I arrived at the Lower Market ten minutes early, soaking in the chaotic energy of New Vein's underbelly. Neon signs bathed the narrow street entrance in garish blues and pinks, illuminating the throngs of people hustling through the security checkpoints. Vendors called out their wares in at least three different languages. The smell of street food—grilled meat, frying oil, and sweet pastries—mingled with the metallic tang of Monster Core fragments being hawked at unlicensed stalls.
This was my kind of place. The old me—Kaelen—had practically lived in spots like this back in Tokyo. Places where rules bent, where cash talked, and where you could find anything if you knew who to ask.
I leaned against a concrete wall plastered with faded recruitment posters for the various Hunter guilds, pulling my dark hoodie lower over my face. The fabric no longer strained across my stomach. After a month of brutal workouts, my body was slowly transforming from blob to bulk. Still big, still heavy, but the shape was changing. The System had even rewarded me with twenty-five more points in Strength yesterday after I'd managed a hundred push-ups without stopping.
[Current seduction progress: 18%. Would you like to review potential dialog options for maximum impact?]
Fuck off, I know how to talk to women.
[Previous data suggests otherwise] the System replied with its usual digital smugness. [Would you like to hear my assessment of your chances based on current parameters?]
A flash of purple caught my eye through the crowd, and there she was—trying and failing to blend in. She'd attempted a casual look with designer jeans and a lightweight jacket, but everything about her screamed "money." The way she walked, head high, shoulders back, like she expected the crowd to part for her. The nervous way she kept touching her pocket, probably checking that her expensive phone was still there.
It was almost funny watching her try to navigate the chaos. A princess lost in the slums. Her face cycled between disgust and anxiety as she was jostled by the crowd.
I pushed off the wall and moved toward her, slipping through the throng with an ease that came from my previous life. Big as I was, I knew how to move in crowds. How to use my size to create space rather than stumble through it.
I reached her just as a particularly rough shove from a passing vendor nearly knocked her off balance.
"Lost, little fox?" I asked, steadying her with a hand on her elbow.
Natalia jumped, violet eyes widening before narrowing into a glare. "I'm not lost!" She shrugged my hand off. "And don't call me that."
I grinned, enjoying how easily I could ruffle her feathers. "We need callsigns for the mission, right? Let's workshop it."
"Callsigns?" She wrinkled her nose. "This isn't one of your stupid video games."
"No, it's an illegal Gate run where we can't use our real names," I countered, lowering my voice and leaning closer. "Unless you want everyone to know that the daughter of the great Luka Kuzmina is breaking Hunter Commission regulations?"
That shut her up. She glanced around nervously, checking if anyone had heard.
"Fine," she hissed. "But 'Little Fox' is ridiculous."
"Just Fox, then," I suggested, guiding her toward the market entrance with a light touch on her back. "Suits you."
"How exactly does it suit me?" Her voice dripped with skepticism, but she didn't pull away from my touch.
"Foxes are clever. Adaptable." I flashed her a grin. "And they have a reputation for being beautiful but dangerous."
A faint blush colored her cheeks before she could mask it with her usual scowl.
"Whatever," she muttered. "What's your brilliant callsign going to be?"
"I was thinking 'Oni,'" I said as we passed through the security checkpoint, flashing the fabricated day passes I'd purchased online.
"The demon?" She raised an eyebrow. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"
The Lower Market was a labyrinth of stalls and shops built within and around the ruins of pre-Rupture buildings. The crowd inside was even denser, bodies pressing against each other as shoppers haggled over everything from low tier Monster Cores to counterfeit designer clothes.
"Stay close," I said, leading her deeper into the chaos. "It's easy to get separated."
"I can handle myself," she huffed, but she moved closer to me anyway.
I navigated us through the crowd, past stalls selling street food and cheap electronics, toward the section I'd researched beforehand. The Hunter gear vendors were clustered in what had once been a parking garage, their stalls illuminated by strings of bare bulbs that cast long shadows across concrete floors.
"How do you know where you're going?" Natalia asked, struggling to keep up with my pace. "I thought you never left the house."
"Research," I replied. "I've been planning for the entrance exam for weeks."
"But why in a place like… this?"
"Not everyone can afford Celestial Sentinel gear straight from the manufacturer."
That seemed to hit a nerve. She fell silent, her eyes taking in the sights around us with a new curiosity.
