Daelan Crowe

He's absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. As promised, the information guild came through, and now I'm perched on the edge of my fancy hotel bed, staring at the images on the tablet like a lovesick teenager. Daelan Crowe isn't just attractive; he's like the poster child for "What is beauty?" With that blood-red hair and those violet eyes—seriously, who has violet eyes? I feel like I've stumbled into some exclusive fantasy art exhibit. This is my man.

I know it sounds delusional, but hear me out: I'd do anything to make this happen. Just my luck, though, when I glance at an image of him with a stunning elf who looks like she walked straight out of a fairytale. Sorry, love, but it seems you might have to make room for me. I'm here to collect my future husband, thank you very much and if she is his girlfriend, I'm not above playing dirty. Let her stop me if she can.

The intel I've gotten is annoyingly vague, but it's enough to leave me intrigued. He's 23, I'm 28, and since this body is technically 21, I'm not exactly a cradle robber. Take that, societal norms! Thank you, reincarnation gods—though I still find it deeply unfair that I'm stuck in a dangerous dungeon world instead of the cushy father-daughter manhwa...

The report also mentions his family history: his late mother was a dungeon refugee, and, shockingly, there's zero information about his father. Living the mysterious life, huh? He's shacking up with the pretty elf and one male elf, they are twins it seems. Oh, and there's a younger boy who looks about 15. They all live in a rickety apartment that looks like it's one monster attack away from becoming a complete disaster. Wait for me my beloved you're better than this environment.

As I study his picture, excitement bubbles up inside me. I can practically feel the cosmic forces of the universe nudging me toward him. I need a game plan—like yesterday—but first, I think I'll call my father. Since he left this world too early in my last life, I'm determined to milk the "daddy's girl" card for all it's worth this time around. Who wouldn't want to spoil their beloved daughter?

With a wicked grin, I grab my phone, ready to dial. After all, a girl's got to strategize if she wants to snag an S-class hunter!

***

I lie there, cocooned in the chaotic remnants of my life, my mind a heavy fog. The twins are sprawled out beside me, their soft snores mingling with the distant sounds of Sector Z. It's hard to believe this shabby apartment is as safe as it gets around here. I roll out of bed, every muscle aching as I push through the exhaustion that clings to me like a second skin.

The bathroom is small and dimly lit, the flickering bulb barely illuminating the cracked tiles. I turn on the tap, and the water dribbles out in a pathetic trickle. I splash some on my face, trying to wake myself up, but the coldness only heightens my awareness of the grim reality I'm living. There's a part of me that just wants to avoid the mirror altogether, to ignore the reflection staring back at me. I see her face. The resemblance is haunting. It's like looking at a ghost that I can't shake off. I shove the thoughts back down, forcing them into the recesses of my mind where they can fester undisturbed.

With a sigh, I tie my hair back into a messy ponytail, the strands slipping free like my grasp on any semblance of a normal life. I should probably cut it, I will eventually.

I pull on a worn black t-shirt and a leather jacket that has seen better days. It's a familiar armor against the chill that hangs in the air, but it does little to shield me from the bitterness gnawing at my insides. I tiptoe over the twins, careful not to wake them. 

The elevator greets me with its usual state of disrepair—vandalized, like everything else in this place. I've come to expect nothing less from Sector Z, where even the infrastructure is as broken as the lives within it. This is the so-called "safe" side of the sector, it is atleast here we won't be stabbed in our sleep.

As I step into the streets, the chaos engulfs me. The buzz of the crowd is a cacophony of desperation and noise, a symphony of broken dreams. I navigate through the throng of bodies, many sprawled on the pavement, their pleas for help lost in the din. My heart feels heavy with indifference as I watch pickpockets dart in and out of the crowd, their hands quick and practiced.

Suddenly, a commotion catches my eye. A group of people has surrounded a man, their intentions clear. I remain an observer, detached from the unfolding chaos, until the man teleports. In an instant, fireballs erupt from his hands, illuminating the gloom around us. I step back, narrowly avoiding being scorched, but my pulse remains steady, my expression unchanged.

Welcome to Sector Z. Here, life is fleeting, and danger is a constant companion. You can die in a heartbeat, often without even knowing how it happened. But hey it's life.