Opportunity

Vin nodded along with the man. Truth be told, he was getting tired of this never-ending conversation. Couldn’t Frank just get to the point already and skip all the side notes?

But no—Frank seemed hell-bent on telling him every little thing about his master, or rather, Lord Cian.

“Now,” Frank continued, “what was written on the poster is the real news. The big one I know you’ve been waiting for.”

Vin perked up slightly, hopeful it would finally be worth all the rambling.

“You see, there’s this exam—one that everyone takes. Rich or poor. Noble or lowborn. No discrimination. That’s the beauty of it. Especially for us lesser creatures. It gives people a chance to climb up and be valued. Become one of the highs.”

As Frank talked, he clutched his basket tighter when a long, sneaky hand reached out from the crowd to grab one of his roasted yams.

The hand belonged to a bald man with a potbelly and yellowing teeth. He quickly withdrew it when caught, flashing a greasy smile before refocusing on the poster—though he kept watching them from the corner of his eye.

Vin shook his head. Maybe I’ll never understand how these people live.

“So,” Frank said proudly, “Lord Cian is one of those taking the exam later this month. Imagine that!”

He raised his brows theatrically and let out a laugh.

Vin noticed, for the first time, that Frank was missing two front teeth. Still, he smiled warmly. Just then, Vin’s stomach rumbled again.

Loudly.

Frank must have heard it too because he grinned and pointed to the yams in his basket.

Vin nodded eagerly, his head bobbing like a puppet. His mouth watered instantly. He gulped. Just imagining the taste was making his eyes blur a little.

They couldn’t blame him. Not really. They’d understand if they were in his shoes.

He reached for the yam and thanked the man profusely.

“The first bit of news is shocking, right?” Frank asked, pausing expectantly.

Vin nodded again. That was enough encouragement.

“Now here’s the part that’s even crazier. No one—and I mean no one—has ever heard of Lord Cian having servants. The man lives with gyoles and other mysterious creatures. But now? Now he’s requesting servants. That’s why the city’s buzzing.”

He gestured broadly to the chaos around them. “And the salary? Tempting as hell. But people are wary. 'Cause who can tolerate that man’s insults for long? Still... looks like half the market’s already planning to try.”

Vin was beginning to see where Frank was coming from. Lord Cian sounded like a mystery wrapped in arrogance, dipped in darkness. All bark and... probably a hell of a bite too.

Vin bowed slightly and turned to leave. “Thanks for the yam. And the info.”

But before he could take a step, Frank grabbed his arm.

Vin turned back, puzzled, only to find Frank staring at him with a crooked smile.

What just happened? When did friendly Frank turn into this... other Frank?

“Err... I need to go,” Vin said, smiling awkwardly, hoping Frank would let go.

But he didn’t. That unsettling smile stayed plastered on his face, and his grip on Vin’s collar tightened.

Frank stretched out his hand. Palm open.

Vin blinked. “What...?”

“My money?” Frank said smoothly. “You ate the yam, didn’t you? Bet it was delicious. Homemade. And now... I need payment.”

That smile—cold and calculating—never reached his eyes. He wasn’t playing anymore.

Vin’s brain scrambled.

He had no money. No place to sleep. He wasn’t even full—just teased by that bite of roasted yam.

“Uhmm, I... err... you know, I just—uh—I just came in from travel. I don’t have—uh... I mean, not right now...”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. The phrase looped in his mind as Frank’s face turned into stone.

The chatty man was gone. Replaced by someone much harder.

“But you ate the yam, no? So you have to pay.”

Vin groaned inwardly. They were speaking different languages now. How was he going to get out of this?

The crowd from earlier had dispersed. New people flowed through the market, but only Vin and Frank remained from the original group.

Each of them was digging in—one demanding payment, the other desperately confused.

Eventually, a few customers approached Frank. He released Vin’s collar but kept a sharp eye on him, making it clear escape wasn’t an option.

Vin sighed and sat on the nearest wooden bench, folding his arms over his legs. He waited, hoping he could plead his way out of this mess—again.

Was this his fate? Jumping from one problem to the next?

The sun was starting to wane. Shadows stretched longer. The sky dimmed steadily.

Frank finally finished his sales and came over, taking a seat next to Vin. He looked—relieved? Maybe he'd made a decent profit.

“I’ll try to understand your situation,” he said. “But just know—not everyone would’ve let you off. Truth is, I’m not a nice man, nor a wicked one. Just a man of principle.”

He paused, eyeing Vin.

“Thinking of your village story, I’ve decided to let you go.”

He stood, adjusting his now lighter basket, gave Vin a brief nod, and walked off to the right.

What a coincidence.

That was Vin’s path too.

So he followed. Or rather—he just happened to be going the same way.

Call it fate?

Frank, ever cautious, looked over his shoulder three separate times. Vin admired that. A man who cared about his security. But for once, he was grateful for his illusion charm—it let him blend into the crowd easily.

Then suddenly—

Frank vanished.

Vin froze. Where had he gone?

He searched the crowd, scanning for a man holding a basket tightly to his chest. Where—

BAM.

He bumped into someone. Hard.

“Sorry, sorry—” he began to mutter, head down.

Then he looked up—and froze.

It was Frank.

The man was standing right in front of him, arms folded, expression blank.

“I knew someone was follo

wing me,” Frank said. “So it was you, huh?”

He raised a brow.

Vin’s stomach twisted.

What the hell am I supposed to say now?