When I opened the door and looked into the corridor, I stayed still for a while.
Silence.
No footsteps, no whisper, no shadow…Only the distant murmur of the inn's lower floor.
I read the note in my hand again:
Don't ask too loudly.Some marks will mark you back.
The three slanted lines under it seemed to grow larger in my eyes.
"Great," I muttered. "Now it's not only my dreams that are creepy. My doorway is, too."
I closed the door and turned back into the room.I slid the note down toward the watch pressed to my chest and tucked it under my shirt, over my heart.
⟪SYSTEM⟫[NEW ENTRY]
– Event: Anonymous note.– Message: Half warning, half threat.
Suggestion:– Don't try to find the sender immediately.– For now, it's safer if they stay "unknown ally / unknown threat."
"So," I said, "filed under 'mysterious follower,' huh."
I lay back down on the bed.
When I closed my eyes, I saw the stones of the underground ruins, the metal cube hanging in the air, and that hand with the completed triangle burning on its wrist—for just a moment longer.
Then the images blurred.This time, there was no dream; only a heavy, black sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, my body felt like it had been beaten.
My shoulder throbbed and my legs ached, but at least breathing didn't feel like someone was stabbing my chest anymore.
"Status."
⟪SYSTEM⟫[STATUS – UPDATE]
NAME: EthanLEVEL: 1
PATH:– Root: Survivor– Main Branch: Veil – Observer– Sub Branch: Flesh – Endurance
Base Attributes:– Strength: Low+– Endurance: Mid-– Agility: Mid-– Mental Focus: Mid– Perception: Mid++
Special Attribute:– Luck: 4 / 10
Last 12 Hours:– Post-dream stress → Mental Resilience: very small increase.– Sleep quality: Low, but sufficient.
Note:– "Pain Tolerance I" active.– Shoulder: Recovery in progress.
At the very bottom, a new line had appeared:
– Mood: Unstable curiosity / suppressed fear.
"At least you're honest," I said.
A light knock sounded at the door.
Knock, knock.
"Ethan?" Bran's voice. "You alive?"
"For now!" I shouted. "You can come in."
The door opened and Bran stuck his head in.
My eyes scanned him; he was wearing the lighter version of his armor, sword at his belt, guard cloak on his shoulder.
"You look decent," he said. "At least not dead. We're going to be a bit busy today."
"I don't like hearing the word 'busy' from you," I said. "Does that mean patrol, fighting, or… the mysterious third option?"
"Internal patrol," he said. "Official. Me, Torren, and you. We'll circle the city. You'll get used to the streets—and actually see people for once."
"Every time I go around people, somebody tries to kill me," I said. "But fine. When?"
"Half an hour at the headquarters," he said. "Wash your face, eat something. Get bread and dried meat from Garen for the patrol.Oh, and…"His eyes flicked to my chest for a fraction of a second, then back to my face."If you had any… weird dreams last night, keep them to yourself for now. People are on edge lately."
"No dreams," I lied. "Just the classic 'I might die soon' thoughts."
"Get used to it," Bran said. "In this city, they serve that instead of breakfast."
He stepped back from the door.
I washed my face, then picked up the watch and stared at it for a moment.The hands were still almost in the same place; only the second hand was stuck where it had moved to after last night's dream.
I slid it back under my shirt, over my heart.
I glanced at my reflection in the warped piece of wood pretending to be a mirror.The shadows under my eyes were still there, but at least I didn't look like "last hours before death" anymore.
When I went downstairs, the inn wasn't too crowded; most of last night's drinkers had already collapsed, and the day-shift regulars were just starting to come in.
Garen was at the counter, cutting bread.
"Patrol breakfast," I said. "Bran mentioned you."
"The usual," Garen replied. "Hard bread, some cheese, some dried meat.Try not to pick a fight with Lady Fate today, will you?"
"Lady who?" I asked.
"Fate," he said. "Everyone who flirts with that lady ends up getting beaten half to death."
I didn't like that metaphor.
I grabbed the food and headed toward the headquarters.
I spotted Torren in front of the building right away.
Unlike last night, he was in full guard armor now.His seriousness had at least doubled.
Bran stood on the steps, arms crossed, waiting for us.
"You're here," he said. "Good. Today's route is simple—but not boring."
Torren spoke briefly, to the point:
"Morning patrol.– First the market streets,– Then the Old Well district,– Finally the narrow alleys near the inner walls.If a fight breaks out, we handle it. You stay back.If you run, I won't chase you."
"I feel a lot of trust right now," I said.
"That's not trust," Torren replied. "It's realistic task distribution."
⟪SYSTEM⟫[SIDE QUEST CREATED]
[SIDE QUEST – YELLOW]Quest: First Internal Patrol
Description:– Time to see Veldan from the inside.– Streets hold more secrets than walls.
Objectives:– Complete the patrol route with Bran and Torren.– Carefully observe at least one incident.– Don't talk unnecessarily.
Estimated Rewards:– Basic EXP.– Small Intuition increase in the Veil Branch.
