Mr.B Thinks I’m A Kid But I’m Not!
It didn’t take long to find the alleyway. It was only a five-minute walk away from the shop.
As I stared at it, a low sigh escaped my lips.
‘Hopefully everything works out.’
Ekram Alley wasn’t especially narrow, but it felt cramped anyway, as if the walls were closing in.
Neon signs buzzed overhead, half-lit and flickering, casting the ground in uneven streaks of purple and green.
A figure leaned against the wall near the far end, arms crossed.
His posture was relaxed in the way that only came from being very sure no one here could surprise him.
I walked towards the man and stopped a few metres in front of him.
Judging by his stance, he was most probably the Barascuda guy that I was looking for.
Upon seeing me stop in front of him, the man straightened up.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.
‘Guess I did surprise him.’
There were a few feet of distance between the man and me, distance that would allow me to react if things went wrong.
I placed my hands deep inside my hoodie pocket, ready to pull out the chain at any necessary moment.
“You Barascuda?” I asked.
He looked me up and down slowly.
His eyes lingered on my beanie, the backpack, the mask, and finally my height.
Then he sighed and rubbed his face with one hand.
“Yeah,” he said. “And you’re—”
He stopped himself, staring harder.
“…Why is there a kid here, bro?”
“I am not a kid,” I replied immediately. “I will have you know I am a fully functional, tax-paying adult!”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing anything I was saying.
To him, I looked like a kid that had taken the wrong turn and was now lost in the metropolis that was New Tokyo.
“Uh-huh.”
His condescending tone of disbelief was starting to piss me off.
Was it that crazy to believe I was twenty-one?
Sure, I was on the smaller side, but that was it. Nothing crazy.
“I’m twenty-one,” I said firmly.
“Sure you are.”
Up close, Mr. B—as my brain immediately labelled him—looked mid-thirties at most.
He had short dark hair a faint stubble, and the skinny gaunt type of build that came from someone who’d been in too many places where running was necessary.
His jacket was plain and unbranded, giving the vibe that he wasn’t a very materialistic person.
He glanced down the alley, then back at me.
“Did someone send you here, kid?” he asked. “Because this isn’t a cosplay meetup.”
He still didn’t believe me.
Was this guy dumb? Didn’t he realise I’d called out his name?
“I left the note,” I said, crossing my arms. “Y’know, the warehouse. Behind the door. With my forum ID.”
That wiped the amusement off his face.
Perhaps now he would take the situation more seriously.
His expression shifted and sharpened.
“…That was you?”
“Yes. Haven’t I been saying that the whole time?”
He stared at me again, longer this time, like he was trying to reconcile two completely incompatible images.
Luckily, he couldn’t get too much information from my appearance.
Stupid as my intricate disguise was, it was serving its purpose.
“Why do you keep staring at me like that, dude? It’s uncomfortable.”
“…Damn,” he muttered. “Sorry. Rough life, I guess.”
“What?”
He tilted his head slightly.
“What kind of life does a girl have to live to be chasing dungeons this early?”
I blinked.
“…Excuse me?”
He clicked his tongue softly.
“No judgement,” he said quickly. “Just—usually it’s debt, family trouble, or someone desperate enough to skip the Association safety nets.”
I opened my mouth, ready to respond, then closed it again.
‘Whatever. This guy’s probably already made up his mind on the narrative. I couldn’t change this misunderstanding if I tried.’
Seeing my indifference as a sign he was heading in the right direction, the man asked another question.
“Where are your parents?”
There it was.
The question landed heavier than it should’ve.
“…They passed,” I said after a beat. “A few years back.”
His posture softened instantly.
“Oh,” he said. “Shit, sorry about that. Not too good with these sensitive matters.”
I shrugged, keeping my voice light. “It happens.”
He looked at me with something dangerously close to pity.
“…Damn,” he muttered again. “Orphan, huh. That’s peak.”
I stared at him.
“I am not—”
He waved a hand. “You don’t gotta explain it. I get it, the world’s brutal. I can only imagine what type of life you would have to live to be in a situation like this.”
Oh my days, did this guy ever listen?
Maybe I should have corrected him earlier, because his ideas were clearly running amok.
Why a career as a broker? Clearly a creative fiction writer suited him better.
“I’m not here for therapy,” I said quickly. “I’m here for the dungeon.”
That snapped his attention back.
