The Potion Bag Cost More Than My Life

The first thing a porter learns inside a dungeon isn't how to read a map.

It isn't monster weak points.

It isn't potion names.

It isn't the going rate for mana stones.

The first thing you learn is when to shut your mouth.

"Hey, Han Yu-jin! Didn't you tie that potion bag properly?"

Park Do-yun barked from up ahead.

I tightened my grip on the shoulder strap. The bag packed with potion bottles was heavy. It cost more than my gear, and more than my life. At least by this party's standards, it did.

"It's tied."

"Then why's it rattling?"

"Because we're running."

"You talking back?"

I shut my mouth.

Good call. One more word and I'd hear something like "Fine, then you take point," and then I'd actually have to take point.

An F-class porter had no shield, no sword, no magic. What I had instead was a sense for reading the room. Fail to read it and you died in the dungeon. Plenty of people died even when they did read it—but you still lasted longer than the ones who didn't.

Today's dungeon was an E-class Crack.

Safe. Beginner-friendly.

That was what the guild had written down.

I didn't trust that sentence.

"What is that smell?"

The party's healer pinched her nose. Her name was Seo Ha-rin—a woman in a white robe who always walked around with a faint crease between her brows. Even so, she was the one in the party who swore at me the least. So I had filed her under "good person."

Seo Ha-rin had called me "Yu-jin-ssi" once.

That night back at the lodging, I'd opened a notes app, written nothing, and closed it again.

"Looks like a poison mushroom colony," I said.

"What would you know?"

Park Do-yun shot back immediately.

I shut my mouth again. Internally, I ran through about three rebuttals.

I learned it at the guild training hall.

The smell really is exactly like that.

Could we just check once?

Of course, none of it made it past my lips.

Still, the smell was definitely a poison mushroom colony. Damp and cloyingly sweet. That sticky reek you get when you leave rotten fruit sitting too long. I'd learned it at the guild training hall.

The problem was that an E-class dungeon wasn't supposed to grow a poison mushroom colony this wide.

Blue slime was spreading across the floor. Black moss clung to the walls. Water dripped from a crack in the ceiling, and the sound was strangely regular.

Plip.

Plip.

Plip.

Like a heartbeat.

"I think we should turn back," I said carefully.

Park Do-yun looked over his shoulder. The second I saw his face, I regretted it.

"Hey."

"Yes."

"Since when does a porter brat start giving orders?"

"It's not an order. The smell's just a little off."

"Your smell's more off. Shut up and follow."

Two of the party members laughed. I shut my mouth again. I briefly considered laughing along, then dropped it. Swallowed it. I was used to that.

We pushed deeper in.

And ten minutes later, the dungeon turned inside out.

It started as a small tremor. Pebbles rolled underfoot. Then the walls swelled as if they were breathing. The black moss writhed all at once, and the water droplets falling from the ceiling stopped.

That silence was worse.

"What the hell?"

Someone said.

The answer came up from the floor.

KRA-KOOM!

The middle of the passage split open. Blue slime sprayed. One of the swordsmen up front screamed as something like black vines coiled around his ankle.

"Shit, grab him!"

Park Do-yun shouted.

There were things you could grab when told to grab them, and things that killed you right along with them if you did. I knew how to tell the difference. So I took one step back.

In that instant, the ceiling came down.

Stone dust got in my eyes. The bag strap bit into my shoulder. Someone slammed into my side and shoved past. I hit the wall, then rolled across the floor.

"Exit! Toward the exit!"

Park Do-yun's voice was already getting farther away.

I tried to stand. I couldn't. The potion bag's strap was pinned between fallen stones. I tried to wrench my shoulder free, but the strap held on like it had sunk its teeth into my flesh.

"Wait!"

I shouted.

Nobody looked back.

"The bag's stuck! Just a second—"

That was when Seo Ha-rin glanced behind her.

She definitely saw me. Our eyes met. Her face went bone-white. The staff in her hand trembled. Her lips parted.

For a second, I felt relief. At least one of them is coming back.

And at the same time, a deeply pathetic thought crossed my mind. If she comes back, what do I even say? Thank you? I'm sorry? Should "sorry for getting stuck" come first?

"Ha-rin! What are you doing!"

Park Do-yun grabbed her wrist and yanked. Seo Ha-rin held her ground for one step. Really, just one step. Then she was dragged away. Her white robe vanished beyond the collapsing dust.

I watched it happen and swore. Very quietly. So no one would hear. It wasn't the kind of curse a person begging for their life ought to make, but in that moment it was the first thing that came out.

"Bastards."

The passage caved in. The light cut off. I was left alone, wedged between stone and slime and a potion bag.

For a few seconds, all I could hear was breathing. My breathing. Too fast, too shallow, too ugly.

Then another sound.

Squelch.

Something was crawling through the dark.

I fumbled for the dagger at my waist. I got the hilt. The problem was my arm shaking. Even if I drew it, I had no confidence I could stab anything.

I needed to run before I met the monster. Fail to run and I was dead.

"Ha."

A laugh slipped out. Not because I felt wronged. Strangely enough, it was funny because the ending was exactly what I'd expected.

I'd always known it would go like this someday. Abandoned in a dungeon, nobody coming back, ending as a single line in a report that wouldn't even get my name right. I imagined it often—even while heating convenience-store lunchboxes. I'd just hoped today wouldn't be the day.