Failure:– You remain categorized as "dead weight" in Bran and Torren's eyes.
"I especially like the last line," I thought.
The market streets were alive in the morning sun.
Stalls had opened one after another: fabrics, fruit, spices, old armor, second-hand daggers…Everything was piled together.
Bran walked in front, Torren to the side, and I stayed a bit behind them.
"Look," Bran said, pointing at a corner, "that spot is a favorite for pickpockets. It's shaded and crowded.If you catch one in the act, you get bonus points."
"Bonus points?" I said. "Do they pay a reward or something?"
"No," Bran said. "You just get to hear Torren say 'good job' in the evening. That counts as a rare reward in this town."
Torren said nothing; but I saw a muscle in his face twitch.
We walked through the market.There were minor arguments and tense negotiations, but nothing serious happened.
Still, one thing caught my eye.
On some walls, doorframes, stall legs…There were little chalk marks.
Three lines.Some slanted upward, some sideways.Most of them stopped before forming a full triangle.
⟪SYSTEM⟫[INCREASED SYMBOL SENSITIVITY]
– Incomplete triangle-like markings:• Scattered throughout the market area.
Note:– Some may be children's doodles.– Some may not.
My throat went dry.
"They're… almost everywhere," I thought. "And everyone pretends not to see them."
When Bran slowed down near a stall of toasted bread, I moved closer.
"These wall marks," I said, trying to keep my tone casual, "have they always been around? Kids drawing them?"
Bran glanced sideways.
"Probably," he said. "Idle hands plus chalk equals trouble.But don't look too curious today.Even Torren doesn't want to know everything. Got it?"
"If you ever say 'everything is totally fine, no issues at all,' I'll be shocked," I said.
After the market, we went deeper into the city, to the Old Well district.
This was the poorer part of Veldan.Houses were older, streets narrower, children muddier.
In the middle of the district stood an old stone well, sealed shut.A thick iron lid had been placed over it and a rotten fence around that, as if to say "keep away."
"Did it used to have water?" I asked.
"It did," Torren said. "Then the water got murky.After that… some people claimed they heard voices from inside the well at night.The city council decided to seal it. We were happy to oblige."
"There are scratches on the lid," I said.
I stepped a bit closer.
On the rusty edge of the iron, I saw three lines scratched in with something like a nail.
This time, the lines were closer together.Almost a full triangle.
"Ethan."
Torren's voice had sharpened.
"Don't get too close," he said. "Holes in this city are usually for falling into, not climbing down.And… we don't have time to play with whatever kids scratched on there."
"Kids, huh…" I thought. "Sure."
⟪SYSTEM⟫[MICRO WARNING]
– You're lingering long enough to attract attention.– In places like this, "too much curiosity" stands out more than normal.
Bran tapped my arm lightly.
"Come on," he said. "One last sector. Then you can rest a bit."
The last area was the narrow alleys near the inner walls.
That was… Veldan's shadow.
If the market had color, this place had gray and brown.Laundry stretched from wall to wall, broken windows, stairs on the verge of collapsing…
And in between, wide-shouldered types just… watching.
Bran's hand rested on his sword hilt. Torren's eyes never stopped moving.
"Here," Bran said quietly, "is where the small criminals, medium criminals, and the 'I wish I'd never met them' types live.If we're lucky, we won't deal with any of them today."
"And of course my Luck is high," I muttered.
⟪SYSTEM⟫[LUCK REMINDER]
– Current Luck: 4 / 10– Comment:• Not great, not terrible.• Usually enough to cause trouble.
"Shut up," I whispered at the panel, as if it were a person.
Right then, a shout came from the shop on our right.
"I said that's enough! I can't give you more!"
A sharp slap followed.Something fell from a counter and broke.
Bran and I exchanged a quick look, then all three of us moved toward the noise.
When we reached the small grocery shop, the scene inside was clear.
A man in his fifties, balding and thin, was leaning on the counter, hand to his cheek.In front of him stood a man with black hair and a dirty cloak, a knife at his belt and an unsettling amount of confidence on his face.
The man leaned against the counter like he owned the place.
When Bran stepped inside, the shopkeeper's eyes flickered with a sliver of hope.
The dirty-cloaked man didn't flinch; he only spared us a sideways glance.
"Good day, guards," he said. "Just a simple disagreement. Practically family business. No reason for you to be involved."
"Then say the shopkeeper's last name," Bran replied. "If you're family, we'll decide accordingly."
The man's mouth twisted.
"Last names," he said, "are a tax collector's problem."
Torren stood at the door, blocking the way out.
"Name," he said. "And your business here. If you lie, I'll hear it in your voice."
The man's fingers stroked the knife hilt.His eyes never left his own hand.
And that was when my gaze slid down to his wrist.
The cuff of his sleeve was slightly pulled back, revealing a mark on his skin.
Three lines.Not stacked, not side by side…More like the sides of a triangle, stopping just short of meeting.
⟪SYSTEM⟫[CLOSE CONTACT WITH SYMBOL]
– Incomplete Triangle Mark: On a living person.– Location: Right wrist.
