The first thing Tyche noticed was the ceiling.
It wasn't familiar, which was unfortunate, but the second thing he noticed was the pain spreading through his body, and that was considerably more familiar.
He stared upward for several seconds, his vision still somewhat blurry as he tried to make sense of the wooden beams stretching across the ceiling above him. They were old, darkened with age, and spaced unevenly, with thin strands of cobwebs hanging between them. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the faint creaking of wood and the occasional muffled sound of something moving.
He didn't recognize any of it.
...Where the hell am I?
Tyche resisted the urge to turn his head, choosing instead to examine what little he could see without moving. The ceiling was too high, the air smelled of old wood and dust, and whatever he was lying on was considerably softer than the cold stone floors he'd grown accustomed to.
Someone had moved him, which meant someone had found him, and considering how his day had gone, that wasn't necessarily a good thing.
Okay... Think.
His eyes slowly drifted shut, though not because he wanted to sleep. Quite the opposite, actually. He had no intention of letting whoever had brought him here know he was awake until he understood what kind of situation he'd gotten himself into.
He relaxed his face, allowing his mouth to hang slightly open as he settled back into the position he'd woken in. His breathing remained slow and steady, though maintaining it proved difficult with the dull ache spreading through his chest.
Then he listened.
For several seconds, there was nothing. No footsteps, no voices, and no breathing other than his own. Somewhere farther away, something wooden creaked, followed by a faint scraping noise that disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.
...Someone walking?
Tyche listened more carefully, waiting for the sound to repeat itself, but the room remained quiet.
Great. Either someone's here, or this place is falling apart.
Neither possibility was particularly comforting.
He considered opening one eye, just enough to look around, but quickly dismissed the idea. If someone was watching him, even the slightest movement could give him away, and he'd gotten himself out of plenty of unpleasant situations by pretending to be less aware than he actually was.
Although, admittedly, pretending to be unconscious was usually easier when he hadn't just woken up from actually being unconscious.
His thoughts slowly returned to the last things he remembered.
The underground, the eating area, the short figure he'd spotted, and the chase that followed.
Then came the brick.
A sudden throb pulsed through the back of his skull, almost as though his head had decided to remind him of the encounter before his memories could finish doing so.
...Ah. Right.
He'd been hit in the head, several times if his memory was correct, and judging by the pounding sensation spreading from the back of his skull toward his temples, whoever had been swinging that brick hadn't been particularly gentle about it.
The first blow had been bad enough, but everything afterward was a confusing collection of pain, stumbling footsteps, and the unpleasant sensation of the ground rushing toward his face.
He vaguely remembered someone grabbing him, followed by shouting and what might have been an explosion, though he couldn't tell whether he'd actually heard it or dreamed it.
Then there was nothing.
Well, that's reassuring.
The harder he tried to remember, the worse the throbbing became, until even the simple act of thinking made him feel slightly nauseous.
Okay. Definitely not thinking about that.
Instead, he focused on his surroundings again.
He still hadn't heard anyone approach, which meant he was either alone or whoever was nearby was being unusually quiet.
He didn't particularly like that second possibility.
Very carefully, he shifted one of his fingers beneath the blanket.
Nothing happened.
He moved another, then attempted to adjust his arm, only for a sharp pain to shoot through his ribs.
"Ghh-!"
The sound escaped before he could stop it, and his entire body stiffened as he immediately went still, squeezing his eyes shut while waiting for someone to react.
One second passed, then another.
Nothing.
...Okay. Maybe nobody heard that.
He waited a little longer before finally allowing himself to relax.
Good. Not doing that again.
For a moment, he simply lay there, trying to ignore the pain spreading through his side.
Then he noticed something.
Something was wrong.
Not with the room or his injuries, but something else entirely.
His chest felt strangely light.
Tyche's eyes snapped open, and he slowly lowered his gaze toward his collar, which lay loosely against his skin.
There was nothing beneath it.
His breathing stopped.
...No.
He immediately raised a trembling hand toward his neck, searching beneath his collar and along the fabric where a familiar piece of string should have been resting.
Nothing.
No, no, no...
He searched again, this time more desperately, feeling beneath the blanket as though the missing object might somehow have slipped farther down.
Still nothing.
Where is it? Where's my coin?
All thoughts of pretending to be unconscious disappeared as Tyche tried sitting up, ignoring the pain that shot through his body while his eyes darted around the unfamiliar room.
The bed, the table, the floor.
Nothing.
His heart began pounding.
No. No, it has to be here.
He leaned toward the edge of the bed, searching the floor beneath it, only for another sharp pain to tear through his ribs.
"Looking for something?"
Tyche froze.
His entire body went rigid, and for one brief moment, even the panic over his missing coin vanished beneath a much more immediate sensation.
