The Last Chance Inn
As Vael and Gruk pushed open the creaky double doors of THE LAST CHANCE INN & BOARDING HOUSE, the entire room seemed to freeze like someone had pulled the trigger on time itself.
The place was packed wall-to-wall with drunk cowboys. Some were slumped over the bar like they'd lost a fight with gravity, others were playing cards with cards so greasy they looked edible, and a few absolute madmen were playing a knife game - slamming blades between their spread fingers while laughing like hyenas.
The moment Vael and Gruk stepped inside, every head turned.
Silence.
Then came the slow, collective stare of twenty-something weathered, whiskey-soaked faces taking in the sight of the two massive outsiders - one radiating cold killing intent, the other looking like he wanted to bite someone's head off for fun.
A cowboy in the corner actually dropped his knife mid-game, stabbing his own hand.
"Ow! Tarnation!" he yelped, but nobody laughed. They were too busy staring.
Gruk slowly scanned the room, and for a moment his face did something strange - a weird mix of happiness and pure disgust fighting for dominance. His eyes lit up like he'd found long-lost brothers, but his nose wrinkled like he'd just smelled something rotten. "Why the hell do I feel proud and ashamed at the same time? This is confusing."
Behind the bar, the bartender - a grizzled man with a scar across his cheek and a mustache that looked like it had its own personality - narrowed his eyes. His gaze flicked from Vael's cold expression to Gruk's murderous glare, then down to the revolvers and ridiculous cowboy hats they were wearing.
Recognition flashed in his eyes.
"Aite, boys," the bartender called out loudly, waving a rag like a white flag. "Get back to yer business. Ain't nothin' to see here. Just two fresh tenderfoots lookin' for work."
The tension broke. The cowboys slowly turned back to their drinks and cards, though many kept sneaking glances.
The bartender leaned on the counter and gave them a lazy grin.
"Howdy, boys. So y'all are lookin' for a quest, eh?"
Vael nodded once. "Yes. We're looking for work. Nothing involving rats."
The bartender chuckled, studying them carefully. Vael's killing intent was practically radiating off him like heat from a forge. Gruk, on the other hand, looked like a maniac who'd happily turn the entire inn into toothpicks if someone looked at him wrong.
The bartender's eyes flicked suspiciously toward the dark corner of the room for a brief second almost like he was checking if someone was watching before he turned back to them with an overly friendly smile.
"Alright then, boys," he said loudly, slapping the counter. "Here's yer first quest!"
He leaned in with a grin that was far too wide.
"Ten silver each. All ya gotta do is head over to the old abandoned boarding house on the east side of town… and bring me back ten good doors and windows. Nice ones. No blood stains, no bullet holes, no ghostly remains, no fingers still stuck in the hinges ya get the idea."
The entire inn went dead silent.
Then someone in the back snorted.
Ten silver for cleaning up a haunted boarding house?
One cowboy actually choked on his whiskey.
The bartender kept smiling like a fox who'd just sold someone a broken wagon. In his mind, he was already laughing. These two idiots are gonna run for the hills. Nobody comes back from that place with all their fingers, let alone doors and windows.
Vael stared at the bartender for a long second.
Then, without hesitation, he said:
"Deal."
The entire inn exploded.
Cowboys started howling with laughter. One man slapped the table so hard his cards flew everywhere. Another actually fell off his stool, wheezing.
"Ten silver?!" someone roared. "For the murder house?!"
"They're dead men walkin'!"
"Boss…" he growled, voice low and dangerous, "they're laughing at us. I think this whole town wants us dead. Can I please smash one of them? Just one. I'll be gentle."
Vael didn't reply. He simply adjusted the ridiculous cowboy hat on his head and turned toward the door, completely unbothered.
The bartender's smile faltered for the first time.
"Wait… y'all serious?"
Vael gave him one cold look.
"Dead serious."
The laughter in the inn slowly died down as the realization hit them, these two lunatics had actually accepted the suicide quest.
As Vael and Gruk walked out of the Last Chance Inn, the heavy wooden doors creaking shut behind them, a series of blue system notifications flashed in front of Vael's eyes.
[Warning: Entering Restricted Zone]
[Once you enter the haunted boarding house zone, I will be temporarily disconnected.]
[This is a Domain of Miraleth.]
[Quest Pending: "Find Silas Kane"]
[Duration: 1 Week]
[Failure Condition: You will be trapped in this world]
Vael stopped mid-step.
Domain…?
The words hit harder than expected. The Framework had never been this direct before. It sounded less like a simple quest and more like a threat wrapped in polite blue text.
Gruk noticed Vael had suddenly frozen and tilted his head, frowning.
"Boss?" he muttered, voice low and suspicious. "You alright? You look like you just saw something that pissed you off."
Vael didn't reply immediately. His cold gaze drifted toward the distant silhouette of the haunted boarding house on the edge of town. The air around them suddenly felt heavier, as if unseen eyes were watching.
He spoke inwardly, voice calm but laced with defiance.
"I'll do it my way."
The system gave no reply. Only silence.
Gruk scratched the back of his head, clearly confused by Vael's sudden quiet mood. "Whatever it is, if it's annoying you, we can just smash it. Simple."
Vael adjusted the ridiculous cowboy hat on his head, his expression unchanging.
"Let's go."
As Vael and Gruk started walking down the dusty street toward the haunted boarding house, the swinging doors of the Last Chance Inn creaked open again behind them.
A man stepped out slowly, whiskey bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. He wore a worn, dusty cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. On the back of the hat, faded but still visible, were the letters "S.K." stitched in old thread.
He leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, taking a slow swig from the bottle as he watched the two strangers walk away. His bloodshot eyes followed them with a strange mixture of curiosity and quiet amusement.
The man - Silas Kane - let out a low, rasping chuckle under his breath.
"Well now… ain't that interesting," he muttered to himself, voice rough from years of drinking and screaming at ghosts only he could see. "Two new fools the Framework dragged in. One cold as winter steel… the other lookin' like he wants to break the whole damn world."
He took another long pull from the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Wonder how long y'all will last before this town chews you up and spits you out like the rest of us…"
Silas's gaze lingered on Vael's back for a moment longer, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips, before he turned and disappeared back into the noisy inn.
To be continued.