Let me start by saying this.
I know I didn't leave the chips aisle empty when I closed last night.
I remember because Mira organized it by emotional vibe, which meant spicy chips were next to the healing potions and sour chips were next to the first aid kits.
Why? "Because they're both for emergencies" apparently.
Anyway. This morning, the entire bottom shelf was bare.
No chips.
No crumbs.
Not even a stray receipt.
At first, I assumed goblins. But then I checked the register and there was a single gold coin sitting neatly inside.
Which is strange, because I always empty the register before closing. I've seen too many fantasy movies where thieves break in through the ceiling, and I'm not about to lose my hard-earned jerky money to some guy named "Shadowblade69."
It happened again the next night.
And the next.
Always the same pattern.
Shelves mysteriously empty.
Single gold coin in the register.
Mira swears she didn't do it. (Which somehow makes me more suspicious.)
By the fourth night, I was done playing Mystery Snack Thief.
I stayed late.
Lights off.
Register armed.
I even set up the cheapest trap camera I could find, the kind that claims it's dungeon-proof but comes with a warning label that says Do Not Expose to Moisture, Fire, or Dragons.
Midnight rolled by.
Nothing.
Then, around 1 a.m., I heard it.
The faint sound of a basket being... pushed?
Not carried.
Not dragged.
Pushed.
I peeked over the counter, and my brain took a full three seconds to process what I was seeing.
A shopping basket.
Floating.
Slowly gliding down the aisle.
It paused in front of the candy display. A bag of gummy worms floated up and gently placed itself in the basket.
Then chips.
Then soda.
Then a family-sized pack of squid jerky.
The basket turned and started heading toward the dungeon entrance.
I just stood there. Because on the one hand, I was witnessing proof that the dungeon was alive. On the other hand, it was so polite.
I mean, it even stopped to put back a bag of chips after realizing it had too much. I've had human customers with worse manners.
When it reached the door, I couldn't help it.
I blurted, "Hey! Are you gonna pay for that?"
The basket froze. Slowly, a single gold coin floated over and landed with a perfect clink in the tip jar.
Then it vanished into the darkness of Floor One.
The next morning, I checked the trap camera footage.
And there it was, a shadowy figure, tall, vaguely humanoid, carrying the basket and wearing a tote bag that read.
"Ryu's Dungeon Store"
So now I have two options.
Ignore it, and accept that my best-paying customer might be... the dungeon itself.
Follow it, and find out what happens to people who interrupt the dungeon's grocery run.
Knowing my luck, I'll probably do both.