Fear.
Someone was here.
Someone had been here the entire time.
And he hadn't noticed them.
Not a footstep, not a breath, not even the faintest rustle of clothing.
He'd spent all that time lying perfectly still, listening for the slightest indication that he wasn't alone, and somehow, someone had been sitting close enough to speak directly beside him.
...How?
Tyche's eyes remained fixed on the floor as his thoughts raced through several possibilities, none of which he particularly liked.
Had the man been watching him the entire time? Had he seen him pretending to sleep? More importantly, how had he managed to remain so completely unnoticed?
Tyche swallowed.
He'd spent enough time in the underground to know that someone capable of concealing their presence so thoroughly was rarely someone worth provoking.
Yet despite the sudden fear tightening his chest, he couldn't ignore the absence of that familiar weight against his neck.
His coin.
He needed his coin.
Slowly, and with considerable reluctance, Tyche turned his head toward the voice.
A man wearing a bucket over his head sat in a nearby chair, and between two fingers, he held a small coin attached to a worn piece of string.
Tyche stared.
"...That's mine."
The man tilted his head.
"Is it?"
Tyche nodded quickly.
"Yes."
The man examined the coin, turning it slightly between his fingers.
"Doesn't look particularly valuable."
"It isn't."
"Then why the panic?"
Tyche hesitated, his eyes following the coin as it moved.
"...It's mine."
The man remained silent for a moment before placing it on the table beside the bed.
"Fair enough."
Tyche immediately reached for it, closing his fingers around the small piece of metal before pulling it toward his chest.
He turned it over in his palm, pressing his thumb against its worn surface and tracing the familiar groove along its edge.
Once.
Then again.
His thumb eventually found a small indentation near the rim, one he'd felt so many times that he could have recognized it without looking.
...There.
A breath escaped his lips.
It was the same coin.
Not a replacement or something that merely looked similar, but the very one he'd been carrying for as long as he could remember.
Tyche carefully slipped the string around his neck, tucking the coin beneath his collar before adjusting the fabric to make sure it was properly hidden.
Only then did he look back at the stranger.
"Now," the man began, leaning forward slightly. "Since we've established that you're alive..."
The bucket tilted toward him.
"...How about we talk about the girl you were planning to sell out?"
Tyche froze.
...Ah.
He stared at the man sitting across from him, his fingers instinctively returning to the coin beneath his collar. The stranger remained perfectly still, waiting for an answer, though the bucket covering his head made it impossible to tell whether he was watching Tyche with suspicion, amusement, or something considerably worse.
Rather than answering immediately, Tyche began examining him more carefully.
His clothing was ordinary enough, though the bucket was certainly an unusual choice. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands rested comfortably, and there was nothing about his appearance that immediately suggested he was preparing to attack.
Then again, people rarely announced their intentions before doing something unpleasant.
Tyche's eyes drifted away from him, moving between the door, the window, and the space separating the bed from the opposite wall.
He took note of the furniture, the distance between himself and the exit, and anything within reach that might prove useful if things suddenly turned violent.
There wasn't much.
A small wooden table stood beside the bed, holding a cup of water and a few folded pieces of cloth. The chair occupied by the stranger was positioned between him and the door, while the window on the opposite wall appeared to be shut.
Wonderful. Not exactly a lot to work with.
"You're not getting out of here without giving me some answers, you know."
Tyche's eyes snapped back toward the man.
The stranger hadn't moved, and his tone was almost conversational, as though he'd merely pointed out something obvious rather than threatened to keep him there.
Tyche forced a small, uneasy smile.
"...Wasn't planning on going anywhere."
"Of course not."
He doesn't believe me.
That was unfortunate.
Tyche lowered his gaze, pretending to consider the question while his thoughts began working through something entirely different.
Alright. Think. Can I get out?
He took a slow breath, carefully assessing his condition.
His ribs hurt, his head was still throbbing, and judging by the way his vision occasionally blurred whenever he moved too quickly, he probably shouldn't have been sitting upright in the first place.
That wasn't particularly encouraging.
He flexed his fingers beneath the blanket, allowing a faint trace of mana to gather within them.
The familiar sensation answered, though not as strongly as he'd hoped.
...Not much.
He could still use mana, but his body was in terrible condition. Trying to force too much through himself would probably make things worse, and even if he managed a decent burst, he doubted he'd have enough strength left for a prolonged confrontation.
Which meant he had one chance.
A single, sudden movement that might catch the stranger off guard and give him enough time to reach the door.
Tyche glanced at the man again.
He's sitting.
That was something.
Getting up from a chair took time, even for someone reasonably quick. If Tyche could move before the stranger realized what was happening, he might be able to slip past him.
