Ben didn't know what real Adventurers were like, but this was what he'd always imagined.
He wandered around the city for a while and finally settled on a tavern called the Dungeon.
He hadn't actually done any research; he just thought the name "Dungeon" was a perfect fit for his game.
Ben pushed the door open and went inside.
It was noon, not the tavern's peak hours. The place was deserted, save for a single Dwarf of indeterminable age sitting behind the bar.
Once a Dwarf was past their youth, it was basically impossible to guess their age by their appearance.
The Dwarf glanced at the door and said coolly, "Taverns don't welcome little brats."
"I can make your tavern's business explode!"
"Our tavern doesn't need more business."
The Dwarf had written Ben off as a kid playing a prank.
Besides, their tavern's business was indeed quite good—the best in the area.
"I'm the designer of Ferin Chronicles."
Ben revealed his identity.
