I ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED A DUNGEON

Cling!

They both snapped their heads towards the sound of the sword clashing to the ground from somewhere deeper down the hallway. Then came steady footsteps and a person who walked steadily towards the front door.

"Arturo!" Fidel leaped to his feet. "Where the hell were you?!"

But he received no answer from Arturo as he continued to walk, but with every step he made, there was a new card that appeared under his feet.

"That is not Arturo." Pedro’s voice sounded low and doubtful.

"It is. See his clothes, he wears the same clothes for days." Fidel started following him downstairs. "Wait, Arturo, wait!"

Arturo finally reached the front door, flung it open, and started running fast out of the house. Fidel was running after him and then saw that Arturo disappeared into the night.

"What are you two doing?" André’s sharp voice echoed from the staircase.

Pedro turned around to see Fidel running outside. "Arturo, he has just...he ran outside—"

"Go and get him."

Fidel continued his run and outside he saw Arturo lying motionless face-down in the garden. He immediately rushed to him, tried to shake him, but then he noticed cards falling one by one from above, right next to them.

He looked up.

The entire sky above the garden was filled with the cards floating softly and silently like snowflakes; spades and hearts and clubs spinning lazily against the night.

He could not take his eyes off the balcony over the house, where there was a darkly dressed man standing perfectly motionless, watching everything happening beneath him without saying a word. The man turned around slowly and went back into the shadows.

Fidel trembled all over, trying to scream but getting no sound at all, choked in his throat.

Pedro ran through the garden, yelling whether Arturo breathed, lived, or died – the questions tumbling one on top of another. Alfredo was swinging his sword wildly, striking at the falling cards again and again but hitting only the air.

André was standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the storm of cards falling above the garden. Hi, my friends. What does it want from us. Is it just playing with us?

"Who are you?"

...

Bron perched rigidly upon the sofa, arms folded across chest tightly, booted toe thumping an irregular beat upon the floor. The maids and servants had formed themselves into a ring about the edges of the room, all gazing at the man who was positioned cross-legged at the center of the room, the circle outlined and glowing faint blue around the one card he was examining, resting in its center.

Xavier opened his eyes with a heavy sigh and lifted the card from within the circle and placed it carefully into the pile of other cards beside which several dozen more rested.

"Well?" Bron leaned in. "What did you find?"

"Nothing. Already told you, there is no Numen remaining in these cards. That alone is odd enough. Everything has some Numen in it, even a rock off the road has some. All I can think of to explain this is that someone physically placed each one of these here."

"You’re useless. Can’t even track down the guy making a fool of me in my own house, and yet you call yourself an adventurer? You ought to be ashamed of yourself for even showing your face around here."

"I’m doing my best with what I have available. Without a Numen trail, exactly what am I supposed to track?"

"How does one end up appearing right next to my plate at breakfast time? Out of nowhere."

"Maybe." Xavier sighed again. "I’ll put this plainly. I’ve done a lot of weird shit since I’ve been doing this kind of work. I know what’s dangerous, and this is one. Are you familiar with the Pneuma World?"

"Numa what? Pronounce it properly. What does that have to do with anything here?"

"It’s—a" Xavier looked around at the faces surrounding him before finishing his sentence. "A separate world. One that lies right beside ours, but we can’t interact with it in any way. We can’t see it, can’t feel it, can’t control it, but it exists all the same. And whoever or whatever is responsible for this, I have to say I’m pretty sure it’s connected to that. That’s why it’s so hard for me to track it down, if it’s someone. Because this person knows precisely what they’re doing. And my sincere advice would be not to mess with it. As if nothing had ever happened and don’t try and make trouble because dying would be the easiest thing that could happen to you if you tried."

Bron snorted. "You’ve made that all up. There’s no other world that exists next to ours."

The door was opened violently, and André stumbled into the room drenched in sweat, panting. The minute he saw everyone present, the room with its strange circle drawn on the floor, the stack of cards lying there beside it—he froze.

"I told you to stay and watch the house." Bron’s tone turned sharper. "Why are you here?"

"I’ve got something you should know about." André pressed forward, and his eyes flicked to Xavier standing up and looking down at the stack of cards lying on the floor beside him. His chest twisted uncomfortably. He suddenly felt the card he’d been clutching drop from his hand and land on the floor.

"Tell me. Now." Bron demanded.

"The cards." André’s voice was shaky. "There everywhere. All over the house. It’s—It’s raining cards."

"Even there?" Bron paled, an inexplicable cold shiver running up his spine.

"Well, looks like my job here is done." Xavier nodded, already putting his stuff together. "I’d strongly suggest you actually consider what I just told you, before it’s too late to matter."

André stared at Xavier’s disappearing backside until he was closed off by the closing door, and turned around to confront Bron, using the back of his arm to wipe his brow of sweat.

"Sir, you have to listen to me this time."

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