His gaze traveled over the man's posture, examining the relaxed shoulders, loose arms, and complete absence of tension in his legs.
He wasn't even leaning forward.
He's not expecting anything.
Or perhaps he simply wasn't worried.
Tyche frowned.
There was still one problem.
He hadn't sensed the man.
Not when he'd first woken up, not when he'd been lying there listening, and not even when he'd started moving around in search of his coin.
Someone had been sitting only a short distance away, and Tyche hadn't noticed so much as a breath.
...That's weird.
He looked at the stranger again, studying the bucket that remained pointed in his direction.
He couldn't see the man's face, couldn't read his expression, and couldn't tell whether he'd noticed the faint mana gathering around Tyche's fingers.
Tyche slowly released it.
Maybe he's just good at hiding his presence.
That wasn't impossible. There were plenty of people in the underground who knew how to conceal themselves, and Tyche had encountered more than a few who could slip through a crowd without drawing attention.
But this felt different.
His eyes moved upward, settling on the bucket itself.
It was a ridiculous thing to wear, a battered piece of metal polished just enough that its curved surface caught the light entering through the window.
Tyche stared at it.
And then he noticed something.
His reflection.
It was faint and distorted, stretched across the rounded metal in a way that made his face appear longer than it actually was. His green hair looked disheveled, his cheeks were pale, and the dark shadows beneath his eyes made him look considerably worse than he'd expected.
...I look awful.
He almost laughed.
Then the feeling came.
It began somewhere deep in his stomach, a sudden, unpleasant tightening that spread through his chest and crawled up the back of his neck.
Tyche stopped breathing.
His fingers went cold.
There was no sound, no movement, and nothing about the stranger had changed.
Yet every instinct he possessed was suddenly telling him the same thing.
Don't.
The thought was so immediate that it barely felt like his own.
Don't move. Don't try it.
Tyche's eyes widened slightly.
He knew that feeling.
He'd experienced it before, usually moments before something terrible happened.
Once, while walking through a crowded market, he'd felt it just as he was about to pass beneath a section of wooden scaffolding. There had been nothing particularly unusual about the structure, and the workers standing above it had seemed perfectly comfortable.
Yet something had made him stop.
He'd stepped backward, choosing to walk around the opposite side of the street instead.
A few moments later, the scaffolding collapsed.
Another time, he'd experienced the same sensation while gambling with a group of strangers. He'd been winning, too, and had every intention of continuing until the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach suddenly became impossible to ignore.
He'd collected his winnings and left.
Not long afterward, shouting erupted from the building, followed by the sound of someone screaming.
Apparently, one of the gamblers had accused another of cheating.
Tyche hadn't stayed around to find out how the argument ended.
Both times, he'd listened to the warning, and both times, he'd walked away from something that could have ended very badly.
He'd also ignored that feeling before, though those experiences were considerably less pleasant to remember.
It had never explained itself.
It simply appeared.
And whenever he'd ignored it, he'd regretted doing so.
This time, however, the warning was stronger than usual.
Much stronger.
Tyche stared at the warped reflection of himself in the bucket.
...Oh.
His shoulders slowly relaxed, and whatever foolish plan he'd been constructing vanished from his thoughts.
Nope. Absolutely not.
He wasn't going to rush the man, wasn't going to try using mana, and certainly wasn't going to pretend he had a chance.
Whatever was sitting in front of him, Tyche had no intention of finding out how strong it was.
Not today.
Probably not ever.
He loosened his grip on the coin and leaned back against the bed, careful not to aggravate his ribs.
The stranger tilted his head.
"Finished thinking?"
Tyche gave a nervous chuckle.
"...Something like that."
"Good."
Silence settled between them.
Tyche glanced at the door one last time before looking back at the man.
"...If I tell you, what do I get?"
"Out."
Tyche blinked.
"...Huh?"
"You can get out if you tell me."
He stared at the bucket.
Just like that?
That seemed suspiciously easy.
"...And if I don't?"
The stranger leaned back slightly.
"Then I'll grab you and sell you to the Pits."
Tyche's expression changed immediately.
"My name is Tyche! I'm seventeen years old, I do odd jobs here and there, I like corn, I enjoy gambling, eating, eating again, and being full, and-"
"Alright, alright."
The man raised a hand.
"I don't need to know all that, Tyche."
Tyche shut his mouth.
The stranger lowered his hand.
"I meant why you were chasing that girl."
"...Oh."
Tyche blinked.
Could've been more specific.
He cleared his throat.
"Well, I saw her poster."
"Poster?"
"Yeah. Someone was offering good coin for information about her whereabouts."
"And?"
"And I happened to see her."
The bucket tilted.
