Chapter 1: [ Runner ]
"Listen, Alexander. You can’t just come in here every week and only check the ’Dungeon Runner’ box expecting a miracle to happen. Just check anything else, so that you can explore other professions that you can actually do? Please? You’ll end up being a cashier your whole life."
Alexander exhaled loudly while pinching his nose bridge.
"That’s the only thing I want to do, Harold. That’s what my father did."
"Your father, blessed be his soul, was barely ever sober. Let’s just assume someone with a drinking problem doesn’t always take the right path in life. It’s an extremely dangerous vocation that requires receiving an archetype, something you still haven’t received."
2
Alexander paused, nodding.
Harold wasn’t a bad person, he truly just wanted the best for him, something he could respect.
"He was a dungeon runner for a single month and that was the first time I had ever seen him sober for so long. Despite everything he’s done, that was the one month he felt alive after my mom...—I’ve decided. I’ll be a cashier until I receive my archetype."
The man wearing a gray suit leaned back, throwing the documents on the desk. He held his face with both his hands, while groaning in despair.
The office they were in looked like Harold had grown in it. Shelves full of books, mementos and souvenirs that must’ve spanned decades. Some of them most likely a gift from Alexander’s father.
Harold suddenly raised his hands, before letting them hit the desk.