Demo: Shadows in the Sewers
Project: Oracle DEMO (3)
You arrived at the lodging.
It was a spot not far from the headquarters, which had once been a theater.
The first floor was a restaurant, while the second and third floors held the guest rooms—a typical inn setup.
No matter how you looked at it, the facilities weren't great.
The room was cramped, furnished only with a bed and desk on the verge of collapse from rot.
Still... it was enough for a brief rest.
You checked the clock-shaped tattoo on your wrist.
The time, which had been set to 0:00, now pointed to 4:00.
Only four hours had passed, yet your body and mind felt utterly exhausted.
The moment you lay down on the bed, sleep seemed ready to claim you.
But the words of the mage who had invited you to this world held you back.
"In the game, you have 24 hours—two hours in real time."
"Normally, you'd respawn even if you die, but this is just a demo, so you'll automatically return to reality if you perish."
"If you want to quit midway, just shout 'status window' loudly."
"A force-quit button will appear there. Press it and you'll be out."
How many people had hit that quit button, I wonder?
For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge yourself.
It had been ages since you'd lived through such an intense day as a playwright.
But you decided against it.
"Art is peering into a single soul."
To you, this was a grand work of art.
Mary, the girl who had guided you here; the rowdy crowd in the inn's first-floor restaurant; even the one-eyed leader.
All of it formed one magnificent painting—a world unto itself.
How could the great playwright Dante Otter Dubois end such an overwhelming experience with his own hands?
You were personally dying to know the mind of the mage who crafted something this intricate.
Staying cooped up in this room would just waste time pointlessly.
You rose from your seat.
"Gotta check if there's anything useful down there."
Whether in this world or the real one, taverns attached to inns were where all the rumors flowed.
To borrow Yujin's words, Dante was the ENTJ type.
It was inevitable for his job: not just scripting scenarios, but directing actors' breaths, movements, and every second down to the precise timing.
That made him extroverted, with a silver tongue to boot.
He communicated with all sorts of performers and even wielded influence in noble society.
Thanks to that, Dante quickly bonded with a few folks drinking on the first floor, putting his skills to full use.
"That mage sure knows how to throw a party!"
It was Marcus, a former mercenary.
"It's money that'll just sit unused anyway. Order whatever you like."
"Hah! Haven't seen a generous soul like you since the city went to hell!"
All players started with initial funds: cog coins, the currency used in the Sanctuary.
Dante blew through his entire stash buying drinks for the first-floor crowd, earning intel in return.
"We're all scavengers here. We form teams in shifts, head into that godforsaken city every three days to scrounge for anything useful, and scrape by on that."
Marcus downed a lukewarm beer—long left out, foamless—in one go.
"But even that's drying up. We've stripped the nearby spots clean, so we push deeper... and now just coming back alive feels like a blessing."
"So you're planning to escape?"
"Heard that already? Well, you're with the council, so of course."
Escape. To Dante's eyes, this community's fate was all but sealed.
Resources weren't infinite, and clearing an area didn't guarantee safety.
If they couldn't fully purge the monsters beyond the fog in the ruined city, abandoning the Sanctuary was the best call.
"That's got everyone on edge lately. 'Phaeton Leader' wants to hunker down here instead of bailing."
Phaeton. Probably the name of that one-eyed leader from earlier.
Dante committed it to memory and pressed on.
"I also heard about the upcoming operation to retake Industrial Complex B."
"Yeah, that says it all, right? Why bother reclaiming turf if we're escaping?"
"What's there?"
"What else? Weapons. The Sanctuary's just Complexes A and C. B got overrun by these giant spider freaks. Ammo's short lately, sure... but after linking up with you mages, do we really need to risk it...?"
This was higher-grade info than expected.
Dante went all in, confirming everything on his mind.
In exchange, Marcus scored five more beers, and soon his buddies joined, chiming in one by one.
"Mana rifle? Don't mages use guns?"
"Kuhaha! This guy's a riot! No mana needed—just aim and pull the trigger!"
"Ammo? Gotta have it. Not everyone's born with magic like you lot; this is all we've got against the monsters."
"Speaking of, kids have been vanishing a lot lately... not your council's doing, right?"
