Dissapointment

Sol waved his hand, and the distorted reality of his room pulsed before snapping back to normal. The walls shrank to their proper dimensions, the ceiling returned to its dull, unremarkable state, and his furniture reappeared as they were before. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders before heading toward the bathroom.

The hot water cascaded down his back, soothing the tension in his muscles as he mulled over his progress. "System, give me an update on my illusion affinity."

"Your affinity remains at 15%, but control efficiency has improved. Energy consumption is stabilizing with experience. Larger, more layered illusions increase strain proportionally. Continued use will further refine endurance and manipulation."

Sol smirked to himself. Even if he wasn't progressing in percentage, he could feel the difference in how his illusions functioned. He was adapting.

After his shower, he dressed and tied his hair up, feeling refreshed. With a stretch, he made his way down to the bar. The place was quieter than usual, only a few patrons lingering at scattered tables. He approached the old man behind the counter, sliding onto a stool.

"I'm starving. Get me something good." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar. "And while you're at it, tell me about this job."

The old man just sighed at Sol's shamelessness, making himself at home, while mumbling, "You still haven't paid your tab," under his breath. But Sol just pretended not to hear and kept asking about the job.

As the server brought out some food, the old man grumbled before finally speaking. "Someone wants to meet you."

Sol nonchalantly picked up his utensils. "A lot of people want to meet me."

The old man could feel a headache incoming. "One of my partners would like a meeting with you—for a job. Credits will surely satisfy you."

Before Sol could respond, a hearty laugh erupted from one of the tables. He turned to see a human man who looked like a grizzly bear getting up and moving toward him. The man pulled up a chair next to him, exuding an air of familiarity and confidence.

"Name's Black Bear," the man said, grinning. "I'm one of the managers at the gambling den, and I've heard a lot of interesting things about you. Even the old man here has good things to say."

Sol remained silent, though inwardly, he felt a tinge of disappointment. He had expected something different from the old man, but once again, he was proven wrong. His fingers tapped idly against the counter as he fought off the bitter taste of misplaced expectations. Cutting off Black Bear, he asked bluntly, "What do you want?"

Black Bear's grin faltered for a second, but he chose to ignore the disrespect. With a sharp glance around the bar, he signaled something unspoken. The few remaining patrons immediately stood up and left, leaving only Sol, the old man, and a raccoon girl peeking from the back.

Black Bear leaned in, his tone shifting into something lower, more serious. "We need you to steal something."

Sol didn't even let him finish. He exhaled sharply, barely hiding his irritation, and stood up. "That should cover my tab and room," he said, placing a handful of credits onto the counter. "I won't be coming in for work anymore."

The sudden declaration caught them off guard. The old man blinked, processing the words, while Black Bear's face twisted into something darker, his amusement slipping away.

"What?" Black Bear asked, his voice tight with disbelief.

"You heard me." Sol adjusted his coat, his gaze cool and unreadable. "Not interested."

Black Bear's chair screeched against the floor as he shot to his feet, his heavy frame radiating hostility. "You think you can just walk away from me?" His chair toppled backward with a clatter. "You don't get to just say no."

He lunged at Sol, hand outstretched, but Sol had already moved. His irritation flared as he sidestepped effortlessly, pivoting around the larger man's bulk with practiced ease.

With a casual motion, Sol placed a single finger on Black Bear's forehead. The reaction was immediate—Black Bear recoiled, stumbling back as an overwhelming fear took hold of him. His breath hitched, his pupils dilating as unseen horrors clawed at his mind. He let out a strangled sound, his hands trembling.

Then, with a roar, he tore himself free of the illusion, bloodshot eyes snapping to Sol. "I'll kill you!" he bellowed, his fury uncontrollable.

Sol barely reacted. "You're welcome to try."

Before Black Bear could act, thick vines erupted from the ground, coiling around his limbs and neck, squeezing tightly. His struggles were useless—the more he fought, the more the vines constricted. His breath hitched as realization dawned. He was completely immobilized.

Sol turned to the old man, disappointment clear in his expression. "I expected better from you," he muttered, voice tinged with something almost like regret.

Without another word, he retrieved a small remote, pressed a button, and dematerialized out of the bar in an instant.

It all happened so fast that the old man and the raccoon girl could barely react. The latter, peeking from the back, let out a slow whistle. "Well," she mused. "That escalated fast."

Black Bear struggled, his muscles bulging as he tried to break free. The more he resisted, the tighter the vines constricted, panic setting in as his air supply dwindled. Just as his vision started to blur, a beam of light shot from the old man's horns, striking the vines and freezing them solid. With a desperate grunt, Black Bear shattered the ice, stumbling free. He roared in anger, but the brief nightmare and near-suffocation had rattled him.

The old man no longer wore a smile as he considered Sol's last words before vanishing. A deep sigh escaped him, regret pooling in his chest. Greed had just cost him an interesting friend. He turned his gaze to Black Bear, but now there was no warmth in his eyes. Black Bear stiffened under the stare, realizing he might have just made a grave mistake.

He knew his place. Despite his bravado, he was just a middleman, a cog in the machine. The real power lay with the big boss at the gambling den, and he was replaceable.

Meanwhile, Sol dematerialized into a quiet alley, exhaling in disappointment. "Losing my job on the second day—has to be a new record, right, Peach?" he muttered to himself. He had enjoyed talking to the old man, thought there was something different about him, but none of that mattered now. He wasn't worried about retaliation. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.

With a wave of his hand, the air shimmered. His long black hair shortened, turning a sleek silver, and his jade-green eyes dulled with age. His face shifted subtly, lines forming to shape the illusion of a middle-aged man. Now, he was just another passerby in the city, unnoticed and unremarkable.