I'd never wanted anything grand out of life. Just not falling behind on rent. An egg in my ramen. A shower and a bed after the dungeon was done.

Guess even that was asking too much.

Squelch.

Two yellow eyes opened in the dark.

I raised the dagger. Sweat slicked the hilt. I prayed inwardly that it wouldn't slip—without even knowing who I was praying to.

"Don't come."

Of course it didn't work. The yellow eyes dropped lower. It was getting ready to lunge.

Only then did I get truly scared. What scared me wasn't dying. It was dying like this. Unable to even properly say who'd abandoned me. Body never recovered. Guild compensation never paid.

And more than anything—

Because that bastard Park Do-yun was probably going to dock the cost of my potion bag from my wages.

"Fuck."

The word and the yellow eyes exploded forward at the same time. I squeezed my eyes shut.

In that instant, letters bloomed on the inside of my eyelids.

I opened my eyes. A blue window was floating in midair.

"What."

"No, now?"

The monster was charging. I was about to die. And the status window was perfectly calm—like it was telling me to take a number at the guild reception desk and wait my turn.

I paused for a second at the last line.

"Why are you measuring shame?"

The status window didn't answer. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A new sentence appeared instead.

"Hey."

"Hey, wait."

The yellow eyes were right in front of me. A wave of rotting stench hit. I swung the dagger. It cut empty air. The monster's claw raked across my shoulder. It burned like fire.

"Now of all times?"

"I already knew that, you bastard!"

I clutched my bleeding shoulder and scooted backward. There was nowhere left to go. My back hit the collapsed stone wall. The monster lowered its body again. The status window flared.

"What?"

"Alter?"

Options appeared.

I hesitated. For a genuine fraction of a second.

"One! I said one!"

The monster leapt. In that same instant, something inside me snapped.

It didn't feel like bones twisting. It was the opposite—like being forcibly stripped out of old clothes and stuffed into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ones so new they didn't fit right. My skin burned. My limbs lightened. My field of vision dropped, then sharpened again. My ears rang. And my body felt strangely unfamiliar.

I rolled first. The monster's claw skimmed the tips of my hair.

Hair?

Had my hair always been this long?

No time to think. Almost on instinct, I drove the dagger forward. My wrist was lighter than before. The tip punched into the monster's eye.

SKREEEEE!

The monster shrieked. In that opening, I wrenched the bag strap free. The shoulder that wouldn't budge even if I'd died earlier slipped out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weirdly easily. No—my shoulders seemed narrower.

"Wait."

My voice was wrong. Thin.

I touched my throat. My hands were wrong too. The fingers were longer and thinner than before.

"Wait a second."

The status window helpfully delivered the finishing blow.

I sank to the floor. And as I sank, the first thing I grabbed was my pants. Before the monster, even.

The monster was thrashing against the wall with a stabbed eye. It wasn't dead yet. But I had a more urgent problem.

I slowly looked down.

There they were.

Breasts.

Weight hanging in a place it had absolutely no business hanging. My worn hunter jacket pulled strangely across the chest. The belt had gone loose, and the pants caught awkwardly on my hips. My center of gravity had shifted so much that even sitting felt wrong.

I said, very quietly:

"I'm fucked."

Truly. If it had come out in my old voice, it would have been slightly less horrific. Instead, the words came out in a stranger's—a woman's—voice. Clearer than expected, smaller than expected, and annoyingly cute in a way I did not want to hear.

I clapped a hand over my mouth. As if covering my mouth would make the voice never have happened. Of course it didn't.

"Don't."

"That's not a quest, that's physical therapy."

I stared at the status window with eyes more terrified than I'd given the monster.

"What the hell is a recommended outfit."

"That is the most suspicious sentence you've said yet."

The monster lifted its head again. One yellow eye locked onto me, full of murder.

I gritted my teeth and stood. Even while standing, one hand stayed clamped on my waistband in case the pants slid down. No dignity even in front of a monster. Not that I'd had any to begin with.

My legs shook. My balance was off. The jacket was uncomfortable, and the pants kept trying to slip. The entire situation was absurdly humiliating.

But it still beat dying.

I raised the dagger again.

"Fine."

My voice trembled.

"Let's live first and figure it out later."

"Don't put up a progress bar. It makes this more embarrassing."

The monster charged. This time I could see it. It looked slower than before. Or maybe I'd gotten faster—I couldn't tell.

I twisted aside and swung the dagger. My foot slipped. My balance broke. Even so, my body followed through with a strange lightness. The blade skimmed under the monster's throat. Sticky blood sprayed. The monster staggered.

I gasped for air.

"Title?"

I glared at empty air for a second.

"Do you seriously have to stamp that as a title?"

Instead of answering, the status window put up the next notice.

I stopped dead with the bloodied dagger still in my hand.

Identity verification.

Those words rang filthy and loud inside my skull. Me, who used to be a man. In a body that was now a woman's. Walking up to a guild reception desk. And proving I was myself.

I looked past the collapsed passage toward a faint smear of light.

I'd lived.

For now.

But somehow, I had the feeling the real problem was waiting outside the dungeon.

I grabbed the waistband of my hunter pants.

No.

I was really, truly fucked.