He studied me for a second, then nodded slowly.
“Alright,” he said. “If you’re serious enough to show up on time and not freak out, I’ll hear you out.”
He turned and gestured deeper into the alley.
“But just so you know,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder, “if this goes bad, I warned you.”
I followed him without hesitation.
Inside, my heart was racing.
‘Great, now I’m an orphan child in the eyes of the black market.’
This night just kept getting better.
***
I watched as Mr. B walked a few more steps before stopping in front of what looked like a completely unremarkable brick wall.
It looked just like any other wall in the city.
“Before we go any further,” he said, holding out a hand, “you got the money?”
I quickly pulled out the wad of cash from my pocket.
“Thirty thousand yen, right?”
He put on a pair of glasses before taking the money from my hand.
I could tell he was checking it for counterfeit notes.
‘He’s very scrupulous.’
After checking for roughly a minute, he returned ten thousand yen back.
“Consider this an uncle’s discount. I’ve got a niece your age—she’s sixteen. I’d feel bad charging you the full price.”
Sixteen. Didn’t I tell this bozo I was twenty-one?
Well, I was getting money back, and there was no point correcting him anymore.
I took the notes without complaint.
Looking upwards, I saw him staring at the blank wall.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He glanced back at me. “You expecting a rolling carpet that says welcome to the black market?”
Haha. Really funny, man.
“…Kind of.”
He huffed and reached into his inner jacket, pulling out something that made me pause.
An orb.
It was about the size of a grapefruit, translucent, with faint swirling light trapped inside like mist caught in glass.
Symbols flickered across its surface, appearing and disappearing too fast to properly read.
My eyes couldn’t stop looking at it.
“It’s an Oracle Ball,” he said casually. “Don’t touch it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He rolled his eyes and pressed the orb against the wall.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the brick rippled, bending inward like wet clay.
Light started bleeding through the seams as the wall peeled open into a narrow passage glowing faint gold.
“…Oh. Pretty nifty.”
Mr. B smirked. “Welcome to the back end of the city, kid.”
“I’m not a kid!”
He stepped forward, straight into the wall.
And disappeared.
I hesitated for half a second, then followed close behind.
The moment I crossed the threshold, the world flipped.
The alley had now vanished, as if it were a distant memory.
What replaced it was a massive underground space lit by hanging lamps, glowing runes, and stalls in every direction.
Hunters moved through the crowd in muted colours, some with their faces hidden, others without.
Weapons and artefacts changed hands openly in ways that would have caused an Association officer to faint on the spot.
This was it. I had made it to the black market.
“…Okay,” I muttered. “This is cooler than it has any right to be.”
Mr. B glanced back, amused. “You look like a complete rookie. Careful now, you might get scammed with a face like that.”
“Is it that obvious? I thought my mask was hiding it well.”
He chuckled. “Your face might be covered, but you’re moving your head like someone who just found out Santa’s real and he sells illegal dungeons.”
Taking in his advice, I tried my hardest to calm down.
He led me deeper inside the market, stopping near a board covered in glowing plaques named gate listings.
“Now,” he said, crossing his arms, “you said beginner-level, quiet entry, no Association eyes. You’re lucky. I’ve got three that fit.”
He pointed to the first plaque.
1) Ashcoil Basement
“First is Ashcoil Basement. This is an old industrial gate,” he explained.
“It’s a dark, fire-filled spot crawling with slow-moving salamanders and ember crawlers that hit like a truck, so it’s best for anyone who prefers to stay back and pick their targets from a distance.”
My fingertips tingled slightly.
…Fire, huh.
He moved to the second.
2) Mireglass Tunnels
“Next, we have Mireglass Tunnels. You’ll find waterlogged ruins here,” he said.
“The dungeon is basically a swampy mess of slimes and leeches that love to grab at your ankles. Nothing there hits particularly hard, but the combination of terrible visibility and slippery footing will wear you out if you aren’t careful.”
That sounded miserable.
Leeches and slimes, weren’t they a girl’s worst enemy?
Still, water compatibility could be useful for my lightning affinity.
It was something I would have to consider.
Then the third.
3) Gobgrill Forest
“Finally, we have Gobgrill Forest,” he said.
“It’s a fairly open fielded area and mainly contains goblin-type monsters. Individually, the goblins aren’t too bad, but don’t let them group up, because they can become overwhelming.”
