"Now, in which part of the western slums can I find the black market?" I mumbled to myself, stepping deeper into the tangled, grimy streets of the slums. The main roads had already faded behind me, replaced by cracked stone paths littered with scraps, broken crates, and the occasional rat tail darting into shadows. The air here was different—thicker, more humid, laced with the scent of burnt herbs, unwashed bodies, and distant cooking fires.
To avoid attracting too much attention, especially given how noticeable I usually looked, I wrapped myself up in my long, black-and-red coat. The thick, dramatic fabric was warm, sure, but it offered the benefit of masking my demi-human traits. My tail, unfortunately, was always a challenge—it dragged behind me at nearly a meter and a half, impossible to fully hide unless I wrapped it around my waist like some bizarre sash. Even then, it still twitched with my mood, often giving me away.
I sighed, adjusting the plain white mask I wore, one that only had eye holes and a faint shimmer of ice magic dancing across its surface. Since I lacked any illusion skills, this mask was the best I could manage. "I should've asked for something with a voice muffler," I muttered as I brushed a strand of hair back into the hood. However, my goal was to evade recognition from anyone. No tails wagging, no ears twitching. Just a quiet, anonymous, totally-not-suspicious girl skulking through the slums."
Looking up at the sky, I squinted at the amber hue that bathed the upper walls of the buildings. The sun was beginning to set, just a hand's width from the horizon. Still too bright for true secrecy, but getting there.
"Shit," I groaned under my breath. "I probably should have waited for sunset... and let Kayda know what I was doing. Maybe leave a note at least."
I scratched at the back of my neck, letting the thought drift. Then, more to reassure myself than anything, I added, "Nah. I'll just walk around until all the dwellers come out. Slums are always more alive at night, anyway."
(Three hours later)
I was perched on the crumbling roof of what looked like an abandoned watchtower, a skeleton of stone and rusted wood left to rot in the middle of the slums. The place gave me a decent vantage point—tall enough to see down the narrow alleyways, low enough to stay hidden under the growing shadows of night.
For the past two hours, I'd been sitting with my legs swinging lazily off the edge, silently watching. My tail hung beside me like a lazy banner, occasionally curling when I shifted positions. Boredom was setting in hard.
But at last, the streets began to change. Dim, flickering lanterns were lit one by one, creating a mosaic of warm gold against the chill blue of night. Dwellers emerged like ghosts—hooded figures, grim-faced men, and wiry boys all moving with the familiarity of those born in alleyways. They passed coins beneath cloaks, shared drinks in broken mugs, and swapped goods from bags that looked heavier than they should.
"Finally," I whispered to myself, standing and brushing dust off my coat. "Time to check out the black market."
I crouched at the edge of the roof, eyes sweeping the road below. Dozens of candidates moved in and out of view, but I wasn't about to follow just anyone. Too risky. Too noisy.
'Now, I just need to decide whom to follow...' I thought, narrowing my eyes.
First, I spotted an old man with a disheveled gray beard, his back slightly hunched as he walked closer toward the center of the city. His clothes were ragged but neat, his step slow but deliberate. Experienced.
Then, a small group of guys in their twenties ambled down the alleys, whispering to each other with unsettling grins on their faces. One of them kept looking over his shoulder like he was hoping someone was tailing them. Sloppy. Probably bait.
Not feeling particularly inclined to follow idiots, I turned my attention to a third figure—a person roughly my height, wrapped in a cloak similar to mine. They moved carefully, glancing around only once or twice before ducking into an alley with practiced ease.
"Hmm…" I murmured, eyes darting between them. "Nah. Let's go with the old man. He seems like a classic informant type."
Ten minutes later, after keeping a safe distance, I found myself outside an aged building nestled between a pawnshop and a boarded-up bathhouse. A crooked wooden sign swung gently above the entrance, the letters reading: Timms's Bar. A worn groove in the ground below the doorway suggested plenty of traffic.
"I guess bars are good free info brokers," I mumbled, stepping forward and gently pushing the door open.
Ding!
A small bell above the door chimed brightly as I entered.
The room inside was dim, lit mostly by flickering candles and a single magical orb floating near the center beam. Silence fell as soon as I stepped in. Dozens of eyes turned to look at me—most exhausted, some suspicious, and a few outright hostile.
Not one to back down from a crowd, I sauntered up to the bar and sat at the nearest open stool, making sure to keep my posture relaxed and confident.
Behind the counter, surprisingly, stood a young demon girl with jet-black hair and two small, sharp red horns peeking through her bangs. Her expression was unreadable, calm but alert.
"Welcome to Timms's Bar. What can I get you?" she asked, smoothed her voice smooth and practiced.
I tilted my head slightly, curious. "Aren't you a bit too young to be working at a bar?"
