Sometimes, the most innocent-looking things were the worst.

  By the time the group reached the steps leading up to the CHYC clubhouse, they were absolutely done with eel creatures, slime, and getting covered with the latter. They had made the fortunate discovery that the slime was highly flammable, likely something to do with the rotten fuel and rusty oil that was mixed in the water coating everything. Unfortunately, that included them. Brom, immune to the burning, had had to carry each of them like a princess across the engulfed pier while the lampreys screamed in agony around them, whipping massive gobbets of what had become napalm to splatter and burn everything it rained down on.

  It was a scene straight out of some layer of hell.

  The smell was not improved by the burnt flesh scent added to the mix. All around him, the teens were gagging, trying to cover their noses with clothing that was already scented like rot and salt.

  - Nausea

  "Rudy, does this count as a new room?" The teen hadn't mentioned anything about traps, meaning that the slick planks and the way the lampreys had spawned had been less trap and more of a scripted dungeon event.

  "Sorry, Mister B, same shit, different angle. I'll let you know if anything pops up."

  Brom nodded, reaching out and putting his hand on the rusty railing as he began to climb the stairs toward the pristine white building above. Technically, they probably should have had Rudy lead. The only way Brom was going to find a trap was with his face. But if any more monsters spawned, they needed Brom at the front, the area was too narrow and forced them to go single file. Well, honestly, it only forced the massive barbarian shoulders to go single file, the teens were smaller and could easily walk side by side. Especially Maxine and Rudy.

  The little brass 'Members Only' plate glittered next to the yacht club's door. A cute little rope leading to a brass bell above it, looking like a very 'ring for service' type setup.

  "Oh! Hey, that's a trap." Rudy pointed at the door handle. "I mean, it's kinda obvious, but just to confirm in case you were debating on actually trying it."

  "Yeah, no. I wasn't expecting an evil cult to just leave the door unlocked, but it might have been nice, right? Okay, group decision time. Ring the bell or find another way in?" He was already eyeballing the clubhouse wall. It looked a whole lot less sturdy than the brick one he'd smashed through back in the Tutorial. Maybe he could break through it, crash the culty party going on inside?

  "Well, I mean, we've already confirmed you can destroy parts of the dungeon. Just look behind us?" TJ gestured at what they'd left in their wake. The pier was an inferno, the flames licking across the now still water, turning it into a burning napalm ocean. With a groan, a section of the already unsound wood gave way and splashed into the dark waters below, hissing out foul steam. Yeah, they'd ruined the decor in here just a little bit.

  Brom lifted a boot and applied it directly to the door frame. The whole thing ripped free a few inches, skewing inward. A little more pushing and shoving, and he was able to just move the whole thing without ever actually 'opening' it. The doorknob looked a little triggered, just not in the way it had probably hoped, jilted and left still firmly latched as Brom set the whole door assembly to the side and stepped into the dining room of the clubhouse.

  [Quest Stage One: Enter the CHYC Clubhouse. 1/1]

  [Stage Complete!]

  White linen table cloths with lace fringe that looked like the ocean, and cute little embroidered ships were draped over square tables of dark wood. The chairs were upturned, resting on every table except the one in the middle. That extra big table was a commanding presence, looking like it belonged to the lord of some manor and not a small town boat club. There was a chair at one end, flanked by two on either side, then a long gap before the seven chairs at the opposite end were placed. They were made of that same dark wood with navy blue cushions and were currently empty, though there were place settings laid out in front of them. Candles lit the long table equidistant from both ends and the center, providing the only illumination beyond the soft glow of the window lamps. Napkins folded like sailboats sat next to blue and white plates of bone china. Cut crystal glasses and polished silverware sets with all those extra forks and spoons gleamed and glittered, awaiting them. Name cards sat on each plate, their names displayed in elegant script.

  "You could have just rung the bell to open the door. We were expecting you."

  The dry voice came from the shadows on their left, the tall figure of their server stepping out to greet them. He was in a little uniform; pressed trousers of navy cloth, a tight white polo with navy stripes that was marred by a bit of blood, and a navy ascot that was tied tightly to keep his decapitated head from falling off his severed neck. His nametag read 'Stephen' with the little CHYC anchor logo next to it. It looked like someone had scooped Stephen's eyes out with one of those little scoopers you use to make melon balls, and there was currently no sign of them anywhere around. Still, he didn't let the fact that they were missing bother him, escorting them to their table and pulling out their chairs on one end.

  Alex and TJ ended up on the right, Rudy and Maxine on the left. Brom ended up seated at the head or, more likely, the foot of the table. It was an end either way.

  Stephen was a consummate professional, helping them scoot their chairs in with a warm-looking smile. "Can I take the lady's coat?"

  The teenagers were petrified, flinching away whenever Stephen got too close to one of them. Maxine clutched the filthy puff jacket like it was a life preserver, mutely shaking her head and hoping the macabre waiter would depart on his own. He seemed somehow displeased by her actions, but nonetheless, he deferred to her preference.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  "What can I get everyone to drink? For the youths, we have an assortment of sparkling juice beverages and mocktails. For you, sir, could I suggest a craft ale?"

