Rick woke up to the worst headache he'd experienced since dying to a vending machine. His mouth tasted like something had died in it, possibly multiple somethings, and every part of his body hurt in ways that suggested sleeping on cobblestones was not recommended for human spines.
He opened his eyes to find himself in an alley between two buildings, using his jacket as a pillow and covered with what appeared to be a discarded tarp that smelled like fish. Coralia was curled up next to him, her tentacles wrapped around herself for warmth, snoring softly. Fortuna was sprawled on her back a few feet away, still wearing her bunny outfit, somehow looking perfectly comfortable despite sleeping on literal garbage.
"Oh god," Rick groaned, memories of the previous night flooding back. "Oh no. Oh fuck."
"Good morning," Ace said from somewhere above his head.
The talking card sounded far too cheerful for someone who had watched Rick spend three hundred gold coins on alcohol and terrible bets. "How are we feeling today?"
"Like death. Actual death. The kind I usually experience."
"That's what happens when you drink an entire tavern's worth of beer and then bet your life savings on underground fighting matches."
Rick sat up slowly, his head pounding with every movement. The sun was already high in the sky, which meant it was probably late morning. Around them, Millbrook was busy with daily activity, and several people had given their sleeping forms curious or judgmental looks as they passed by.
"How much money do we have left?" Rick asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Zero gold coins, fifteen silver coins, and eight copper coins. That's enough for maybe two meals if you're careful about portions."
"Fuck." Rick looked over at Fortuna, who was starting to stir. "This is her fault. All of it."
"To be fair, you made most of those bets yourself."
"She encouraged me! She's the Goddess of Gambling! She should have known better!"
Fortuna sat up, yawned, and stretched like she'd just had the best sleep of her life. "Good morning! What a fun night that was!"
"Fun?" Rick's voice came out louder than he intended, startling Coralia awake. "You think that was fun?"
"We're broke! We slept in an alley! I woke up covered in fish tarp!"
"But we had a great time getting there!"
"No! No, we did not have a great time! You convinced me to bet everything we had on rigged dice games and fighting matches!" Rick stood up, ignoring how his legs protested.
"Do you understand what you've done? We can't afford food! We can't afford an inn! We can't afford supplies for the next fragment hunt! We're completely fucked!"
"Master Rick, please don't shout," Coralia said softly, her tentacles covering her ears. "My head hurts."
"Your head hurts? My entire existence hurts! And it's all because this gambling-addicted goddess bitch dragged us to every terrible betting opportunity in town!"
Fortuna had the decency to look slightly guilty. "Okay, maybe I got a bit carried away."
"A bit? A bit carried away? You bet our tent money on a banana race that doesn't exist!"
"That was your idea!"
"I was drunk! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"
"Since when am I the responsible one?"
"Good point. Nobody is the responsible one. We're all idiots." Rick rubbed his face with both hands. "Okay. Okay. We need money."
"That means we need to take quests. Lots of quests. Immediately."
"I'm hungry," Coralia said quietly.
"We'll eat after we get paid for a quest. Come on."
The walk to the Adventurer's Guild was a miserable affair. Rick's hangover made every sound feel like someone was hitting his skull with a hammer, and the bright sunlight seemed personally offensive.
Fortuna walked beside him with irritating cheerfulness, apparently immune to hangovers despite drinking more than anyone else. Coralia trailed behind, her tentacles dragging on the ground in a way that suggested she was not having a good time.
The Guild hall was busy with morning activity. Adventurers clustered around the quest board, examining postings and discussing potential jobs. Rick pushed through the crowd with the desperate energy of someone who needed money immediately.
"Let's see what we've got," he muttered, scanning the available quests.
"Herb gathering, five silver. Kill ten slimes, eight silver. Escort merchant caravan, thirty silver but requires three days. Deliver package to next town, ten silver."
"These all pay terribly," Ace observed.
"I'm aware. We're F-rank expect that bitch. Everything pays terribly for us."
"There's not a single S Rank quests here...! They ran out!"
"What about that one?" Fortuna pointed at a quest near the bottom of the board. "The reward looks good."
Rick squinted at the posting she'd indicated. It was written on faded paper that looked like it had been on the board for a long time.
QUEST: Clear the Haunted Manor
Rank: A Description: The old Whitmore Manor on the edge of town has been abandoned for five years due to supernatural activity. Multiple adventurers have attempted to clear it but all have fled in terror. The property owner is willing to deed the entire manor and grounds to anyone who can successfully eliminate the haunting and make the building habitable again.
