Endless Dungeon: The Misadventures of a Gunslinger Who Can’t Shut Up [LitRPG/Dungeon] Chapter 14: Before the World Knocks Again

Eve's lashes fluttered open at the soft rustling echoing across their quiet room. The stillness that had wrapped itself around her like a blanket slowly peeled away as sound crept in—subtle, steady, and familiar.

Her vision sharpened just enough to catch the outline of movent. Noah.

He was already up, moving with a kind of careful ease, each step deliberate, like he was trying to navigate the room without stirring the air too much.

There was a gentleness in the way he handled things—quiet hands, soft motions—as if the silence was sothing he didn’t want to break.

He noticed her stirring and turned with that boyish grin that sohow always made everything feel a little less bleak.

"Morning, sleepy royalty. Though let’s be real—I’m pretty sure this place doesn’t know what a sunrise looks like."

Noah moved with a quiet sort of energy, the kind that lingered after a refreshing bath. His tunic and pants were clean, the fabric still holding a faint crispness from being freshly worn.

Stray droplets clung to the ends of his damp hair, trailing thin, glistening lines down his neck before vanishing into the folds of cloth.

Every step he took left behind the faint scent of sothing newly scrubbed—clean water, cool stone, and maybe a hint of soap.

[You didn’t wake up?]

"I made an effort. Like, a full-on stealth mission effort. Tiptoes and breath-holding included."

"But honestly? Watching you sleep was kind of weirdly calming. Not in a creepy way. You looked... serene. Which is a rarity, considering how sassy and terrifying you are once your eyes open."

Eve pushed herself up from where she'd been lying, shifting slowly until she was seated at the edge of the bed.

The blanket slipped down around her waist, forgotten as her eyes found Noah, following his every move with quiet curiosity.

"And oh, the inn owner gave this tunic top and pants for free. Apparently, if you spend the night here, you qualify for a pity outfit. Which is great, because yesterday I looked like a background character in a horror ga. Monster blood, ripped sleeves, the whole package."

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at him.

He t her stare with a grin that stretched a little too wide, like he was trying to fill the quiet space between them with sothing easy.

The weight that had lingered behind his eyes last night—the quiet remnants of truths—was nowhere in sight now.

Either it had vanished in the dark while they slept…

Or he’d simply tucked it away, neat and silent, behind that familiar smile.

Eve rose in silence, her movents fluid, unhurried, and ca to a stop right in front of him. She stood tall, composed, her expression unreadable as her eyes searched his face.

[What is your plan today?]

"I'm thinking it's ti to gear up. One flintlock’s good, but two? That’s when things start to feel properly dramatic."

"I’ll probably grab a subweapon too—nothing fancy, just sothing I can rely on when things stop going according to plan."

"The inn owner said there’s a place that trades Untiered gear for a single gold each. Might not be top-shelf stuff, but it’s better than wandering around empty-handed and hoping for the best."

Eve gave a quiet nod.

[Have you dropped your points yet?]

Noah tapped at the screen, the corners of his mouth twitching into sothing between a smirk and a sigh.

"Still holding out. I'm stuck on which subweapon to roll with. You weren't kidding—each one demands its own picky little buffet of stats. I’ll sort it out once I commit."

[Hmm. That’s fair.]

Noah’s gaze sharpened, his eyes tracing every detail of the face so frustratingly close to his. Eve stood just a step away, too quiet, too still. Suspiciously behaved. And that was exactly the problem.

"Okay, this is strange. You’re just standing there like so kind of malfunctioning A.I. I was bracing for a full-on verbal slap the mont you blinked. Nothing? No snide comnt? No roast of the day? Is your sass under maintenance?"

Eve’s eyes narrowed into a perfect impression of a judgntal emoji.

[What’s wrong with is that you exist.]

Noah burst into a grin, like a kid finally cracking the cheat code to a stubborn ga.

"There we go. Now that’s the Eve OS I know. You were scaring with all that silence. Anyway, power up and get moving. If you’ve gotta summon your glam or splash your face like a dramatic K-drama scene, now’s the ti. We’re heading out."

A soft gleam pulsed from Eve’s body. Her skin turned translucent, then blurred, shedding its human shape like water slipping through fingers. In a quiet blink, she beca a small sphere of light, gently bobbing in place, casting a faint silver hue.

[Let’s move. Ti to make those three gold coins actually count. And seriously, if I catch you picking up dumb weapon just because it has spikes or glows in the dark, I’m leaving you in a ditch.]

Noah pushed the door open, letting the faint light spill into the hall. He paused for a mont at the threshold, head tilted, a half-grin tugging at his face.

"I an… that’s a lot to ask."

•••••

Noah strolled out of the inn room with that sa smug grin plastered across his face—the kind that said he either had a plan or was just winging it and pretending it was a plan.

He moved with the kind of energy that made the floorboards creak in protest under his boots.

As he descended the narrow staircase, his stride didn't slow. He was all montum, all mischief, until—bam. A soft figure collided with his chest halfway down.

Noah jolted back a step, blinking in surprise, his grin briefly slipping before bouncing right back.

"My bad. Stairway's got a vendetta today."

The person he’d bumped into didn’t say a word. She just bowed—again and again—each one faster than the last, like her head was stuck on a loop. Her voice ca out in a hushed murmur, barely audible, like she was talking to her own shadow.

Then, slowly, she looked up. Her long black hair spilled forward, slipping off her shoulders like it had been waiting for that one movent. She looked nervous—so much so that even the air around her felt tense, like it didn’t want to scare her off.

Noah’s eyes narrowed with casual curiosity. There was no mistaking it—her features, the shape of her eyes, the softness of her expression—she was Japanese. And not in the tourist-on-vacation kind of way. She carried that quiet formality, that understated grace that didn’t need to announce itself to be noticed.

Without another word, she turned and continued climbing the stairs, her steps quick and careful, like she was trying not to leave a trace.

Noah watched her go for half a heartbeat, then gave the tiniest shrug and carried on down, his grin returning like it had just gone on a quick coffee break.