Snow continues to fall all around me, covering everything in the village I’m currently in with layers of white.

  As I head deeper into the village, more cabins begin to appear, popping up one after another. They look like typical wooden cabins, though with a few odd modifications.

  Several icicles hang from the wooden roofs, resembling the fangs of some monstrous creature. The effect blends with the bluish paint, snow, and other winter-themed carvings or decorations on many of the buildings’ surfaces.

  Strange symbols and unknown letters are painted across parts of the cabins—sometimes even diagonally across doors.

  As I sprint past most of the wooden buildings, my feet feel like they’re being stabbed by icicles with every step.

  I ignore the panic, confusion, and other nasty emotions pouring in from the tentacles’ side of the bond.

  Any passerby quickly jerks out of my way as I rush past. Some shout something, but I can’t make it out over the blistering wind.

  Aghhhhhh!!! If only I knew what happened earlier or how long I’d been out! We wouldn’t be in this mess! We’re going to get kicked out of our cabin at this rate!!!

  My non-existent core pounds against my chest, threatening to burst out.

  Even though Mary and I had been traveling together for quite a while, we didn’t have much money to our name. Sure, dungeon work is lucrative—way better than anything else we could get given our situation—but once you factor in all the necessary expenses, there’s barely anything left.

  Chewing on my lip, I keep running, trying to think of a plan.

  Maybe there are still people hiring? I mean, it’s unlikely, considering how much dungeon work dried up this time of year—but it could happen. Or maybe we could try tagging along with some random party? Beg them to take us with them?

  After what feels like several hours of running, I finally reach my destination.

  Slightly crouching over, I pant hard, trying to suck in air—even though I’m well past the point of needing it anymore.

  Wiping a bit of drool from my mouth, I glance up. Standing before me is a large wooden cabin, unlike the rest in the village.

  For one thing, it takes up way more space than the others. For another, it has a more technological, modern look.

  The cabin is shaped like a triangle—almost a pyramid. Much of its frame is made of metal, visible through the large window panes covering the front of the building.

  Fluorescent sparks twinkle across its surface, especially along the frame. Even without an asura organ to sense it, I can feel the absurd amount of asura leaking out of the place.

  Quickly shaking my head, I snap my gaze away, trying to ignore the growing interest bubbling through the bond.

  ...That was dangerous. If I’d kept looking any longer, I might’ve lost control and tried to chew on it.

  I suppress the rising desire echoing from the bond and turn back toward the building’s door. Above it hangs a sign in big, bold letters: Snowcap Aequitas’ Guild.

  Guilds—they're a staple in a lot of places. They're organizations made up of people in similar professions, formed for protection. The services they offer depend on their focus. Guilds like Aequitas are well-known adventuring guilds, and they've grown enough to start branching out into other services.

  Shifting most of my weight to one side, I chew on my bottom lip.

  Who’d have thought I’d ever feel relieved seeing the Aequitas Guild spreading their headquarters around like some kind of disease? They’re annoying—with that weird obsession for “bringing order,” and it’s always their way or the highway—but still, they’re the most trustworthy and influential guild this far out. At least, out of the ones that allow outsiders to take on quests.

  Beneath the banner, to my immense relief, a neon sign flashes: OPEN.

  Good. The guild’s still open. Hopefully, there’s still a quest or two left that Mary and I can take—one that pays enough to keep us from getting evicted.

  Sharp, needle-like pricks of ice stab at the soles of my feet.

  Behind me, the tentacles sprawl across the ground, twitching. Exhaustion and waves of nausea ripple through the bond from their side.

  Curse this undead state. You’d think I wouldn’t still feel tired after turning. Or get dizzy. Or deal with all the other “fun” stuff.

  I cast a brief glare at the tentacles behind me.

  Of all the undead species, I just had to get turned into an Essevian. Couldn’t they have infected someone else instead? Jobs wouldn’t be nearly this hard to get if it weren’t for them.

  I close my eyes and shake my head lightly, pushing down the boiling emotions inside.

  Turning my gaze back to the wooden cabin before me, I take a deep breath and begin to approach.

  What’s the point in complaining about something like this, anyway? I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for them. Or have met Mary.

  As I reach the door, I wrap my hand around the knob, trying to ignore the ever-present asura casually drifting around me. I can’t see it, but the way it brushes against my skin makes its looming presence impossible to ignore.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Twisting the knob, I push the door open. A wave of warm air hits my face, instantly melting the cold clinging to my skin.

  The inside of the cabin is made mostly of pale, white wood. The harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling reflect off the light-colored surfaces, making my retinas feel like they’re being seared alive.

  All around the space, people and other species of various sizes and colors move about. Some collapse into chairs around tables, others eye the vending machines near one wall, and a few stand in line at the counter opposite me, where a receptionist is busy working on some kind of console.

  A little farther away from the receptionist’s desk stands a smart billboard, embedded deep into the wall and protected by a plastic-like shield.

  Most of the screen is taken up by a white background where numerous digital post-it notes display quests that still need to be completed. In the top-left corner, stats show how many quests have been completed, while a large section on the right lists quests currently in progress.

  Beside the billboard are several kiosks, where a few people are busy interacting with the interfaces.

  Shaking some snow off my body, I slowly step further inside. The tentacles behind me simply let themselves be dragged along, seemingly content to let their consciousness slip back into the dark.

  As I continue into the building, I instinctively scan my surroundings, my eyes searching for potential exits or entrances nearby.

  Some people glance up as I pass. A few narrow their eyes. Most give me just a passing glance.

  “Is that an Essevian?” someone whispers. “She’s a lot more… intact than I thought.”