"Just happened to?"
Tyche nodded quickly.
"Completely by accident."
"You're telling me you weren't looking for her?"
"Of course not!"
Tyche seemed almost offended by the suggestion.
"Did you even read the poster? It said she was a Steel Rank fighter in the Underring!"
The stranger remained silent.
"I'm not stupid enough to go looking for someone like that. I don't care how much money they're offering. What's the point of getting paid if I'm dead before I can spend it?"
He shook his head, remembering how quickly he'd dismissed the reward when he'd first seen the poster. The amount had certainly caught his attention, enough that he'd stopped to read it twice, but the moment his eyes landed on the girl's rank in the Underring, any thought of actively searching for her disappeared.
Steel Rank.
Tyche knew enough about the Underring to understand that someone who'd reached that rank wasn't an ordinary fighter. Whatever battles she'd fought to get there, she'd survived enough of them to earn a reputation, and that alone was reason enough for him to stay away.
There were plenty of easier ways to make money in the underground, and while most of them paid considerably less, they also came with a much lower chance of getting his head separated from his shoulders.
Besides, I like my head exactly where it is.
"So you weren't looking for her," the stranger said. "Then how did you find her?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you! I wasn't looking for her at all!"
Tyche scratched his cheek.
"I was hungry, alright? I'd been wandering around trying to find something to eat, and there was this commotion nearby."
"Commotion?"
"Yeah. People were making noise, and I figured something interesting might be happening, so I turned to look."
He paused, recalling the moment.
There had been enough people moving around that he hadn't paid much attention at first. His stomach had been bothering him for most of the day, and he'd been far more interested in finding something to eat than getting involved in whatever trouble was unfolding nearby.
But then he'd turned his head.
And there she was.
For a brief moment, Tyche hadn't believed what he was seeing. The girl was sitting among the commotion, her face matching the one he'd seen on the poster so closely that he immediately recognized her.
...Wait.
He'd blinked.
Is that...?
Then recognition struck.
...No way.
It was her.
The Steel Rank fighter from the Underring.
And for one glorious moment, Tyche had forgotten all about the danger associated with the reward.
He hadn't gone looking for her, hadn't spent a single coin trying to track her down, and hadn't even needed to ask anyone for information.
She'd practically appeared right in front of him.
...I'm rich.
Well, not rich exactly, considering the broker would be taking a considerable portion of the reward, but certainly richer than he'd been a few moments earlier.
All he needed to do was remember where he'd seen her and pass the information along.
Unfortunately, his excitement hadn't lasted very long.
"Then what happened?" the stranger asked.
Tyche's expression soured.
"...Someone noticed me."
"Someone?"
"Yeah. There was a guy standing near her."
Tyche frowned as he recalled the moment.
He'd barely had time to process his discovery when the young man standing near the girl suddenly turned his head.
Their eyes met.
Tyche froze.
It hadn't been a passing glance, either. The young man had looked directly at him, and for one terrible moment, Tyche couldn't tell whether he'd simply been noticed or whether the stranger had somehow realized what he was thinking.
...Shit.
His excitement disappeared.
The girl was a Steel Rank fighter in the Underring, and whoever this young man was, he was standing close enough to her that Tyche immediately assumed he wasn't someone to take lightly.
After all, what kind of person casually accompanied a fighter of that rank?
Someone just as dangerous, obviously!
And if the young man had noticed him staring, there were only two possibilities Tyche could imagine.
Either he'd tell the girl someone had recognized her, or he'd decide to deal with Tyche himself.
Neither sounded particularly appealing.
"So I ran," Tyche finished.
The stranger tilted his bucket.
"You ran?"
"Of course I ran!"
"Why?"
Tyche stared at him.
"...Because I didn't want to die?"
The stranger remained silent.
"What was I supposed to do? Stand there and wait for him to come over? For all I knew, that guy was just as strong as her!"
Tyche threw his hands up before immediately regretting the movement as pain shot through his ribs.
"Ghh-!"
He lowered his arms, grimacing.
"Anyway, I wasn't about to stick around and find out. If he told her I was staring, she might've thought I was after the bounty, and if he decided to handle me himself, I'd be just as screwed!"
The stranger seemed to consider that.
"So you ran without even trying to collect the reward?"
"I could always collect it later! I just needed to get away first!"
Tyche frowned.
"Besides, I already knew where I'd seen her. I could've gone straight to the broker and told him everything without ever getting close to her."
He shook his head.
"That was the plan, anyway."
"What happened?"
Tyche looked away.
"...Things got complicated."
"How?"
"...A brick."
The stranger remained silent.
Tyche rubbed the back of his head, immediately regretting it when another dull throb passed through his skull.
"A very enthusiastic brick."
