The city felt different after the guild incident.JP swore he could feel eyes on his back whenever he crossed the merchant district, as though invisible strings tugged him closer to danger. Lyra walked beside him, her hood low and her silence sharper than usual.
"Don't look now," she muttered as they turned down a side street, "but we've been followed since the square."
JP's stomach dropped. "You mean the guy with the crooked hat?"
"No. The one pretending to read the same sign for the third time."
Right. Smooth.They needed to keep a low profile, which meant no flashy inventions and no drawing attention. Easy in theory, but harder when JP's livelihood was inventions.
To pass time, they took a harmless herb-gathering quest posted at the guild—cheap, easy work meant for newbies. At least it got them out of the city gates and away from the looming merchant guild banners.
The fields outside smelled sweet with blooming flowers, though JP's back ached from bending and snipping the little green stalks. Lyra moved gracefully, filling her pouch with practiced ease. JP, meanwhile, muttered to himself as he crouched by a patch of herbs.
"Alright, just pluck… and store." He tapped his satchel. Inventory.
The herb disappeared with a shimmer, popping neatly into the dimensional space. JP grinned. This was going to save so much time. He got carried away, pulling herbs, rocks, even a loose branch into his satchel until it was bulging.
A village kid wandered past the fields, watching curiously."Hey mister, is your bag magic?"
"Uh—" JP froze. He reached inside to show a single herb. Instead, his hand sank elbow-deep into the satchel, and when he yanked it out—
A cascade of items exploded from the opening.Herbs, stones, twigs, and one unlucky frog tumbled out in a heap.
"…Yes?" JP squeaked, face burning.
The kid's jaw dropped. Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You're terrible at being subtle," she hissed while helping him shove everything back. "Next time, remember we're being watched."
By the time the sun lowered, their sacks were full and their dignity half-empty. They delivered the herbs back at the guild for a small coin reward, avoiding eye contact with the smirking receptionist.
But as JP stepped outside, he spotted him—the man "reading" the same noticeboard, still in the exact same spot, eyes flicking toward them.
Lyra's hand drifted toward her cloak, voice low. "They're not going away. The merchants know you're more than you pretend."
JP tightened his grip on the satchel. For now, he'd play the fool. But deep down, he knew: the merchants' shadow was creeping closer with every step.