At the black market’s door, Lingchen Yao scanned the alley like a cat in cold rain, praying those two brutes wouldn’t appear. The thought of them dragged rusted chains across his mind. Goosebumps crawled over his skin like ant swarms. No doubt, they’d shattered his childhood psyche.

He didn’t bring Qianchun. She had no way to protect herself. She wanted missions, but sorting files at home felt like shelter in soft dusk.

Previously, he’d traded with an Order Keeper girl in the black market. Tonight, he came to collect the goods.

Second time’s smoother. He tapped the hidden lift button in the corner, a quiet click like falling dew. No brutes inside, so he stepped in, shoulders loosening. Just as he thought he’d dodged them, a sweetness drifted up behind him—bone-gnawing soft, literally.

That overdosed perfume, laced with a faint Abyssal Aura, coiled around his nose like ghost smoke. A strange softness pressed through gauzy, translucent fabric, sticking to his back like wet silk.

I’m screwed.

"Oh~ it’s the little brother from last time~ here to see big sis today? I remember your scent so well—so green, so raw."

Lingchen froze like winter stone. Rage punched up his throat, begging for his fist to meet her face. But this was the black market. And the “woman” behind him could crush him.

"No. Absolutely not."

She patted his stiff back. Disdain flickered in her eyes, then a fawning glaze slid over them.

"Just say you don’t want sis. Sis won’t lay hands on you~ But sis is heartbroken. You promised to keep me company. So rude! I’ll go play with other big brothers… little bro."

He slipped away the moment she turned, flitting to the transaction zone like a fish breaking current.

He could tolerate the Eye Orb. It spoke in steady mechanics, and he was used to it. No matter how snide, he rarely snapped now—barring special cases.

But that “woman” was different. He still couldn’t stomach the whiplash from brute to sultry vixen. He wanted to know how that torn-grin guy even stomached it. Lingchen couldn’t.

"I never want to come here again, unless the boss fires those two."

He circled once. The Order Keeper hadn’t arrived. He crouched at the meeting spot, trying to slow his fear-thudding heart, like pressing a drum under water.

"They’ve been modified," the Eye Orb said, voice flat as iron. "They don’t fit human anymore. Half-human minds in Abyss creatures, or semi-bioweapons."

"Everyone here knows the door brutes and the inner babe are the same thing."

The Eye Orb glanced toward a woman trailing the “woman” into a room, gaze as cool as glass.

"They treat them as tools. Nothing worth caring about. Come a few times, you might get used to it."

"No. I don’t want to."

While man and orb chatted, a figure darted from a corner like a shadow bird. A not-big, not-small bundle thumped his head. Thud.

"Sorry~ hit you by accident~ That’s the payment! You’re the one trading with my master, right? She can’t come back. I’ll deliver."

She walked up smiling, moonlight playing on a blank mask. Lingchen couldn’t read her face, but he saw mischief and a thin line of disgust in her eyes.

He filled in her unspoken lines, sour and sharp. I hate you, but since you gave Master crucial intel, I’ll reluctantly hand this over. Be grateful for my mercy. If not for the no-fighting rule… Filthy place. People here as filthy as it.

"A lousy day," Lingchen judged, like spitting out bitter tea.

"Among Magic Maidens, some loathe black-market rats," the Eye Orb said. "They’re hostile to anyone who harms order. Maybe it’s temperament. Maybe it’s scars later on."

He watched the girl walk off and clicked his tongue.

He opened the bag. Four Magic Stones. A Basic Magic Chant Book. A wooden carving. After checking, he slipped everything into the Eye Orb’s space, like seeds tucked into dark soil.

"Kid, there’s a tracker in there," the Eye Orb droned.

Lingchen’s nerves twanged tight like bowstrings. One small tracker dropped into his palm, cold as tin.

"A tracker?"

"She didn’t want to give you these," the Eye Orb said. "Careful when you leave. She’ll likely try to kill you."

"She can’t touch the heavy hitters inside, but she can touch you."

The Eye Orb flicked a consoling emoji. Lingchen ignored it, eyes like shuttered windows.

"Despicable," he hissed. "I don’t even know who’s the villain. How do Magic Maidens let someone like that in?"

He had no way to file a complaint with any Magic Maiden bureau. Odds said he’d get grabbed. Even if it worked, the bureau backed their own.

"Why use a tracker? Magic Maidens have standard tracking spells," he asked, mind ticking like beads.

