Chapter 234

The simultaneous exclamation of "Hah?" hung in the air, two tiny notes of absolute bewilderment in the cavernous silence.

Nothing made sense. The hostile monsters had turned into docile hosts. The death-blow had turned into a dinner invitation. It was as if they had fallen through a door and landed in an entirely different, and significantly weirder, reality.

Joric and Vana stared at the hobgoblin, which continued to hold the parchment in front of Joric’s face like a particularly unappetizing appetizer. Then, the other two hobgoblins shuffled forward, moving with a stilted, puppet-like grace, and bowed from the waist. They gestured with one hand down the corridor in the direction of the wooden arrow sign.

"Please…" one of them grunted, the word rumbling like stones in a sack. "C-ome… thiss… way."

Their faces, usually contorted in snarls of brutish idiocy, were neutral, blank. Devoid of any malice whatsoever. The voice was flat and lifeless, like someone reading from a cue card they didn't understand.

The sheer absurdity of it all was so overwhelming that the adventurer duo's survival instincts were temporarily overridden by a deep, profound sense of what the hell.

Dazed, they found their feet moving automatically. They took a step, then another down the indicated corridor. The monsters did not follow them but remained standing in their statuesque poses at the end of the hall.

As they approached, a wooden door with ornate but strangely shaped carvings opened automatically. Inside was a reception area, the very last place they ever expected to find.

It was warm and dry, the air was filled with calming scent of lavender and sandalwood. Light, soft and inviting, spilled from lamps that seemed to be powered by trapped fairies rather than fire.

The walls were paneled by beautiful, dark wood. Plush, deep red armchairs lined the walls, small tables held teacups and a bowl of some strange, purple berries. Behind a large, polished desk at the far end of the room sat a single figure. A woman.

She had long, cascading dark hair and warm, deep brown eyes that held a look of mild panic and determination.

Her body, medium breasts and curvy hips, was squeezed into a ridiculously elaborate and revealing maid outfit. Black frilled cuffs on her wrists, a ruff collar around her neck, and a white apron tied with a large bow in the back that did very little to hide the immense curve of her ass. She looked stunning, in a completely out-of-place kind of way.

She offered them a brilliant, practiced smile. "Hello, adventurers! Welcome to… Nazas Dungeon… Spa." She spoke slowly and clearly, like reciting a script. Her eyes darted down to a leather parchment on the desk and brow furrowed in concentration.

"My name is Anya," still peeking at her notes, "and I will be your… hostess… for your stay." Her voice faltered on the last word and she let out a small, embarrassed cough. "Welcome." She looked back up at them, a smile fixed back in place.

She clapped her hands together once, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Here at Nazas Spa, we understand the adventuring life is stressful."

She gestured elegantly to a pamphlet on the desk. "That is why our owner has meticulously designed an incredible experience just for you! Why kill when you can be treated with kindness? Forget the toil and torment of the surface, come indulge yourself!"

Her hand swept towards a door marked with the word 'SPA'.

"Our therapeutic slime pools will melt away the ache of battle! Our trained hobgoblins…" she glanced back at her parchment, "…I mean, masseurs! Offer the deepest tissue massage. You won't find a knuckle-crack more satisfying!"

She gestured to another door decorated by a carving of a goblet and fork. "But that is not all! We also cater to your culinary needs. Tired of hard tack and dried meat? Visit our five-star dungeon dining experience, 'The Gutted Wolf'. Chef's Special: Freshly squeezed slime juice! Cured lightning wolf jerky!"

Her eyes widened while she read the line. "All-you-can-eat! Or so the parchment says."

Anya folded her hands neatly in front of her and gave them a dazzling, if slightly frantic smile.

"So, how may I be of assistance today? A mud bath? A reservation for dinner? Perhaps a light tour?"

Anya’s keen eyes caught the look of sheer panic and confusion on the guests' faces. Their earlier terror had been replaced by a sort of dazed, overwhelmed bewilderment. She realized that her polished spiel was probably coming on a bit too strong for new arrivals.

She let out a small, understanding sigh. "I see. You have just arrived. The transition can be jarring." Her smile softened, becoming more genuine. "Please, why don't you both just sit here for a moment? Take a rest, catch your breath. You are safe here."

She gently guided them toward two plush red armchairs. The chairs were so comfortable, they seemed to envelop their bodies, urging them to relax.

Joric and Vana sank into the soft embrace, this strange situation finally hitting them with its full, bizarre weight. They looked at each other across the small table, their faces mirroring the same unspoken thought: What the living hell is this place?

Joric shook his head, his voice a mere whisper. "Am… am I dreaming?"

"Nah-ah," Vana mumbled back, her mind reeling.

Joric's earlier fear of death had been replaced by a new, more profound one: the fear of having completely lost his mind. He looked at the strangely dressed maid. "Can… can we just leave?" he asked, his voice quiet and uncertain.

Anya’s brow knitted in confusion. "Leave? But you have only just arrived. You have not yet experienced our signature slime mud bath or tasted the chef's renowned lightning wolf jerky."

She checked her parchment again, a flicker of worry on her face. 'Did I say something wrong? Did I stutter somewhere? Why do they want to leave? I thought mistress's welcome speech was perfect.'

The thought of failing in her duties, of disappointing Lyssandra, sent a jolt of anxiety through her.

Vana saw the genuine distress on Anya's face. She knew that expression. It was the look of someone trying their absolute best and being terrified of getting it wrong.

And if there was one thing Vana understood, it was office politics. You never piss off the staff. Especially staff with monster friends.

She immediately clamped her hand over Joric's mouth, cutting off whatever idiotic thing he was about to say next. She leaned forward, plastering a bright, convincing smile on her face.

"No, no! He actually said, when can we leave… for the treatment?" Vana gave the maid a meaningful, conspiratorial wink. "You know, after the long journey. My husband is a little dense. He gets excited."

She glared at Joric, her eyes promising a world of pain if he contradicted her.

"What you said sounds perfect," Vana continued, her voice now smooth as silk. "We can't wait. We'll just rest a moment here, as you suggested. And then the spa. The food. Everything. It is… wonderful!"

She settled back into her chair, keeping a firm hand on her husband's thigh to silence him, and gave Anya another, more genuine smile. "Thank you for being so patient with us."

Joric’s face, previously a mask of confusion, paled as realization dawned. He had been thinking they could just backtrack and find a way out, but Vana’s hissed words painted a much darker, much more logical picture.

'What?' Joric thought, the pieces clicking together. The dungeon. The owner. And this is her underling.

Vana saw his panicked expression and leaned in even closer, her lips almost brushing his ear. Her voice was low and urgent. "Are you crazy? Why the hell do you want to leave right after she's trying so hard to do her pitch? It's like pissing in someone's welcome punch! What if you annoy her and she decides she's tired of playing the host? Then it's back to the hobgoblins, but this time without the polite invitation!"

Her logic was inescapable. It was the logic of survival. He wasn’t a hero in a glorious dungeon, he was a potential customer in a very, very dangerous shop. And you don't spit on the shopkeeper's floor.

His eyes went wide as saucers. He ripped his head away from his wife and began to nod vigorously, a quick, repetitive, almost frantic bobbing of his head.

"Yes! Yes!!!" he murmured against his own hand, muffling his voice. "My wife is so clever. She's right. Of course, she's right. Why would we want to leave? This place is wonderful!"

His panic transformed into a bizarrely bright, manic enthusiasm. He plastered a painfully fake smile on his face when he looked at Anya, who was still watching them with concern.

"Yeah! That's it! A rest! A brilliant idea! I am a bit parched from the walk here, and my back is… achy."