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The Goblin’s Pursuit

As Halric squinted at Zarin, curiosity clear in his eyes, he asked, “Hold on. You don’t seem to know much about the basics—like stats or guilds. How is that possible? You took down a Faceless, but you didn’t even know what your own stats were?”

Zarin tensed, realizing he had been called out. ‘Okay, stay calm,’ he thought. ‘I can’t let them know the truth.’ In some novels from Earth, people summoned from another place were demons or worse, and he did not know how this world viewed outsiders. He needed a story, and fast.

Taking a deep breath, Zarin leaned forward. “Well, I guess I owe you an explanation,” he said, trying to sound somber.

‘Alright, Zarin,’ he thought to himself. ‘Make it convincing. Keep it grounded.’ He crafted the lie in his head, drawing from the darker stories he’d read in the past.

“From the day I was born, I was in a prison,” he began. “They kept me locked away in a secret place, concealing me from the rest of the world.” I knew nothing about guilds, adventurers, or even basic stats because I never had access to that kind of life.”

As he spoke, Zarin observed their reactions. Halric leaned forward, eyes wide with shock, while Jorra tilted her head, intrigued but cautious. ‘Good. This is working. Now to keep it going.’

“It was brutal,” he continued, his voice dropping as he painted a grim picture. “They beat me almost every day, left half-dead more times than I can count. It was all I knew—recovering enough to survive the next time.” Zarin rubbed his arm for effect as if recalling old injuries, even though they didn’t exist.

‘Keep the details vague but believable,’ he reminded himself. ‘Make it sound bad enough that they won’t question why I don’t know basic stuff, but not too detailed to trip over later.’

Halric’s face twisted in sympathy, and even Jorra’s sharp expression softened a little. “That’s why I didn’t know about stats or guilds,” Zarin added, giving them a reason for his ignorance. “I never had the chance to learn. I didn’t even know the outside world existed until recently.”

Zarin hesitated momentarily, then pushed forward, adding more layers to his story. “There was another prisoner. He’d been there longer than me. He was… a friend, the only person who treated me like a human. He taught me how to survive.”

‘Make it emotional,’ he thought, carefully weaving the narrative. “One day, he found a way for me to escape. He stayed behind, sacrificing himself so I could get out.”

Halric looked visibly moved, nodding slowly as Zarin spoke. Jorra, still skeptical, seemed to ponder his words.

‘Alright, this is working,’ Zarin thought with relief, but he knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He still had to explain the quest he had mentioned to Jorra earlier. ‘I need to tie this all together…’

“The reason I’m out here now,” Zarin said, keeping his voice steady, “is because of him. Before I escaped, he asked me to find his daughter. He said she lived somewhere out here and wanted me to ensure she was okay. It’s the only thing I have to go on.”

Zarin paused, gauging their reactions. Halric’s face displayed empathy, while Jorra nodded slowly, possibly grasping a bit more.

‘Okay, I’ve got them,’ he thought, feeling his nerves ease slightly. ‘But I’ll need to stick to this story now. Any more questions, and I’ll have to stay consistent.’

“I promised him I’d find her and help her if I could,” Zarin finished, glancing between them. “That’s my quest. It’s why I’m traveling and out here at all.”

Jorra, who had been observing Zarin, finally spoke. “So that’s why you mentioned a quest earlier?” Her expression had shifted from suspicion to something closer to respect.

Zarin nodded, keeping his face serious. “Exactly. I’ve been searching for her since I got out, but it hasn’t been easy.”

Halric, visibly moved by the story, placed a hand on Zarin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Zarin. But if I can do anything to help, just say the word.”

‘Glad to have you on my side,’ Zarin thought, feeling a wave of relief. “Thanks, Halric. I appreciate it.”

Jorra smirked, her sharp eyes glinting in the firelight. “A hero with a mysterious past, a dark quest to find someone—interesting. You might prove more useful than I first thought.”

Zarin forced a chuckle, though the weight of the lie already felt heavy on his shoulders. ‘I need to be careful. I’ll have to come up with more details if they ask anything else,’ he reminded himself. ‘And I have to stick with the story about the quest. I’ve already tied that to my fake prison life.’

