The coffee in that aluminum cup was already completely cold when Ronald's heavy voice still echoed in Ethan's head.

  "Dealing with smart people only gives you headaches."

  But what kind of headache was more dangerous, a headache from thinking too much, or a headache from not thinking at all?

  Ethan sipped the dregs at the bottom of the cup, letting the bitter taste coat his tongue, then placed the cup precisely in the center of the table covered in circular stains from previous drinks.

  The neon light on the ceiling flickered once, off, on, and when the light returned, a courier was standing in the canteen doorway with a sheet of paper in hand. The thin man in a worn gray uniform swept his gaze across the room, searching, then landed on Ethan.

  "Vance? Ronald's team?" His voice was hoarse, like someone who had inhaled too many chemical fumes.

  Ethan nodded.

  The courier stepped forward, placed the paper on the table without preamble, then turned and left behind a smell of sweat and cigarette smoke. Ethan stared at the paper, an assignment sheet with the red stamp of Sanitation Headquarters in its corner. He read it, and his eyebrow rose half a centimeter.

  Floor 8, Zone 12-C. Emergency cleanup post-incident. Team A-7 assigned at 08.00. Note: Near the inverted triangle symbol. Caution, area prone to Sepsis.

  Inverted triangle symbol. Ethan had heard about those, points in the dungeon where reality thinned, places rookie cleaners were forbidden from approaching. In six months of working, he had never been assigned near that symbol. And now, suddenly, his team was assigned there.

  He folded the paper and put it in his pocket, next to the grimy map from Aria. Outside, the sky of The Grime was beginning to change from thick gray to slightly brighter gray, and morning in the lower district was always like that, without a sun, without a dawn, only changes in neon light intensity that gave indication of time.

  Two hours later, Ethan stood at the entrance to the eighth floor of The Infinite Maw together with Ronald and three other cleaners he recognized only by face, backup team members called for a large assignment. The air here was different from the upper floors he usually cleaned. Heavier, more humid, with a strange smell, not a rotten smell, but the smell of something that had been buried too long.

  The corridor walls before them were not ordinary stone. Organic tissue of a grayish-green color coated their surfaces, pulsing slowly like a living creature that was sleeping. In several places, small protrusions grew like boils, and from their crevices, a faint purplish light seeped out, mana leaking from the depths of the dungeon.

  Ronald stood at the very front, his prosthetic iron arm glinting under the crystal light hanging from the ceiling. He stared at that corridor with narrowed eyes, twenty years of experience reading danger in the dungeon.

  "This is no ordinary floor," he murmured, his voice echoing softly in the quiet corridor. "Zone 12-C is close to the dungeon's breathing heart. If someone dies here, the corpse will be 'digested' faster. And if we don't clean up before the digestion is complete, Sepsis can be born within hours, not days."

  One of the cleaners behind, a young man with always-watchful eyes, perhaps newly a year into the job, cleared his throat. "I heard a Tier 3 adventurer team died here yesterday. Five people. They came on their own, without guild affiliation."

  "Quiet." Ronald didn't turn. "Don't spread unnecessary rumors."

  But Ethan caught that information. Five Tier 3 adventurers, dead near the symbol. That meant five corpses. Five opportunities. But it also meant danger, as a team that could defeat monsters on the eighth floor shouldn't have died just like that, unless something was wrong.

  He felt [Danger Sense] in his chest pulsing slowly, alert but not panicking. There was something ahead, but not yet close enough to be a direct threat.

  "Enter," Ronald ordered, stepping first into the corridor.

  They walked in formation, Ronald at the front, Ethan beside him, three other cleaners behind carrying equipment: dimensional garbage bags, cleaning cartridges, and corpse transport tools. Their footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor, but the sound was immediately swallowed by the organic walls that seemed to absorb vibrations.

  The deeper they went, the more noticeable the change in the air. The pressure increased, like being at the depth of the sea. Ethan's ears hummed softly. At the corners of his eyes, he saw flashes of shadows, not monsters, but optical illusions from the walls moving slowly following the dungeon's pulse.

  Five minutes of walking, they arrived at a large room.

  Or more precisely, the remains of a room.

  Ethan stopped at the threshold, his eyes catching a sight he had already grown familiar with in the last six months, but this time it felt different. Five bodies lay on the floor in unnatural positions, like mannequins dropped from a height, with limbs folded at the wrong angles. Their robes, perhaps once colorful, were now only dull cloth that had absorbed the blackish liquid from the floor. Around them, traces of battle: scratches on the walls, holes from small explosions, and at the center of the room, a symbol that made Ethan hold his breath.