Several gasps rippled from nearby patrons.
The demon girl didn't flinch. She smiled sweetly, ducked down behind the bar, and popped back up—holding five large jugs of sake in each hand like they weighed nothing.
"Ten sakes it is then," she said casually, setting them all in front of me with a loud thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
I blinked, taken aback by her strength. "I take it back. Holding five of those in one hand… You're a really skilled old lady."
Another wave of gasps filled the bar.
"Just shut up!" someone yelled from a nearby table, followed by others chiming in.
I tilted my head, confused. "Did I say that out loud?"
The girl's smile widened. "Too late to take it back. That'll be another ten."
And just like that, she stacked ten more jugs of sake onto the already teetering pile.
'Shit. I thought, "Where is an alcoholic when you need one?" while staring at the miniature tower of doom in front of me.
"If you don't finish that in thirty minutes," the demon girl added, her voice sugary-sweet, "I'll give you another ten to drink, girly."
"Y-Yes, boss," I said, and dispelled the lower part of my mask so I could start drinking.
The first sip hit like fire and ice—smooth but burning all the way down.
"So it's a magic mask," the demon girl said, not moving from her spot in front of me.
"Of course," I replied between gulps. "How else is a foodie like me supposed to eat?"
"What's a foodie?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"Someone who lives to eat. Loves it." I finished the first jug and set it on the bar with a sharp clunk.
"At least your mouth isn't just for insults," she muttered, glancing at the empty jug.
"Huh? I wasn't insulting you. Not intentionally, anyway." I paused, then added, "Well, maybe the last one was."
"Yeah, whatever you say." She gave me a skeptical look, then scanned me again.
"But Miss Demon Girl, shouldn't you be working instead of checking me out?" I teased, giving her a sly glance.
"Nope. You're new. And interesting," she said plainly. "I know everyone else in this place. However, you are a rare find."
"Oh great," I groaned. "So I'm a showpiece now."
"Pretty much. And maybe slow down? You've already finished ten jugs. It hasn't even been ten minutes."
I pointed at her. "Says the demon who gave them to me."
"Little?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
"What? You're short. So, little."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Whatever. What brings a rich person like you to the slums?"
"Rich?" I looked down at my coat. "Oh, this? I didn't buy it. I'm actually the poorest person here. Got robbed by an old bag of bones this afternoon."
"What stole your money?"
"An old lady," I said with a dramatic sigh.
"Damn," she muttered, then leaned in. "Didn't buy it? How'd you get that coat?"
"A girl I'm with bought it for me."
"Ohh," she said knowingly. "Someone important, huh?"
I nodded. "Probably my future wife."
"Well, damn. That's very important."
"Mhm." I downed another jug and set it down. "Been looking all over town to find her a present today. But nothing I saw felt right."
"What do you think would suit her?"
"White," I said instantly, remembering the dress she wore once. "She's just… perfect in white."
"A wedding dress?" she teased.
"No! That's far too early!" I blurted, flustered.
She laughed. "Alright, alright. I can try to get you to a better market for gifts."
"Sammy, don't you think it's too early to talk about that stuff?" A man at the bar called over.
"Hey!" I snapped. "It's not polite to eavesdrop."
"She's already drunk. "She won't remember a thing," Sammy said with a grin.
She's not wrong. But I have a feeling I'll remember this night forever, I thought, squinting at my tenth jug.
"So the young demon's name is Sammy," I said aloud.
"Yes. Nice to meet you. And you?"
"Alice," I replied, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you too."
"Great. Now follow me," she said, walking into the kitchen.
"Follow you? Alrighty." I stood, placed both palms on the bar, and leapt—only to slip on spilled sake.
Crash!
I tumbled, knocking over glasses, chairs, and part of the bar on the way down.
"What happened?" Sammy called, poking her head back.
"I slipped. My bad," I groaned, fixing my coat and picking myself up.
"What did you do?!" she hissed.
"You said to follow! I didn't see the door—thought I'd hop over."
"Dummy, the door's right there," she pointed, deadpan.
"…Oops."
She stared at the cracked bar. "How the hell did you break that? That bar takes my punches."
'Girl, you're not that strong,' I thought. 'Level 400 uncommon isn't impressive.'
"If you're wondering, no—I'm not fat. I'm just muscular," I added out loud with a grin, pushing her back into the kitchen.
"Hey! You're paying for that!" someone shouted from behind.
"Shit. Sammy! Know anywhere I can sell stuff right now?"
"It's your lucky day," she smirked, walking through a door behind the kitchen that led to a narrow stairwell descending into the dark. "The black market auction is tonight."
"Black market auction?" I echoed, following her into the depths.
"That'll work," I whispered, grinning under my mask as the darkness swallowed us both.