  “Yeah, only half a face missing,” another mutters. “It’s still creepy how you can see the skull on her left side. Intact, but really creepy.”

  To my left, I sense people stepping away. Some of the tentacles briefly raise themselves at the movement.

  “Is it safe to be near her?” someone murmurs. “Aren’t Essevians attracted to asura? What if she tries to attack us? Or eat our asura organs?!”

  “Oh, that one’s harmless,” another voice says. “Look at her. She doesn’t look out of it or anything.”

  “But—”

  “She’s probably one of those poor saps who got infected by a low-ranking parasite. If it were one of the higher-ranked ones, she wouldn’t have this much control. Besides, even if she did try something, we could take her.”

  “I don’t care,” another voice chimes in. “A zombie is still a zombie. Doesn’t matter what kind. As long as they want to eat my asura organ, I’m staying the hell away.”

  Undeterred, I walk forward until I’m standing in front of the billboard.

  Crossing my arms, I begin scanning the available quests. Many of these has a little note beneath them that states the percent deduct from the reward to the guild.

  Mary and I can’t use asura. Or in her case, not much at all. We can only help carry supplies, dismantle equipment—basic stuff like that. So we’re limited to the jobs labeled Porter.

  Ignoring the top postings, I lower my gaze to the ones listed farther down.

  With every passing second, I bite down harder on my lip. Several of the quests involve hunting down mountain beasts—creatures like the Rockerfeller Mountaincap Tiger, Ice Golem, Snowy Hares, Garion, Kaasari, Glacies, Periculous, and others.

  …I don’t even know what most of these monsters are, since Mary and I only just arrived in this village. But something about those names alone tells me they’re not to be underestimated.

  My eyes linger for a moment on one quest: hunting snow hares, with a reward large enough to make my mouth water.

  But as it stands, even those snow hares would probably kick Mary and mine butts before we knew what was happening.

  Forcibly looking away from the tantalizing quests, I continue scanning the rest of the notes posted on the board.

  While most of the listings are about hunting—no surprise, given that this village revolves around it and it's the dead of winter—there are a few oddballs here and there.

  One quest asks for people to explore some remote, uncharted place to retrieve a specific item. The description says the area’s been scouted and deemed safe… but only for certain types of people.

  That’s the problem. These things might be easy for people who have an asura organ—or at least a decent amount of asura within them. But for me and Mary...

  An image flashes across my mind: the two of us getting our heads chomped off or used as rag dolls by something twice our size.

  I shudder and quickly shake my head.

  Forget paying rent—we’d end up as monster food.

  Biting my lip, I scan the board again. While I let my eyes drift over every available listing, I mentally jab at my side of the bond. Most of the tentacles immediately jolt awake with a startled pulse.

  Before they can respond, I tighten my grip on the bond—so hard my vision almost blurs from the pressure.

  A sharp spike of pain rebounds from the tentacles.

  “I don’t care if it’s torturously painful for me too,” I grit out, barely sparing them a glance. “You better help me with this, or god help me, I will butcher the tips of your ends off.”

  The tentacles spring into action at the threat, quickly beginning to help me sort through the list of quests.

  By the time I reach the last note of posted requests, I feel my core sink to the bottom of my stomach. Sensing my emotions, the tentacles begin to vibrate more in the bond, as if they’ve just realized the situation.

  Staring despondently at the wooden floor, I slowly blink.

  …It’s over. We’re going to get kicked out of the cabin.

  Turning around, I begin dragging myself toward the door.

  …Haaa. Are we going to be alright? Where are we even supposed to go now?

  Dragging a hand down my face, I bite my lip.

  I can handle the cold—even if it freezes my whole body solid—but Mary can’t. As tough as she is, or tries to act despite being sick, she’s still human. And it doesn’t help that her asura organ is barely there, meaning there’s nothing to help her fight off the cold.

  Letting out another sigh, I press a hand over my eyes and rub them up and down.

  …Maybe if I don’t eat as much as usual, we might be able to save enough to rent a cheap shack. Those places aren’t anywhere near as nice as where we’re staying now—some of them look like they might fall apart at any second—but it’s still better than nothing.

  Slowly curling my hands into fists, I close my eyes and sigh. Turning away from the billboard, I begin walking toward the door, all the while ignoring the wary eyes still boring into the back of my neck.

  Now at the door, I slowly reach my hand toward the doorknob. With a quick inhale, I pull it open and step outside. Cold wind immediately rushes at my face, chasing away most of my remaining warmth.

  “Hey, you! You there!” a voice calls from behind me. “Wait up!”

  A few tentacles raise themselves at the voice, letting out small pulses of curiosity through the bond.

  Pausing, I slowly glance behind me as a man runs up, panting heavily. I watch as he catches his breath, pulling a paper from his pocket.

  “Thank goodness there’s still one left,” the man sighs, then meets my eyes.

  The moment we meet each other eyes, my vision suddenly begins to blur as something pops into my head.

  "What a sucker. These guys really would do anything for money, A voice says. "Do you think that's enough Essevian?"

  "Should be," Another answer. "Boss didn't say anything else."

  "Hey!" The man chimes up, suddenly jolting me out of the strange vision.

  Blinking my eyes several times, I place a hand over my forehead.

  What was that? I don't remember encountering such a situation.

  "Excuse me," The man continues to say, almost invading my space. "Are you there?"

  "Sorry," I aplogoizes, briefly closing my eyes. "What were you saying?"

  Letting out a cough, he quickly straightens. “You’re a porter, right? We need some for a dungeon we’re doing.”

  With that, he holds out the paper with a smirk.

  “So,” the man begins, “let’s talk.”