Suzume's laptop screen cast blue light across her face as she adjusted her headphones.

  The podcast had started ten minutes ago, but she'd been rewinding the same segment for the past five.

  "So you're telling me you've seen over three hundred different monster species?" The host leaned forward, clearly enthralled.

  The guest, a grizzled Player named Yamada Tetsuya, nodded. He looked exactly like someone who'd been fighting monsters for a decade. Scarred hands, thousand-yard stare, the works.

  "At least. The System keeps spawning new variants. Just last month I ran into something I'd never seen before in an A-rank dungeon. Called itself a 'Void Wraith.' Nasty piece of work."

  Images flashed on screen as Yamada described various monsters. Suzume grabbed her notebook and started sketching.

  "Your basic Giant Slime is B-rank, right? Big blob, maybe three meters tall." A photo appeared showing a translucent green mass with visible bones floating inside. "Main attack is these acidic globs it shoots. Range of about twenty meters. Burns through leather armor in seconds."

  Suzume's pencil moved quickly across the page.

  B-Rank: Giant Slime

  Size: 3m diameter

  Main attack: Acidic projectiles (20m range)

  Weakness: Fire magic

  Note: Remains dissolve bodies for nutrients

  "But here's the trick," Yamada continued. "Fire magic absolutely wrecks them. One good Fireball and they start evaporating. Problem is, when they die, they explode. Learned that the hard way."

  More images cycled through. Stone Golems. Lightning Sprites. Something called a Bone Amalgam that looked like someone had glued together parts from different skeletons.

  Suzume filled three pages with sketches and notes. Monster types, attack patterns, weaknesses. Information that might help someone survive if they were trapped with these things.

  The podcast moved on to discussing loot drops, but Suzume had what she needed. She closed her laptop and checked the time. 7:43 AM.

  Time for her morning commute.

  ---

  The train was packed as usual.

  Suzume squeezed into a corner and pulled out her phone, earbuds already in. Her favorite Player, Sakura Miyuki, was doing a live interview on Morning Coffee Talk.

  "So, Sakura-chan~, tell us about your decision to become a Player." The host, a woman in her fifties with perfectly styled hair, leaned forward with practiced interest.

  Sakura looked stunning as always. Pink hair (definitely dyed, but who cared), designer Player gear that somehow made leather armor look elegant, and a smile that had launched a thousand fan sites.

  "Well, Tanaka-san, I'd always wanted to make a difference, you know?" Sakura's voice was warm, genuine. "When I awakened at seventeen, it felt like destiny. Here was this power, this opportunity to protect people."

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  [Unlike the plebs like me, hehe.]

  Suzume's bitter thought was somewhat softened by the way Sakura's outfit emphasized certain... assets. Two big, soft assets.

  She was only human, after all.

  "And the financial benefits?" another host chimed in, waggling her eyebrows.

  Sakura laughed, a tinkling sound that had probably been practiced, but still sounded cute.

  "I won't lie, the money is nice. But honestly? The real reward is knowing that every dungeon I clear makes the world a little safer."

  The audience applauded.

  "Speaking of safety," the third host said, "what's your take on the recent outbreak incidents?"

  "Outbreaks are concerning, of course. But our response teams are better trained than ever. The incident two days ago? Cleared in under fifteen minutes with zero civilian casualties."

  More applause. The hosts gushed about Sakura's recent sponsorship deals, her upcoming dungeon raids, her charity work.

  Nobody asked about the people who didn't make it out of dungeons. Nobody ever did on these shows.

  Suzume's stop approached. She pocketed her phone and pushed through the crowd toward the doors.

  The commotion was visible from a block away.

  A crowd had gathered near the Harajuku station exit, phones out, voices rising. Suzume's first thought was another outbreak, but she didn't hear any screaming or see any monsters.

  She pushed closer, using her small frame to slip between gawkers.

  "—been four hours already—"

  "—my cousin's in there, they said it would be routine—"

  "—portal's flickering, look at it—"

  Suzume finally got a clear view.

  A dungeon portal hung in the air above the sidewalk, but something was wrong. Instead of its usual stable purple swirl, it flickered and sparked, colors shifting from purple to red to black and back again.

  A police line held the crowd back. Officers in Player Response gear stood ready, but they weren't moving toward the portal.

  "Why aren't they going in?" someone near Suzume asked.

  An officer turned to address the crowd.

  "The portal is showing signs of severe instability. For everyone's safety, we need you to stay back while we assess—"

  "My daughter's in there!" A woman tried to push past the barrier. "You have to do something!"

  "Ma'am, I understand, but sending rescue teams into an unstable portal would only—"

  Suzume had heard enough. She'd heard this exact speech before, just with different words. Different excuses.

  The portal flickered again. For a moment, it turned completely black.

  [Just like Akane's dungeon.]

  She turned and started walking away. Behind her, the crowd grew louder, more desperate. Someone was crying. Someone else was screaming at the officers.

  But Suzume kept walking.

  [Another accident. Another group of Players who won't come back.]

  Her feet carried her automatically toward campus. Around her, Tokyo went about its morning routine. Salarymen rushed to offices. Students chatted about homework. A food truck served breakfast crepes.

  Life went on. It always did.

  [This isn't right.]

  The thought came unbidden, but once it arrived, it wouldn't leave.

  How many times had this happened? How many people had been written off as "unfortunate casualties" of an "unavoidable system error"?

  How many more Akanes were dying right now, recording final messages that might never be found?

  [Someone has to make a difference.]

  She thought of Sakura on TV, talking about protecting people. She thought of the rescue teams that only responded to outbreaks, not to the people trapped inside. She thought of the Bureau's seven-day waiting period that might as well be a death sentence.

  [But what can I do? I'm nobody. Unawakened. Ordinary.]

  A notification popped up on her phone. Someone had posted a video from the Harajuku scene. The portal was completely black now, crackling with red lightning.

  The caption read: "Another destabilization. 6 Players inside. RIP."

  RIP. Rest in peace. Already written off as dead.

  [Could that person be me, though?]

  The one who made a difference. The one who actually tried to save people instead of just talking about it on morning talk shows.

  Suzume laughed at herself. A short, bitter sound.

  [I can't even legally enter dungeons as an unawakened. How am I supposed to save anyone?]

  But the thought wouldn't leave. It settled in her chest like a stone, heavy and undeniable.

  Someone had to do something.

  Someone had to try.