•Tumble-Top Towers Game Stall•
[Ovelia's POV]
We reached the front of the game stall, pushing through the ring of onlookers. A young man with a blue bandana tied around his head was just finishing his turn. He threw his last small, brightly painted wooden ball. It struck the base of a pyramid of stacked wooden cups with a solid thwack, but only the top two layers wobbled and fell. The rest remained stubbornly upright. The man's shoulders slumped, and a collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the watching crowd. The stall attendant, a spry young man, moved with practiced speed, swiftly gathering the fallen cups and restacking them into a perfect, tapering tower.
Then the stall owner, a middle-aged man with a shrewd glint in his eye, spotted us. His smile widened, transforming from polite to predatory. He rubbed his hands together.