"You know disappearances spiked after those council visits? Can't trust you mages."
"Hey, Jackson! No rudeness to a mage footing the beer bill like this. Looks harmless enough."
"Sorry, mage sir. He lost his niece last week. Vanished playing by the sewers... probably drowned."
"That kid swam like a fish—how's she drown? Bet she got snatched!"
"...Jackson, you're hammered. Head up and crash. We head out tomorrow."
"Fuck... really... Carla... Uncle's sorry. Useless uncle's sorry... "
The mood soured toward the end, but it was time well spent.
It even clarified his next move.
Time to scout the sewers.
In Yujin's world, there was "Chekhov's gun"—if something's emphasized, it must pay off later.
This world had its equivalent, just unnamed.
The genius playwright Dante saw that this world's essence mirrored his own plays.
By genre conventions, solving the Sanctuary's mysterious child abductions was next.
"Time flies."
His wrist clock had jumped two hours to 6:00.
The sunlit outside had darkened to deep navy.
Dante pocketed a small mana pistol—"Five Six"—left behind by Jackson, who had stormed off drunk and hostile moments ago.
Not deliberate, pure luck.
As he slipped quietly from the inn room...
Tap, patter-patter!
Dante spotted a small figure dashing across a nearby rooftop.
A long-haired kid lugging a mana rifle nearly as big as herself.
"...Mary?"
No doubt about it.
What was she up to?
Marcus had said non-essential personnel were banned from moving after dark.
Dante hesitated, then tailed her.
A literary instinct told him: she was the true protagonist of this tale.
Mary headed straight for the sewer outskirts—precisely the area Marcus had mentioned.
Dante felt the fragmented story weaving into a single thread.
Good thing I didn't wander blindly—would've wrecked my pride.
But he held back from revealing himself.
Who knew how she'd react?
As Mary scanned the sewer entrance—underground section—with her illuminating magic tool...
Thud, thud.
Dante froze at the approaching footsteps.
Three burly adult men neared the sewers.
Mary belatedly sensed them, dousing her light—but they'd surely spotted the glow.
"Who's there! Come out now!"
"Out in three seconds, or we shoot!"
Under the grim threats, Mary emerged cautiously.
"Mary? What're you doing here? Where's the mage?"
But things took a subtle turn.
"Phaeton Leader? What brings you here...?"
The intruders were none other than the scavengers' leader, one-eyed Phaeton, and his two men.
Not looking for her—just coincidence?
"...Night patrol. This is where Jackson's niece vanished last week."
"Really? Then let's search together! That's why I'm here too."
Mary added brightly, but got a curt order in response.
"No. Leave it to us and head back. Too dangerous."
"Dangerous how? I've got my gun. You know my aim—"
Phaeton bellowed.
"Mary! Do you even know what you're doing? No one's out after dark without clearance! Rule violation!"
The girl flinched at the sudden shout.
Phaeton sighed heavily, voice still edgy.
"Go home. If you're worried about Carla, we'll check at dawn. It's curfew now."
No arguing with that.
Mary trudged out reluctantly.
"Sleep well, Mary. Good work today."
"...You too, Leader."
She shuffled toward Dante's hiding spot, dejected.
Meanwhile, Phaeton and his men stared her down until she vanished.
Suspicious as hell.
Anyone could see they were tied to the kidnappings.
Send Mary off and go solo? Or team up?
In seconds, Dante's mind raced.
His decision:
"Eek! Kyaa—mmph!!"
"Shh! Quiet! It's Dante—the mage Dante!"
"...Mmph?"
"I was watching. Looking for the missing kids, right? I can help a bit."
Two heads better than one, so they teamed up to unravel the mystery.
Her shooting was proven.
Small and nimble—perfect for tight passages.
And what if teamwork became essential?
Better with a safety net.
Entering Choice Goal A Route.
But Dante soon regretted it.
Click.
"Wh-what!?"
"Why step on the obvious trap!!!"
"B-but why's there a trap in the sewers...!!"
"Move! Pursuers incoming!"
He hadn't realized yet: in RPGs, followers were just awkward pack mules—nothing more, nothing less...