"I see."
"Yeah."
"And who were you planning to tell?"
Tyche looked up.
"Hm?"
"The person offering the money. Who was it?"
"Oh."
He thought for a moment.
"Someone named Rakkar."
The stranger went still.
"Rakkar?"
"Yeah."
"Rakkar..."
The man raised one hand toward his bucket, rubbing along the lower rim as though it were his chin.
"Rakkar... Rakkar..."
Tyche watched him.
"Hm."
The stranger continued rubbing the metal.
"That name sounds familiar. Can't quite remember where I've heard it, though."
Tyche shifted slightly.
"...Is that bad?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"Whether I remember."
That's not helpful.
The man continued thinking for several seconds before lowering his hand.
"Tell me about him."
Tyche frowned.
"About Rakkar?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't actually know him."
The bucket tilted.
"You don't know him?"
"Nope."
"Then how were you planning to collect the money?"
"Through a broker."
"A broker?"
"Yeah. Someone who handles that sort of thing."
The stranger folded his arms.
"Explain."
Tyche scratched his cheek, wondering how much detail he actually needed to provide.
"Well, the way it works is pretty simple. Someone puts out a reward for information, and people like me go looking for it. If we find something useful, we bring it to someone who can pass it along to the person offering the money."
"And this broker would have paid you?"
"Only a portion."
The bucket tilted slightly.
"A portion?"
"Yeah. He takes his cut, I take mine, and everyone gets what they want."
"Why not go directly to Rakkar and collect the full reward yourself?"
Tyche stared at him.
"...Because I don't know who Rakkar is?"
The stranger remained silent.
"Or where to find him," Tyche added, spreading his hands. "That's kind of the whole point of using a broker."
"Even if it means giving up most of the reward?"
"Well, yeah."
Tyche frowned, almost confused that the man needed an explanation.
"Think about it. Let's say I actually managed to find the girl, which I did, and then decided I wanted the whole reward for myself. First, I'd have to figure out who Rakkar is, then find out where he is, and somehow convince him to meet with me."
He paused.
"And by the time I managed all that, someone else would've already turned in the information."
The stranger remained silent.
"Then I'd get nothing."
Tyche shrugged.
"Better to get a portion of something than all of nothing."
"Hm."
"Besides, brokers already know who to contact. That's their job. They get paid for making sure the information reaches the right people before someone else gets there first."
"And you trust this broker?"
Tyche gave him a strange look.
"...No?"
The stranger tilted his bucket.
"Then why work with him?"
"Because I don't have to trust him. I just have to get paid."
Tyche leaned back slightly.
"Look, it's not exactly a perfect arrangement, but that's how things work down there. Nobody wants strangers showing up at their door demanding money, and people like me don't exactly have the connections to go knocking on the doors of whoever's offering the reward."
He hesitated before adding, "And even if I did find Rakkar, who's to say he'd actually pay me?"
The stranger rubbed the rim of his bucket.
"Fair point."
Tyche nodded.
Finally.
"What's the broker's name?"
Tyche opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
"...I don't know."
The stranger remained silent.
Tyche quickly raised his hands.
"I really don't! Nobody uses their actual names for that kind of thing. You just go where you're told, say what you know, and hope the person paying doesn't decide you're more trouble than you're worth."
"Sounds like a reliable business."
"It's not."
"Then why do it?"
Tyche stared at him.
"...Because it pays?"
The man said nothing.
Tyche glanced down at the coin beneath his collar.
"Sometimes."
"How much?"
"Hm?"
"How much were they offering for the girl?"
Tyche's expression shifted.
For the first time since waking up, something resembling genuine enthusiasm appeared on his face.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it."
"Try me."
"Enough that I wouldn't have to worry about food for a long time."
"Even after the broker took his cut?"
"Even after that."
Tyche's eyes brightened slightly as he thought about the possibilities.
He could have afforded proper meals, a decent place to sleep, and perhaps even enough left over to stop taking every miserable job that came his way.
...And corn.
Lots of corn.
"Tyche."
"Hm?"
"Focus."
"...Right."
The stranger considered him for a moment.
"That's quite a reward for someone's whereabouts."
Tyche shrugged.
"Not my business."
"It became your business when you decided to report her location."
"Well, yeah, but I wasn't going to do anything to her."
"You were going to tell someone where she was."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
Tyche opened his mouth, then stopped.
He looked down at his hands.
"...I wasn't the one who wanted her."
"No. You were simply going to tell the people who did where to find her."
Tyche frowned.
He didn't particularly like where this conversation was going.
The man wasn't shouting at him, threatening him, or even raising his voice. Somehow, that made the questions more uncomfortable.
Tyche could handle angry people.