"Simple," Eye Orb said. "Tracking magic leaves a mark. It carries obvious energy ripple."

"Even First Symphony might break it. It’s only good on dumb Abyss beasts."

"Of course, stronger casters hide marks better."

"This tracker is Order Keeper standard," it added. "Even Cantata Two struggles to notice."

"Tracking magic is on the hard list for general spells. Meanwhile, trackers mass-produce easy. They last longer than marks. So few people use tracking spells now."

The Eye Orb flipped through the chant book with a paper whisper and tapped a page.

"See? Four-star difficulty. Newbies only need up to three stars. Who’s that diligent?"

"How strong is she?" Lingchen asked.

"Lightning hits hard," Eye Orb said. "She’s First Symphony. She can hurt you."

"Your stamina matches hers. Call it six-four in your favor. If you use Black Flame, it’s a stomp."

Lingchen scanned the room, then watched the door like a hunter waits at reeds.

"Wait… I’ve got a way. I don’t need to fight."

"If you show no mercy, I won’t either."

He usually let things go, so long as no one crossed his bottom line or cut his pay. Peace was fine. He’d even take a small loss and move on, like letting a wave wash past.

But that girl wanted his goods—and his life. By his rule, if people don’t mess with me, I don’t mess with them. She’d stepped over it. She needed a lesson.

With his current strength, he couldn’t beat her head-on. He’d use a hand of tricks.

He cradled the bundle and wandered the market like a lost kid. At the door, he “accidentally” bumped a black-cloaked man about to leave. In that beat, the tracker kissed the man’s back like a leaf in wind.

"Sorry, sorry!"

Lingchen slid the worst Magic Stone shard into the man’s hand and bowed, quick and deep.

"My eyes weren’t open… I’m sorry, I’m sorry!"

"Kid! At least you know your place!" the man barked, playing anger, footsteps light as a sparrow.

"If I wasn’t avoiding Blood today, your head would be rolling!"

They were poor. A fool handing out free stones was a blessing. He’d take three bumps for that. Cash for a nudge—good luck indeed.

Lingchen smirked, fox-cunning. His goods weren’t so easy to grab.

He stepped half a stride past the door. Abyssal Aura wrapped him like cold fog. Black mist gnawed his dark jeans and black hoodie.

Mana flared into white motes around the girl’s body like fireflies. The haze broke. Out of the fog walked a girl in a black-red dress, eyes dark gold like dusk wine.

"There’s a show worth watching," she trilled. Her sweet voice rippled through the empty alley like bells.

She hopped onto a low rooftop with a cat’s grace, held her breath, and locked on the black-cloaked man who’d pocketed her Magic Stone.

The man turned into another alley. He reached to shed his cloak. A whisper slid in behind him like a knife.

"Trash. Die. You think changing clothes hides you?"

An amber arc gathered in the girl’s hand. The dim alley flashed yellow. For an instant, her black hair burned gold.

Lightning grazed the man’s cheek. The lingering tailfire lit his face. Sallow, wrinkled skin—no boy at all.

From the roof, the girl giggled, a wind-chime in the night. He’d noticed too late. She had already struck. And he wasn’t the type to forgive—nor was she the type to apologize.

"Mistook me?" he rasped, teasing woven into gravel. He wiped the blood and licked it, a wolfish habit. Dead eyes swelled with hunger.

"Want to apologize? Maybe if you hadn’t moved first," he said. "This is the Twelfth District. Magic Maidens’ turf. Bad place to spill Blood."

"You push me, then expect me to swallow it? I can’t," he snarled. "If word spreads, I can’t live on the street."

He drew twin ring-hilt blades from his thighs, fur-wrapped grips rough as bark. The long edges shone cold under the moon.

"Perfect," the girl said. "I wasn’t planning to spare your kind. Go to Hell."

A crackle sparked at her eye. She whispered her chant, breath steady as incense.

"Thunder of darkness and chaos, grant me destruction."

Of course, he wouldn’t give her time to sing. Needing chant for a heavy element strike is every First Symphony’s flaw.

She snapped a pistol from her waist. Fire-snakes spat from the barrel.

Lightning climbed his ring-hilt blade, then raced into his body. His forward rush lost a beat, like a drum faltering.

She fired once and drove a rising knee into his chest.

He gutted the pain and clamped a backhand on her throat.

"Let me teach you," he growled. "Even as a Magic Maiden, don’t get that arrogant."

…