As the fire crackled and the night grew darker, Zarin allowed himself to relax, at least for the moment. ‘They believe me. For now.’ But he knew it wouldn’t take much to unravel the lie, and from here on out, every step would require even more caution.

He stared at the night sky, wondering how long he could keep up this act before the truth—or his luck—ran out.

---

The dawn broke over the horizon, casting soft light through the trees, but Zarin wasn’t feeling any of its warmth or peace. His eyes were heavy, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, as he sat by the smoldering remains of their campfire, trying to shake off the exhaustion clinging to him.

‘I barely slept at all,’ Zarin thought, stifling a yawn. The night had been far more complicated than he’d expected, not because of nightmares or worries about monsters.

It was because of Jorra.

The goblin had spent most of the night trying to “join” him in his bedroll, making every excuse to be closer to him. At first, it had been subtle—Jorra lying just a bit too close to him by the fire. But as the hours dragged on, she became more blatant in her attempts, inching toward him whenever he shifted away.

To make matters worse, Jorra had provided the bedroll he was using from a leather satchel she carried. The satchel itself had caught Zarin’s attention immediately. It seemed too small to contain everything Jorra had pulled from it—a bedroll, food, even extra supplies. Clearly, the satchel was a magical item, likely enchanted with some form of spatial storage.

When Zarin asked about it, curious, Jorra grinned mischievously.

“Oh, this?” she’d said, patting the leather satchel. “It’s called a Dimensional Satchel. It’s a rare and precious thing. Only the most skilled enchanters can make them.”

Zarin’s eyes lit up. ‘A magic item like that would be handy.’

“How does it work?” he had asked, trying to get more details.

Jorra had leaned in closer, a sly smile on her face. “I’ll tell you more… or better yet, I’ll give it to you.” Her eyes had glimmered mischievously. “If you lay with me tonight, I’ll make it yours.”

Zarin’s heart had skipped a beat—not in excitement but in panic. ‘Of course, there’s a catch.’

“Uh… well,” Zarin had stammered, scrambling for an excuse. “I’m still feeling pretty weak from the battle with the monster. I should probably recover first. Don’t want to push myself too hard, you know?”

Jorra had raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as though she knew he was deflecting. “Weak, are you? If you ever change your mind, my offer still stands.”

Zarin had nodded awkwardly and quickly shifted the conversation to something else, grateful she hadn’t pressed the issue further. But it hadn’t ended there.

After settling down for the night, Zarin had tried to find a comfortable spot to sleep, grateful for a moment of rest after the long day. But just as he closed his eyes, he felt something—or rather, someone—scooting closer to him. He peeked through his eyelids just in time to see Jorra subtly shifting her bedroll nearer to his.

“Are you cold?” she asked, her voice full of innocence, though her eyes gleamed mischievously in the firelight.

Zarin forced a strained smile. “Uh, no, I’m fine. Perfectly warm here.”

Jorra’s lips had curled into a sly grin. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m here.” She winked, clearly expecting him to take her up on the offer.

Zarin had sighed inwardly. ‘Great.’

As the night wore on, her attempts became less subtle. Each time Zarin moved to create some distance between them, she’d find an excuse to follow—" accidentally" nudging her bedroll closer or conveniently needing something from the side he had just moved to.

At one point, she had stretched dramatically and rolled directly into him.

“Oops,” Jorra had said with a grin, her face far too close for comfort.

Zarin had scrambled away, making up yet another flimsy excuse. “Uh, I think I’ll keep watch for a while. Can’t be too careful with monsters around.”

Jorra had pouted but hadn’t pressed the issue further—at least not at first. Zarin had spent the next few hours constantly shifting around camp, pretending to check the perimeter or fussing with the fire to keep his distance. Whenever he thought Jorra had given up, he’d feel her gaze on him again or, worse, see her scooting back toward him.

By the time the first light of dawn broke, Zarin felt like he’d run a mental marathon, making excuses and constantly staying on guard.

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