk without bumping elbows. The walls and floor were entirely made of wood. In some spots, the floorboards creaked suspiciously with every step.

There were two beds, each covered with plain white blankets. I pressed down on one, only to pause in confusion, was I pressing a bed or a table? It was hard.

"And this door leads to the toilet," Tania continued, guiding us through the rest of the room.

And this was the moment. This toilet would represent the standard toilet of this world. My heart palpitated with anticipation and dread. Then I saw it, there was a pipe that looked surprisingly similar to ones from our world. Alright, that was a relief.

But then… there it was. A wooden platform with a hole in the middle, sandwiched between two planks. I stepped closer and peeked into the hole, it led down into darkness so deep, I couldn't even see the bottom.

Don't tell me… that's the toilet.

No flush mechanism. Just a wooden lid to cover the hole.

"Tania, is this… the toilet?" I asked, even though deep down, I already knew the answer.

She nodded with that same smile. "Yes!" she said, a little too cheerfully. "Don't worry, it works properly," Tania reassured, still smiling. "We remove the waste every day."

That didn't exactly make me feel better. The idea of someone manually handling… that… every day just made the whole situation worse.

I glanced at Bob. He looked way too calm for this.

I stared into the abyss again.

Works for who? Cave people?