Angry people were predictable. They yelled, threatened, and occasionally hit things.
This man just sat there.
Waiting.
And Tyche had the unpleasant suspicion that he could keep waiting for a very long time.
"...Look," Tyche finally muttered. "I saw an opportunity to make some money. That's all."
"And you didn't wonder why someone was willing to pay so much for a girl?"
Tyche shifted his gaze toward the window.
"People pay for all sorts of things."
"That wasn't what I asked."
"...No."
"No, you didn't wonder?"
Tyche hesitated before shaking his head.
"No. I didn't ask."
"Why not?"
"Because asking questions usually means getting fewer answers and more problems."
Tyche looked toward him again.
"And I already have enough problems."
The stranger remained silent.
For a moment, Tyche wondered whether he'd said something wrong.
Then the man spoke.
"I'm not asking you to feel sorry for her, Tyche."
Tyche blinked.
"...You're not?"
"No. I'm asking whether you understand what you were getting involved in."
Tyche frowned.
"...Does it matter?"
"It will if you intend to work for me."
Tyche stared at him.
...Work for him?
Before he could ask what the man meant, the stranger continued.
"One more thing."
Tyche's shoulders sagged.
Of course.
"Did you tell anyone you found her?"
"No."
"Anyone at all?"
"No."
"Did you send a message?"
"No."
"Did anyone see you looking at her?"
Tyche hesitated.
The bucket tilted.
"Tyche."
"I mean, probably?"
"Probably?"
"There were people around! It's the underground. There's always someone looking at something."
"Did anyone know why you were looking at her?"
"No."
"You're certain?"
Tyche nodded quickly.
"Yes."
The stranger watched him for several seconds before giving a small nod.
"Alright."
Tyche stared.
"...Alright?"
"Alright."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Tyche glanced toward the door before looking back at the man.
"...So what happens now?"
"Now?"
"Yeah."
The stranger stood.
Tyche immediately stiffened, but the man merely adjusted his clothing before turning toward the door.
"Now you rest."
Tyche blinked.
"...That's it?"
"For the moment."
He paused.
"Besides, I have a use for you."
Tyche's expression changed.
"...Huh?"
"I said I have a use for you."
Tyche stared at him.
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Wait a minute. I thought you said I could leave!"
"You can."
"Then what's this about having a use for me?!"
"I'll pay you."
Tyche stopped.
"...Pay?"
"Yes."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"...How much?"
"We can discuss that later."
Tyche frowned.
"Then what kind of work?"
"Nothing particularly difficult. Running around gathering information, delivering messages, things you're already familiar with."
Tyche considered that.
...That's not too bad.
"And," the stranger continued, "I'd like you to serve as a sparring partner."
Tyche froze.
His expression slowly changed as he stared at the bucket in front of him.
...Sparring?
He instinctively leaned backward, putting a little more distance between himself and the man.
"...For who?"
The question came out considerably quieter than he'd intended.
The stranger tilted his head.
"A student of mine."
Tyche blinked.
"...A student?"
"Yes."
He seemed to notice Tyche's apprehension.
"Don't worry. He's a beginner."
Tyche stared at him for another moment before his shoulders finally dropped.
"Phew..."
He let out a long breath, sinking back against the bed.
Oh, thank goodness.
For a moment, he'd genuinely thought the man wanted him to spar with him, and considering what he'd felt earlier, Tyche had absolutely no intention of finding out what that would be like.
But a beginner?
That was different.
...I can handle a beginner.
He straightened slightly, recovering some of his earlier confidence.
"Alright. I can do that."
"Good."
"And you'll pay me?"
"Of course."
"Even for the sparring?"
"Especially for the sparring."
Tyche nodded.
Easy enough.
Then another thought occurred to him.
"...Wait."
"Hm?"
"This student of yours."
"What about him?"
"How good is he with mana?"
The stranger paused.
"He can't use it."
Tyche blinked.
"...What?"
"He's manaless."
For several seconds, Tyche simply stared at the man.
Then his expression twisted into something between confusion and contempt, his eyebrows drawing together as his upper lip curled slightly.
"...A manaless?"
The word came out almost involuntarily, carrying a faint note of disgust.
The stranger said nothing.
Tyche leaned forward.
"You're telling me your student doesn't have any mana? At all?"
"Not a bit."
Tyche stared at him.
Then he slowly leaned back.
...Seriously?
He'd heard of manaless people before, of course. Everyone had.
They were the unfortunate ones who couldn't use mana, people who were generally considered useless in any situation requiring even the slightest amount of strength.
And this man wanted him to spar with one?
Tyche glanced at the bucket.
...What kind of student is he teaching?
For a moment, he wondered whether he'd misunderstood something.
Perhaps the student had some other ability, or perhaps there was something unusual about him.
