The clinking of coins in his pouch reminded JP of something he had nearly forgotten.
Lyra.
It wasn't just the silver he'd made off the crystals. He still owed her for that first night in the inn—the night her spare copper had kept him from sleeping on the street.
I can't keep putting it off, he thought, adjusting his satchel. A debt unpaid is a weakness. And I don't need more of those in this world.
He found her near the fountain square, cloak drawn as usual. Her pale eyes caught him instantly, as though she had been expecting him.
"JP," she said simply.
He pulled out two small coins, pressing them into her hand. "This should cover what I borrowed. And… lunch is on me today."
Her brow arched slightly. "A rare gesture."
"Don't get used to it," JP smirked. "But I pay back what I owe."
They sat at a modest tavern, steam rising from bowls of stew. JP ate slowly this time, savoring the warmth, while Lyra remained poised, her gaze sharp even when relaxed.
"You've been… scarce these last few days," she said casually, stirring her stew.
JP forced a shrug. "Needed time to think. Get used to the pace of things here."
She didn't press, but her silence said she wasn't convinced.
She's watching me too closely, he realized. And for someone so guarded, she's awfully curious about me. Why?
After the meal, they walked together toward the guild hall. Adventurers bustled in and out, parchment fluttering on the quest board.
JP scanned the postings, but Lyra was already moving. "I'll take this one," she said, plucking a slip for a courier run.
"Going separate today?" JP asked.
"Best to spread our efforts. Quests pay more that way." Her answer was too neat, too practiced.
JP grabbed a low-risk herb-gathering request. "Fine by me."
As they parted, JP glanced back once. Lyra was already speaking with the clerk, her hood tilted low, her voice just out of reach.
She's hiding something. Not just from me—from everyone.
And while JP wasn't about to spill his secrets, he knew better than to blindly trust someone who carried their own.
That evening, back outside the village walls, JP lit his Mana Lamp, its soft glow bathing the woods in blue-white light. He thought of Lyra, her guarded expression, her careful words.
"She's useful… but dangerous," he muttered to himself. "Until I know what she's hiding, I keep my inventions to myself."
The lamp hummed faintly in his palm, and JP smiled.
"In the end, I can only trust what I build with my own two hands."