Chapter 2
The scent of dried herbs and crushed citrus peel clung to the stall like a second skin.
Ghost stood beside it, hands tucked beneath his patched poncho, watching the early morning crowd stir to life. The merchant, a stocky man with a beard like burnt straw, moved quickly, arranging baskets and bundles with practiced ease.
"Here," the man grunted, tossing Ghost a small leather pouch. "Take this to old Mai. She's got a shop near the southern square. Ask for dried plum, get the roots instead. She'll know what I mean."
Ghost caught the pouch, nodded. No questions. Questions drew attention.
The man's eyes crinkled slightly as he turned back to his wares. "And don't dawdle. If you're quick, there's bread waiting."
Ghost slipped into the flow of the street. He moved like smoke—present, but unnoticed. The city, still unfamiliar in many ways, had begun to sketch itself in his mind: the alley shortcuts, the markets, the safe corners to vanish into. That knowledge was its own form of power.
The system hadn't said anything today.
That didn't surprise him. It wasn't constant. It didn't speak. It simply was—a quiet presence, waiting.
The southern square lay a quarter-mile away, past a weaving maze of foot traffic, narrow lanes, and shopfronts thick with shouting customers. Ghost slipped between them like a ghost should, brushing no one, eyes always moving.
He passed a group of boys his age—street kids like him, but in a pack. One shoved another and laughed, too loud. Ghost's Danger Sense flickered—not sharply, but a subtle edge.
He gave them a wide berth.
The shop was small, crammed into a crooked building that looked like it had been grafted onto the street as an afterthought. The sign was a carved plum, faded by sun and time. Ghost stepped inside.
The woman inside had gray hair tied in a long braid and a face like carved stone.
"You're not one of his regulars," she said without looking up.
"Here for roots," Ghost said simply, holding out the pouch.
She took it, sniffed, then disappeared into the back.
When she returned, she handed him a small bundle wrapped in oiled paper. Her eyes lingered on him longer this time.
"You're not just a runner," she said.
Ghost blinked.
"You've got the eyes," she murmured. "Street ones. Hungry ones."
He turned without replying.
Back on the road, he took the longer route. His instincts said to avoid the direct alley. Too quiet. Too narrow.
The Danger Sense twitched again near a cart stacked high with cabbages. He moved across the street without changing his expression. A moment later, a man tried to snatch a coin pouch from someone behind him. Not him. Not yet.
The stall came back into view. The merchant looked up, grunted approval.
"Quick. Good." He handed Ghost a wrapped chunk of fresh bread. "Eat. Then I'll have more."
The system shimmered.
> [Task Chain Initiated: Establishing Role – Errand Boy]
Progress: 1/5
Complete five delivery missions for reward
Bonus objective: Avoid all direct confrontation (3/5 successful so far)
Ghost chewed slowly, warmth spreading through his stomach. The task chain was new. He hadn't seen one before. But it made sense. The system wasn't guiding his life, only responding to it.
The more he did, the more it recognized.
---
By the time the sun set, Ghost had completed three more deliveries.
One had taken him into the city's border markets, where foreign traders set up booths under canvas tarps. He returned from that trip with a tiny bronze bell tucked into his inventory—a reward from a [Daily Task Completed: Navigate Three Market Zones].
The bell had no description. Just weight and silence.
Still, he kept it.
That night, sleeping under a canvas tarp behind the shop's storehouse, Ghost pulled up his inventory.
> Inventory:
Rusted Pocket Knife (D-Rank)
Rope Scrap (Common)
Tin Cup (Common)
Small Bronze Bell (Uncommon)
Stealth Template Lv. 1 (Passive)
Danger Sense Lv. 1 (Passive)
His hands itched to roll again. But the system hadn't offered one.
Not yet.
He closed his eyes. Sleep didn't come quickly, but eventually, exhaustion won.
---
The third morning, trouble found him.
He was halfway through an errand when the boys from before—four of them, two taller—stepped into the mouth of the alley ahead.
"Hey," one said. "Ghost, right?"
Ghost didn't reply.
"We've seen you running around. Heard you got yourself a job. Think that means you're better than us?"
He took a step back. The Danger Sense spiked.
"Let's see what you're carrying," the biggest one said.
They advanced.
Ghost ran.
He darted left into a narrow walkway. His footsteps barely sounded, but theirs clattered behind him. The knife was in his hand in a second, but he didn't stop.
The system shimmered.
> [Mission Generated: Escape Pursuers]
Objective: Reach safe zone without being caught
Bonus Objective: No injuries sustained
He leapt a crate, slid beneath a wagon axle, and doubled back into a gap between buildings. His lungs burned. His eyes scanned constantly.
One boy caught sight of him, reached—Ghost ducked and rolled. The blade flashed once—not to stab, but to slash at a loose tarp. It fell between them, cutting off sight.
He didn't look back.
The smell of dried herbs hit him like salvation.
He tumbled back behind the shop, gasping.
The system pinged.
> [Mission Completed: Escape Pursuers]
Bonus Objective Complete
Reward: 1x Uncommon Roll
He spun it immediately.
> [Reward: Minor Agility Boost – Passive Applied]
The world slowed slightly. His thoughts clicked faster.
He leaned against the wall, sweat drying fast in the cold air. The knife stayed in his hand a moment longer before he tucked it away.
He was still weak. Still small.
But he was getting faster.
Smarter.
Stronger.
And the wheel kept turning.