But then again, the man had specifically said he was a beginner.
A manaless beginner.
Tyche's lips slowly curved into a smile.
...Oh.
Oh, this is going to be easy.
"Yeah, sure. No problem."
The stranger tilted his bucket.
"That was quick."
Tyche shrugged, his earlier apprehension almost entirely gone.
"Well, if he's manaless, then I don't see what the problem is."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
Tyche grinned.
"Easy money."
The stranger remained silent for a moment before chuckling.
"Glad to hear you're so enthusiastic."
Tyche waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't worry about it. I can handle him."
"I'm sure you can."
Something about the man's tone made Tyche glance toward him again, but the bucket revealed nothing.
He decided not to think too much about it.
It's a manaless beginner. How bad could it possibly be?
The stranger folded his arms.
"It's relatively simple work, and you won't have to worry about going hungry."
That caught Tyche's attention.
"...Really?"
"As long as you do your part."
Tyche considered the offer.
Information gathering was something he already knew how to do, and sparring with a manaless beginner didn't sound particularly dangerous.
If anything, it sounded considerably safer than the jobs he'd been taking recently.
Money, food, and easy work.
...Not bad.
Still, he couldn't help feeling slightly suspicious.
"...What's the catch?"
"Catch?"
"Yeah. There's always a catch."
The stranger seemed to consider that.
"Well, you'll have to actually do the work."
Tyche stared.
"...That's it?"
"That's generally how employment works."
...This guy.
Tyche scratched his cheek.
He wasn't entirely convinced, but the offer was certainly better than being sold to the Pits.
And if the student really was a manaless beginner, perhaps he could even make himself useful without getting hurt.
"...Can I ask something?"
"Go ahead."
"Why me?"
The stranger tilted his bucket.
"Why not?"
Tyche frowned.
"You just spent all that time asking me questions about a girl I was following, threatened to sell me to the Pits, and now you're offering me work."
"And?"
"...That's weird."
The man chuckled.
"You're familiar with the underground, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"You know how to find people?"
"...Usually."
"And you know how to gather information without attracting too much attention?"
Tyche hesitated.
"...Most of the time."
"Then you have skills I could use."
Tyche considered that.
...Huh.
He supposed that made sense.
Still, something about the explanation felt incomplete.
Why would someone who'd just caught him trying to sell out a girl suddenly decide he was worth employing?
Perhaps the man was planning to keep him nearby so he couldn't cause any more trouble, or perhaps he simply needed someone familiar with the underground.
Or perhaps there was something else he wasn't being told.
Tyche glanced at the bucket.
He considered asking another question, but the thought of accidentally talking himself out of a paying job quickly convinced him otherwise.
Besides, he'd already learned that the stranger wasn't particularly fond of unnecessary questions.
And Tyche had never been particularly interested in asking questions that might cost him money.
He nodded.
"...Alright. You've got yourself a deal."
The stranger gave a small chuckle.
"Glad to hear it."
Tyche leaned back against the bed, allowing himself to relax for the first time since waking up.
For a moment, things actually seemed to be going his way.
He'd found work, he'd be getting paid, and apparently, all he had to do was gather information and occasionally knock around some inexperienced, manaless student.
...Maybe my luck's finally turning around.
He glanced at the bucket.
The stranger said nothing.
For some reason, that silence made Tyche slightly uncomfortable.
But he quickly dismissed the feeling.
It's a beginner.
How bad could it be?
His head was still pounding, his ribs hurt, and he had no idea where he was.
But at least he had his coin.
And apparently, he wasn't being sold to the Pits.
That was something.
Then another thought occurred to him.
Tyche opened one eye.
"...Hey."
"Hm?"
"That girl."
"What about her?"
"...Is she here?"
The stranger didn't answer immediately.
Tyche felt his stomach tighten.
...Oh.
He slowly opened his other eye.
"She's here, isn't she?"
The man leaned back against the wall.
"Yes."
Tyche stared at him, then toward the door, and finally back at the man.
"...Does she know?"
"Know what?"
"About me."
"Not yet."
Tyche swallowed.
Not yet.
Those were two very unpleasant words.
He could already imagine what would happen if the girl discovered that he'd recognized her from the bounty poster. She was a Steel Rank fighter in the Underring, someone who'd survived fights that Tyche wouldn't have dared participate in, and he doubted she'd appreciate learning that he'd intended to make money by revealing her whereabouts.
Worse, he hadn't even gotten close enough to speak to her before everything went wrong.
He'd simply looked in her direction, been noticed by her companion, and run for his life.
And somehow, despite all that effort to avoid getting involved, he'd ended up in the same building as her.
...How does that even happen?
Tyche glanced toward the door again.
