The northern fish market of Grimoir wasn't supposed to feel this alive. No stench, no filth. Just endless rows of shimmering tanks and the constant murmur of trade echoing beneath high, glass-domed ceilings. It was clean. Too clean, compared to the version burned into Jack's memories.
He walked past towering aquariums and glistening stalls, his reflection warping against the glass where schools of silverfish darted. Eight years ago, this place had been a nest of chaos—reek, fights, and backroom deals. Now, it looked like a place he didn't belong.
"Jack? It's been a while," a middle-aged fishmonger greeted, flashing a warm smile. "What brings you here all of a sudden?"
He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Been busy. Ever since I became the breadwinner, I barely have time to breathe, let alone deal with college crap."
The woman nodded knowingly. "At least you're keeping healthy. How's your mother? Your younger sibling?"
"They're fine."