We reached a stall piled high with used Hunter gear—reinforced jackets, armored pants, boots with impact absorbers. Nothing top-tier, but solid equipment that had seen action and survived to tell the tale.
"This is where we start," I said, picking up a reinforced jacket that looked about my size. "Basic gear that won't stand out but will offer some protection."
Natalia hesitantly touched a pair of gloves. "How do we know this stuff isn't stolen?"
"We don't," I answered honestly. "But we're not exactly on the moral high ground here, are we?"
She frowned but didn't argue the point.
We spent the next hour picking through gear, testing fits and haggling with the vendor—or rather, I haggled while Natalia looked increasingly impressed by my ability to talk down prices. I'd learned a thing or two about negotiation in my previous life, and it was satisfying to put those skills to use again.
By the time we left the stall, we each had a bag of basic Hunter equipment: reinforced clothing, impact-resistant boots, utility belts, and simple comm units.
"That's the easy part done," I said, checking the time on my phone. "Now for the disguises."
I led her deeper into the market, to a section that felt more like a festival than a shopping center. Here, the stalls sold masks, wigs, and costume pieces, many inspired by traditional Japanese designs but with futuristic twists.
"Why do they sell so many masks here?" Natalia asked, eyeing the colorful displays.
"Hunter culture," I explained. "After the Rupture, a lot of early Hunters wore masks to hide their identities. It became a tradition, especially for independent operators who don't want the publicity or the attention from the bigger guilds."
She looked at me with genuine surprise. "How do you know all this?"
I tapped my temple. "Research, remember? I might have been a lazy piece of shit before, but I'm not stupid."
The honesty in my statement seemed to catch her off guard. She studied my face for a moment, like she was seeing something new.
"No," she said finally. "I don't think you are."
We stopped at a stall overflowing with masks of all designs—from simple domino styles to elaborate creations resembling monsters and mythological creatures.
"We need something that covers enough of our faces to hide our identities, but not so much that it restricts vision or breathing during combat," I said, examining the options.
"This isn't exactly combat," Natalia reminded me. "It's an E-Rank Gate. The monsters inside will be barely stronger than regular animals."
I picked up a fierce red oni mask with protruding horns and a snarling mouth. "This one." I held it up to my face. "For me. To scare off the monsters."
"It's... fitting," she admitted, her lips curving into a small smile.
I continued browsing, searching for something that would complement Natalia's features while concealing her identity. Then I spotted it—a white kitsune mask with delicate red markings around the eyes and whiskers etched into the surface. It was elegant but intimidating, exactly like her.
"And for you, Kitsune," I said, holding it out to her.
Natalia took it, her fingers brushing against mine. She held it up to her face, peering through the eyeholes.
"It's... acceptable," she conceded, but I could tell she was pleased.
The vendor, a middle-aged woman with arms covered in tattoos, grinned at us. "A matching set for the young couple, eh? The Oni and the Kitsune—a classic pairing."
"We're not—" Natalia began, but I cut her off.
"How much for both?" I asked, pulling out my wallet.
After another round of haggling that left the vendor smiling despite taking less than her asking price, we had our masks and some compact communication units that would allow us to talk while wearing them.
"We should get some generic weapons next," I said, nodding toward another section of the market. "Nothing too flashy, but enough to handle E-Rank monsters."
As we turned to leave, the crowd suddenly surged around us, a wave of bodies pushing toward a vendor who had just announced a flash sale on discounted Monster Core fragments. Natalia stumbled, nearly losing her balance in the crush.
Without thinking, I reached out and took her hand, my fingers closing firmly around hers. Her hand was smaller than mine, but not delicate—there were calluses from her training, strength in her grip.
She tensed immediately, and I expected her to pull away with a cutting remark. But she didn't. After a moment of hesitation, her fingers tightened around mine.
I looked down at our joined hands, then back at her face. She wasn't looking at me, was deliberately avoiding my gaze, but she wasn't letting go either.
"This way," I said. I gave her hand a light squeeze and pulled her through the crowd, creating a path with my size. "Wouldn't want to lose my partner."
She didn't reply, but she followed, her grip firm in mine.
As we navigated through the throng, I felt the System ping in my head.
[Seduction progress: 23%.]
For once, I didn't have a sarcastic response for the System. I was too busy noticing how the warmth of her palm seemed to travel up my arm and settle somewhere in my chest.
A place I thought had gone cold long ago.