Reward: Ownership of Whitmore Manor (estimated value: 500 gold coins) plus 50 gold for completion.
Warning: Previous attempts have reported aggressive spirits, moving objects, and unexplained screaming. Approach with caution.
Rick read it twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating from the hangover. "This quest is offering a house as a reward?"
"Apparently nobody wants a haunted house," Ace said. "It's been on the board for six months according to the posting date."
"A house though. An actual house. We wouldn't have to pay for inn rooms anymore."
"You'd also have to deal with aggressive spirits and unexplained screaming."
"I've dealt with worse. Floor Eighteen had infinite bees. How bad can some ghosts be?"
"Famous last words."
Coralia perked up slightly. "Master Rick, if we had a house, would we have beds? Real beds?"
"Yes. Probably. If the ghosts haven't destroyed all the furniture."
"I would like a bed. Sleeping in alleys is not comfortable."
Fortuna was already grinning in that way that meant she thought this was going to be entertaining. "A haunted house! This sounds fun!"
"Stop saying that word," Rick said automatically, but he was already pulling the quest posting off the board. "Alright, we're doing this. How hard can it be to evict some ghosts?"
"You know that every time you say 'how hard can it be,' something terrible happens," Ace pointed out.
"Yeah, well, we're broke and sleeping in alleys. Terrible is an upgrade at this point."
They took the quest posting to the Guild receptionist, a tired-looking woman who perked up with obvious relief when she saw which quest they'd chosen.
"Oh thank goodness," she said. "We've been trying to get someone to take that quest for months. The property owner is desperate. He inherited the manor from a distant relative and just wants to be rid of it."
"What kind of supernatural activity are we talking about?" Rick asked.
"Scale of one to ten, with one being 'slightly creepy' and ten being 'everybody dies horribly.'"
"Probably a seven? The last party that attempted it came running out after twenty minutes, screaming about furniture trying to kill them and voices in the walls."
"One of them claimed the house tried to eat him, but he might have been exaggerating."
"Might have been," Rick repeated. "Great. Very reassuring."
"The good news is that nobody has actually died there. They've just been thoroughly traumatized and refused to go back."
"That's your definition of good news?"
The receptionist stamped their quest acceptance form with perhaps more enthusiasm than necessary. "The manor is located at the end of Elm Street, past the old church."
"You can't miss it. It's the only building with boarded-up windows and an aura of dread."
"Fantastic. Come on, let's go get traumatized by furniture."
They left the Guild with an official quest marker and exactly zero preparation, because Rick was too broke to buy supplies and too stubborn to back down now. The walk to Elm Street took about twenty minutes, during which Rick tried to convince himself that this was a good idea and failed miserably.
Whitmore Manor appeared at the end of the street like something out of a horror story. It was a large three-story building with Victorian architecture, dark wood siding, and windows that had been boarded up from the outside. The yard was overgrown with weeds, the iron fence was rusted, and there was indeed an aura of dread that seemed to emanate from the property itself.
"It looks haunted," Coralia observed.
"Very haunted," Fortuna agreed, somehow sounding excited rather than concerned.
Rick stood at the gate, staring up at the manor. This was either going to be the best decision he'd made since getting reincarnated, or it was going to be another entry in his long list of terrible ideas that ended with him dying multiple times.
"Well," Rick said, pushing open the creaking gate. "Only one way to find out."
"This is definitely going to end badly," Ace said.
"Probably. But at least we'll have a house afterward. Maybe."
They walked up the overgrown path toward the front door, and Rick couldn't shake the feeling that the house was watching them. The windows seemed to stare like eyes, and the front door looked less like an entrance and more like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole.
Rick reached for the door handle, then paused. "Okay, quick question. Does anyone know anything about fighting ghosts?"
"Not really," Ace admitted.
"I can try hitting them with tentacles?" Coralia offered.
"I once bet on a ghost in a boxing match!" Fortuna said helpfully.
"That's not the same thing at all." Rick sighed, grabbed the handle, and pushed the door open.
It swung inward with a horror-movie creak, revealing darkness beyond. "Alright. Let's go be haunted."
They stepped inside, and the door slammed shut behind them with enough force to make everyone jump. From somewhere deep in the house, there was a sound like laughter mixed with wind chimes.
"I already hate this," Rick said.
"It's fun!" Fortuna said.
"I'm going to strangle you."