  Brom hadn't been in a fine dining situation in at least a dozen years. Thankfully, his training had kicked in, and he was busy remembering the difference between salad forks and soup spoons when the server addressed him. "Maybe just plain water?"

  Stephen gave an awkward laugh. "That, sir, is about the only thing I wouldn't suggest drinking around here tonight."

  The ghoul had a point, considering what was outside.

  "I'm the chaperone, I should probably stay sober. Can we just substitute the wine pairings tonight for sparkling cider and fruit juice?"

  The teens couldn't believe what they were watching. Here they were covered in eel gore, lamprey slime, no small amount of blood and soot, being tended to by a very obviously dead man, and the only adult in the room was ordering dinner drinks like it was an ordinary Wednesday. It was Wednesday, but that was entirely besides the point. Stephen smiled and inclined his head, silently striding off and vanishing back into the gloom at the edges of the room.

  For a moment, there was only silence. Then Brom pointed to the array of silverware. "Okay, the first thing you have to remember about fine dining is to start with the utensils outside and work your way in. Salad fork, fish fork, meat fork. Same with the knives. The spoon by the knives is your soup spoon. Looks like the dessert silverware will be brought with dessert, otherwise they'd be placed here." He gestured to the top of the plate.

  "Uncle Brom, no offense, but we're not fucking worried about the silverware right now."

  Brom looked at TJ seriously. "Remember what I said about maybe solving a puzzle? TJ look at the dungeon quest."

  [Quest Stage Two: Enjoy dinner with your hosts!]

  [Mistakes: 0/3]

  "...you're fucking serious. We have to sit here and what... not eat steak with the salad fork?" TJ looked like he couldn't believe it. Maybe he was only just now realizing how petty the System could be?

  Alex neatly took the napkin, unfolding it in his lap and encouraging the others to do the same. "So, this is a salad fork." He pointed to the fork that was a little wider with shorter tines at the outside of the array, smiling gently at TJ. "If you start getting confused, just take a moment and look at what I'm doing."

  Oh, at least one of the kids knew what was going on. That took a little weight off Brom's shoulders, listening to Alex explain things softly to TJ.

  "A couple of other things. Pale juice with fish. Dark juice with meat. Listen for suggested pairings with salad, soup, and dessert. If they bring out chafing dishes or serving dishes, don't reach with your own silverware. There will be utensils in the dish that you'll be able to serve yourself out of." He tapped the plate on the table. "This is a charger plate, you'll put your other dishes on top of it, never put food on your charger plate. Also, don't put elbows on the table. Don't talk with your mouth full. Don't tuck your napkin in the neck of your shirt. And whatever you do, don't spill anything or drop your utensil. As long as we're careful, we should make it out of here."

  He paused, then remembered something else. "When you're done, just put your utensils on top of the plate." There was some weird code about how they were supposed to be put on the plate to indicate whether a meal was enjoyed, but he wasn't sure that was actually real. "Just lay them side by side of each other." That was what he'd seen in the only other fine dining situation he'd ever been in. A girlfriend who'd had some connections to money and a Halloween murder mystery dinner party where said connections hadn't minded her bringing her 'low-class' boyfriend. The relationship hadn't lasted long, but that party had been fun!

  There had also been a culinary class, though. His favorite elective in high school, they'd mostly learned how to handle themselves in an industrial kitchen and a few techniques for making simple recipes. Like the one for marinara sauce, he still used to this day. He was grateful now he'd paid attention during the three-week fine dining block. For whatever reason, the catchy little jingles and phrases Mrs. Perry had used were just living rent-free in his head. Now, those were going to save his life and the lives of these kids. Poor Mrs. Perry, he hoped that whatever kind of NPC the System had turned her into, it was an easy life for her.

  "Um, a question? What if they don't like, bring us food? Like what if they bring us a plate full of like, eyeballs?" Clearly, Maxine had Stephen in mind as she stared down at her charger plate. "They won't expect us to eat stuff that can't be eaten? Right?"

  At that, Brom had to fall silent. He wasn't sure what to do in that circumstance. "Maybe if that's the case, we just pick up the correct forks and knives? It might be a quicktime event or something? That seems pretty logical, right?" Maybe each of them would just have to indicate, from the multiple-choice place setting in front of each of them, which would be the correct items to use in the situation presented? "If that's the case, it's easier than remembering actual etiquette."

  Because he sure as fuck didn't remember it all. Right now, his elbows itched, as if they were magnetically being pulled upward to the table top.

  "Mister B, when do you think our hosts will get here?" Rudy turned and glanced down the long, long table toward the empty other end and the seven chairs awaiting their owners. "I mean, I'm not in a hurry or anything, but the waiting is killing me. Is the dungeon timer paused?" The kid peeked at his menu. "Holy shit, the timer is paused! So we're really supposed to just wait."

  "Wouldn't be the first time I've encountered a cut-scene in a dungeon. Probably won't be the last either." Or maybe the timer was just politely giving them time to educate themselves. Damn decent of the System if that was the case.

  Whatever the reason, as if to spite them for noticing it, the timer once again began counting down just as the doors on the other end of the room opened.