He couldn't help remembering the young man who'd noticed him. If that person was here too, then Tyche had potentially ended up surrounded by people who could beat him senseless without much effort.
His ribs gave another painful throb.
...Not that I need another demonstration.
He slowly looked back at the stranger.
"...And you're going to tell her?"
"Probably."
Tyche's face drained of color.
"Probably?!"
"Would you prefer I didn't?"
"Yes!"
The stranger tilted his bucket.
"Then give me a reason."
Tyche opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
He tried again.
"...Because I didn't actually sell her out?"
"You were planning to."
"But I didn't!"
"Because you got hit with a brick."
Tyche winced.
"...You really don't have to keep bringing that up."
The man remained silent.
Tyche looked away, his thoughts racing through the possibilities. He could try begging, lying, or convincing the stranger that he never intended to do anything with the information, but none of those options seemed particularly promising.
Besides, he hadn't actually reported her whereabouts to anyone.
Surely that counted for something.
"...Look," Tyche finally muttered. "I already told you everything I know. I didn't sell her out, and I don't plan on trying again."
The stranger said nothing.
"Besides, you just offered me work, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Then why would I go chasing some girl around when I could be getting paid to do something easier?"
The man rubbed the rim of his bucket.
"Hm."
Tyche leaned forward slightly.
"And you said there'd be food."
"I did."
"So..."
He spread his hands.
"...Seems like a pretty easy decision to me."
The stranger remained silent for a moment before chuckling.
"At least you're straightforward about what you want."
Tyche shrugged.
"What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, I suppose."
The man turned toward the door.
"Anyway, we'll deal with the girl when you're well enough to stand."
Tyche swallowed.
"...That doesn't sound good."
"Depends on how you look at it."
"How else am I supposed to look at it?"
The stranger turned his bucket toward him.
"You're alive, aren't you?"
Tyche stared.
"...Yeah."
"You've got your coin."
Tyche glanced down.
"...Yeah."
"And nobody's sold you to the Pits."
"...Yet."
The man gave a small chuckle.
"See? Things could be worse."
Tyche watched him move toward the door.
For a moment, he considered asking another question, something about the girl, Rakkar, or whether the stranger really intended to pay him.
But before he could decide, another question slipped out.
"...Hey."
The man stopped.
"Hm?"
"What's your name?"
"Myers."
Tyche repeated it silently.
Myers.
He'd never heard the name before.
At least, he didn't think he had.
"And the bucket?"
"What about it?"
"...Why?"
Myers remained silent.
Tyche waited.
Then he answered.
"Why not?"
Tyche stared.
...Fair enough, I guess.
He decided not to ask anything else about it.
Myers reached for the door.
"Oh, and Tyche?"
Tyche looked up.
"Yeah?"
"Don't try sneaking out."
Tyche froze.
Myers continued.
"Roland doesn't particularly appreciate strangers wandering around his warehouse."
"...Roland?"
"You'll meet him."
Tyche hesitated.
"...Is he friendly?"
Myers seemed to consider the question.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"Whether he likes you."
Tyche stared.
...Wonderful.
Myers stepped through the doorway.
"Get some rest."
The door closed behind him.
Tyche remained sitting upright for several seconds, listening as the footsteps moved away before eventually fading into silence.
Only then did he slowly lower himself onto the bed.
His head throbbed, his ribs ached, and somewhere beyond the room, the very girl he'd been planning to sell out was apparently waiting for him.
Tyche stared at the ceiling.
...What a day.
He raised his coin above his face, allowing the thin piece of metal to catch the light.
For a moment, he simply watched it before closing his fingers around it.
He'd survived.
Again.
Somehow.
And although he wasn't entirely sure what tomorrow would bring, he'd learned one very important lesson.
Never trust a man wearing a bucket.
Especially one you couldn't sense.
His thoughts returned to Myers.
The man had returned his coin, offered him work, and hadn't done anything particularly threatening beyond a few unpleasant promises.
Yet the feeling Tyche had experienced while looking at him hadn't been ordinary fear.
It had been a warning.
One stronger than anything he'd felt in a long time.
And the strangest part was that the feeling hadn't completely disappeared, even after he'd abandoned the idea of escaping.
Tyche frowned.
...What the hell is that guy?
He didn't know.
And for once, he wasn't particularly interested in finding out.
He closed his eyes.
...And maybe stay away from bricks.
With that final thought, he pulled the blanket over himself and tried to sleep.
Unfortunately, every time he closed his eyes, he imagined the girl standing outside his door, waiting for him.
He turned onto his side, only for pain to immediately shoot through his ribs.
"Ghh-!"
He rolled back, stared at the ceiling, and sighed.
...I'm so screwed.