  An inverted triangle.

  Its size was about two meters from point to point, carved deep into the floor, not an ordinary scratch, but as though the dungeon itself had engraved it. From within those lines, a faint red light seeped, pulsing with the same rhythm as the walls in the corridor. The air around the symbol felt different, colder, heavier, like entering a room with different pressure.

  Ronald stepped toward the corpses, his face showing no emotion. "Work fast. We have thirty minutes before the dungeon starts digesting. Separate the equipment that can still be used, clean the mana stains, and lift the bodies. Don't touch that symbol."

  The other cleaners began to move, pulling out equipment. But Ethan was still.

  His eyes fixed on one corpse lying closest to the symbol, a man in a thin black robe, characteristic of the Assassin class. At his waist, a short dagger was still tucked, its handle carved with an intricate pattern. No visible external wounds, but his body position, lying on his back, arms outstretched, eyes wide open, was like someone who had fallen from a height.

  Or like someone hurled by an explosion.

  [Danger Sense] didn't react. The corpse was safe. But there was something tickling at the base of his mind, something that made him want to approach. He glanced toward Ronald. The old man was busy examining another corpse, giving instructions to the other cleaners. For a moment, no one was paying attention to Ethan.

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  His steps carried him to the side of the Assassin's corpse.

  He knelt. That black robe, high-quality material, still feeling smooth despite being dirty. At his neck, a thin necklace with a small dagger-shaped pendant. His right hand was gripping something tightly. Ethan opened it slowly, and a small crystal fell to the floor. A memory-storing crystal, perhaps containing a last message.

  But that wasn't what he was looking for. He touched the corpse's wrist. The skin was still warm, not yet twenty-four hours. Perhaps not even twelve hours yet.

  And the world spun.

  The rooftop of a building on the eighth floor, but not an ordinary rooftop, because in the dungeon there was no sky. The rooftop here was a layer of organic tissue hanging above, with strange stalactites jutting downward. A man, this Assassin, younger, faster, ran across protruding stone beams, leaping from one platform to another with agility.

  Behind him, shadows gave chase. Not humans, but something darker, faster. Sepsis monsters, perhaps, born from uncleaned corpses.

  "I have to get out," he hissed, his breath ragged. "Have to report... this was no accident..."

  He leaped again, this time toward a lower platform. But his feet slipped on moss, dungeon moss that grew in damp places. He fell, his body hitting the wall, then falling again, this time to the floor of the room below.

  His body was hurled. Pain spread. He knew this was the end.

  'I should have used [Void Step]... so I could teleport through that wall...'

  And darkness.

  Ethan snapped back to the room. His hand was still gripping the corpse's wrist, and in his chest, [Danger Sense] pulsed harder, not a danger warning, but a response to a new skill entering.

  The blue screen flickered at the corner of his vision.

  [Residual Regret Detected]

  Source: Assassin — Tier 4 (Unidentified)

  Final Words: "I should have used [Void Step]... so I could teleport through that wall..."

  Skill Acquired: [Void Step] (Tier 3)

  Status: StableCompatibility: 82%

  [Void Step (Tier 3)]

  Effect: Short teleportation up to 5 meters in the targeted direction.

  Uses: 3x before 24-hour cooldown.

  Note: Cannot penetrate thick walls or solid barriers.

  Combination with [Quick Step] creates high mobility synergy.

  Ethan read the description, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. Teleportation. A skill that could move his body five meters in an instant. With [Quick Step] to run fast, [Silent Footstep] to move without sound, and now [Void Step] to teleport.

  But something was different this time.

  The harvesting process felt stronger. Not only the skill he received, but there was something else, a strange sensation in his chest like a small electric current spreading. He stared at the inverted triangle symbol nearby, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw the red light within those lines pulse faster.

  Perhaps because the corpse was close to the symbol. Perhaps because the Assassin's regret was stronger than usual. Or perhaps because...

  "Vance!"

  Ronald's voice broke his concentration. Ethan turned. The old man was standing a few meters behind him, looking at him with a gaze that was hard to read.

  "What are you doing there? I already told you not to touch the bodies."

  Ethan stood slowly, putting on his usual flat expression. "Checking. There was a memory crystal in his hand." He pointed at the small crystal that had fallen earlier. "Might contain information."

  Ronald approached, picked up the crystal, examined it briefly, then put it in his pocket. "We'll hand it over to the office later. Now help the others. Our time is limited."

  Ethan nodded and stepped away from the corpse, but inside him, there was a delight he pressed down hard. [Void Step]. His first Tier 3 skill. And a harvesting process that was different, stronger, deeper.

