The tavern was warm and noisy, filled with laughter, dice clattering, and the smell of roasted meat. JP sat at the corner table with Lyra, poking at a bowl of stew that had gone cold. His nerves hadn't settled since the Guild Summons. Every time someone glanced their way, he swore they were staring at his satchel.
"Relax," Lyra murmured, sipping her wine. "Paranoia makes you obvious."
"Paranoia keeps me alive," JP shot back, clutching the bag tighter under the table.
Before she could reply, a shadow fell over them. A merchant in a velvet coat, gold chain glinting at his neck, slid into the seat opposite without asking. His grin was all teeth, the kind you'd expect from a wolf just before it lunged.
"Adventurer JP," the man said smoothly. "Quite the stir you caused at the Guild. My name is Master Corven. I represent a… coalition of traders who admire your talents."
JP forced a weak smile. "I'm flattered. But I'm not really a—"
"A merchant? Perhaps not yet," Corven interrupted, waving a jeweled hand. "But your… tools. Your stakes, your lamps, your trinkets. We would like to help you reach the right hands. Imagine it—your name known throughout the city, coin flowing freely. All you need to do is sign a contract. Exclusive, of course. No need to dirty yourself with market stalls or haggle with peasants. We'll handle everything."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. JP's stomach churned. It sounded sweet, but his instincts screamed trap.
"And if I say no?" JP asked carefully.
Corven's grin widened. "Ah. Let us not speak of unpleasant things. Refusals only complicate matters. Think of your safety. Think of your… master's legacy. Wouldn't it be a shame if reckless adventuring robbed the world of your brilliance?"
The implication was clear. Refuse, and danger would come.
JP tried to laugh it off, though it came out high-pitched. "Oh, uh, thanks, but I like haggling with peasants. Builds character. I'll… pass."
The merchant's eyes chilled. His smile never faltered, but his voice dropped. "A pity. Refusals are so often… temporary. Enjoy your evening, Inventor."
He stood and left, his coat brushing the edge of their table.
JP exhaled only when the man vanished into the crowd. His spoon clattered back into the stew. "Okay. That wasn't ominous at all."
Lyra leaned closer, voice low. "He just put a mark on us. The guild wasn't wrong—you are being watched. From now on, assume every step outside will be shadowed."
JP groaned, slumping against the table. "Great. First I lie about having a scary old master, now I've got debt collectors in velvet. What's next? A dragon demanding royalties?"
Lyra smirked, though her eyes stayed sharp. "If one shows up, I'll let it eat you first."
Despite the humor, both of them knew the truth: the game had changed. The merchants weren't just circling anymore—they'd already bared their fangs.