Note:– "Accidentally drawn" is a lot less likely this time.
I felt like I'd just been punched in the gut.
"Again…" I thought. "That shape again."
I forced my breathing to slow, trying not to show it.
Bran kept staring at the man.
"Threats, intimidation, extortion?" Bran said. "Which one should we write down? Pick one, so the paperwork stays neat."
"I'm only here," the man said, "to give a friendly debt reminder.Some people forget the kindness shown to them a little too quickly."
Fear flashed in the shopkeeper's eyes.
"I paid the debt!" he shouted. "With extra! I told him I didn't want him coming back, he said fine. Then he came again and said I had 'another debt'… He's lying!"
The man shrugged.
"Words," he said, "can be slippery. Agreements too."
His hand inched closer to the knife.
Bran's voice instantly hardened.
"Ethan," he said. "Step back.Torren, left."
As soon as I heard it, I took half a step back.But this time, I had no intention of staying completely out of it.
The man's fingers closed around the knife hilt, ready to draw, just as Bran lunged.
Torren moved at the same time, coming in from the side, forcing the man's attention to split.
Those few seconds… fell to me.
I stared at his wrist.The three lines stood swollen on his skin.
The knife was almost out of its sheath.
If Bran swung and the man countered…this little shop would turn into a slaughterhouse.
"No," I thought. "For once, I'm going to be useful."
I took two quick steps toward the counter and grabbed an empty fruit crate.Just as the man pulled the knife free, I swung the crate with all I had at his wrist and hand.
The crate and what little fruit was left went flying; wood smacked into his wrist hard, and his fingers reflexively opened.The knife tumbled to the floor.
Bran didn't waste the opening.
He crashed into the man's chest with his shoulder, pinning him to the wall. Torren slipped behind him and twisted his arm just enough to hurt, not enough to break.
The man grunted through clenched teeth.
"Friendly debt, was it?" Bran said. "You can explain that to the iron bars."
The shopkeeper trembled behind the counter.I stood there holding the crate like an idiot.
⟪SYSTEM⟫[END OF CONFLICT – SHORT]
– Physical intervention: Successful.– Damage: None (non-lethal).
Gains:– General EXP: Small increase.– Veil Branch: "Observed + intervened at the right time" entry.
New Micro Tag:– "Reluctant Courage" created.
"Hey," I thought. "That's still something."
As Torren was pulling the man's arms back, his gaze paused for a moment on the wrist.
He looked at the three lines, then quickly looked away.As if he hadn't seen them.
But I had.
And I had seen him see them.
I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything.
It didn't take long to drag the man back to the headquarters.
On the way, he tried to talk several times.
"If you do this," he said, "my friends won't be happy.Who do you think really controls some of these corners, huh? Everyone serves someone."
"My boss is Mira," Bran answered. "And she's probably bored out of her mind right now. You've just given her something new to vent on."
Torren still didn't say a word.His shoulders were a little tighter, though.
Inside the headquarters, the usual morning chaos was in full swing.
Another guard saw the man we'd brought in and let out a low whistle.
"You again?" he said. "Didn't think you were still around."
Bran turned to the clerk.
"Intimidation, extortion, armed threat," he said. "The shopkeeper will give details.And add a note about the mark on his wrist. If he claims it's a coincidence, I'll laugh."
The man opened his mouth, but Torren pressed down on his shoulder a bit harder and the words died.
Just then, a familiar voice came from deeper inside:
"Make sure you fill out the paperwork properly. The last two files didn't even have dates on them."
Mira.
Her uniform was as crisp as ever.Her hair was tied tight, her face set into sharp lines.
She looked at Bran first, then Torren.
Then her eyes landed on me.
She paused for a heartbeat.Her gaze narrowed slightly.
Then she turned to the man we'd brought in.She grabbed his wrist and examined the lines.
A brief silence…
"Again," she said quietly. "The same mark."
Bran tilted his head.
"Mira?" he said. "You've seen this before?"
Mira released the wrist.
"You," she said, turning to me. "Ethan, right?"
I cleared my throat.
"Yes," I said. "Still am, as far as I know."
Her gaze weighed heavily on me.
"This is your first internal patrol," she said. "It might not be the last.Come with me.We need to talk about… coincidences."
⟪SYSTEM⟫[NEW SITUATION]
– Event: Mira requests a "private conversation."– Risk: Medium / High.– Opportunity: Information.
Note:– Some doors open on their own.– Whether you walk through or not is not always up to you.
I exchanged a quick look with Bran.
His eyes said "Be careful."But they also said, "If you don't go, it'll be worse."
I took a deep breath.
"All right," I said. "I guess when coincidences pile up, someone has to talk about them."
Mira walked ahead.I followed her down an inner corridor of the headquarters to a closed door.
The little sign on it said only:
INTERROGATION.
I swore under my breath.
Today,while I was busy looking for marks in the streets,I had somehow managed to walk straight into exactly the wrong place.