  He helped the other cleaners lift the bodies onto special stretchers, sprayed cleaning fluid onto the mana stains on the floor, collected equipment that could still be used. But his mind kept drifting to the triangular symbol in the center of the room.

  What was its connection to skill quality?

  He was just about to approach the symbol, only to look more closely, when [Danger Sense] screamed.

  Not an ordinary warning. A scream.

  In his chest, the skill pulsed so hard that Ethan almost jolted. He turned toward the corridor behind them, the direction they had come from. The air there suddenly changed, colder, heavier, with a strange smell like burning metal.

  "Ronald..." Ethan started, but Ronald was already moving.

  The old man stood upright, his large body facing the corridor, his prosthetic arm in front like a shield. His eyes narrowed, reading the threat.

  "Sepsis," he murmured. "The dungeon is coughing."

  From that corridor, a faint rumbling sound began to be heard. Like a giant cough from inside the belly of the earth. And then, from the darkness, something appeared.

  Not a large monster. No. This monster was small, the size of a dog, with an indeterminate shape. Its body was like a clump of blackish slime that moved back and forth, with protrusions on its surface that seemed to be trying to form faces, faces of corpses that had failed to form completely. In several places, flashes of red light glowed faintly, like remnants of trapped mana.

  A Small Sepsis. Born from a corpse that had begun to be digested by the dungeon before it could be cleaned.

  The monster produced a sound, not a roar, but a moan, like a collection of voices of dying people merged into one discordant note. It glided across the floor, leaving a trail of black slime that evaporated slowly.

  The cleaner behind Ethan panicked. One of them, the young man from earlier, staggered backward, his cleaning tool falling to the floor. "M-monster! Sepsis!"

  "Quiet!" Ronald barked. His voice was firm, calm, like a commander on the battlefield. "This is just a small Sepsis. Level 1. Not dangerous if you don't panic."

  But his words weren't enough. The other cleaners also retreated, looking for a way out. Only Ethan remained in place, his eyes fixed on the monster.

  Ronald stepped forward.

  The small Sepsis shot toward him, fast, faster than it appeared. Its black slime spurted forward, trying to immobilize.

  Ronald didn't dodge.

  He raised his right foot, and with one stomp, he crushed the monster beneath the sole of his boot.

  BUMF!

  The small Sepsis' body shattered under Ronald's boot sole. Black slime splattered in every direction, hitting the walls, hitting the floor, hitting Ronald. But the old man didn't flinch. He raised his foot, stared at the monster's remains evaporating slowly, turning into black vapor that disappeared into the air.

  "That's all?" he murmured, then turned toward the other cleaners who were still trembling. "I already said it wasn't dangerous. Now get back to work. We have fifteen minutes left."

  The cleaners nodded awkwardly, returning to their tasks even as their hands still trembled. But Ethan didn't move.

  His eyes fixed on the place where the monster had died, then shifted to the blue screen that suddenly flickered at the corner of his vision.

  [THE DUNGEON CLEANER'S LEDGER — UPDATE]

  Skills Used:

  - [Void Step] (Not yet used, stored)

  Stench Added: +8 (Accumulated from Tier 3 skill harvest near the inverted triangle symbol)

  Current Stench Level: 24/100

  Effect: Noticeable — Monsters will be more aggressive. Humans with high mana sensitivity will begin to "sense" your strangeness.

  Warning: Stench Level 30 will open access to [Necropolis of Failures].

  [Necropolis Access Detected]

  Status: Inactive — Requires Stench Level 30 to open the door.

  Location: Unknown — Hidden in the dungeon's reality layer.

  Ethan read the notification, and for a moment, his breath stopped.

  Necropolis of Failures.

  That term appeared in the notification in gray, not the usual bright blue, but gray, like information that couldn't yet be accessed, like a shadow behind frosted glass. The system called it a hidden place in the dungeon's reality layer. A place that required Stench Level 30 to open. His Stench Level was now 24. Six more points.

  Six more points, and he would gain access to something he didn't even understand.

  "Vance!"

  Ronald's voice called again. Ethan closed the screen, turned. The old man was standing near the triangular symbol, looking at him with a gaze that was hard to read.

  "What's wrong with you? Your face is pale."

  Ethan shook his head. "Nothing. Just startled."

  Ronald looked at him for a long time, then nodded. "Come help lift the last body. We have to get out of here before the dungeon coughs again."

  Ethan stepped toward the corpses, helping his colleagues lift the Assassin's body and the other adventurers onto the stretchers. But his mind wasn't there.

  'Necropolis... what else is that?'