Waza walked the streets of Glora with the quiet rhythm he had perfected. Every flicker of movement, every whispered conversation, was a note in the city's symphony. The Vein thrummed faintly beneath his skin, reminding him he was no longer invisible, even if he still wished he were.
Selene appeared at the corner of a quiet street, leaning against a polished motorbike. Her eyes found him immediately, that same smirk teasing the edge of danger. "Thought you'd disappear into the shadows," she said.
"I prefer observation," Waza replied, voice flat, but internally, his pulse shifted.
She chuckled, stepping closer, letting the glow of the streetlamp brush over her silver-tipped hair. "Observation's lonely work. And lonely men… attract attention."
He kept his focus, but he noticed her interest not just in him, but in what he could see, what he could do. He understood it. Survival in Glora was not just about strength or the Vein it was about influence, connection, leverage. And women… some used it subtly, some boldly. Selene leaned somewhere in between.
A shadow moved behind Waza, and Liora appeared again, silent as the wind. Her presence reminded him that being noticed wasn't always safe. "Careful," she said softly. "Interest in you is not always genuine. Some are drawn to your hum, some to what they think you can give them."
Waza nodded, recording the moment in his mind more than in the notebook. Emotional or physical attention could be a tool, and he had learned early that tools were meant to be handled carefully.
They walked together in silence through the streets Selene knew well. Occasionally, her fingers brushed his, a fleeting contact that made him aware of her body and intent. Waza didn't respond. Observation first. Patience. That was his survival strategy.
A group of people passed, their laughter echoing against the buildings. One woman paused to look at him a glance heavy with curiosity, maybe desire. He noted her posture, her style, her timing. Another thread in the web of Glora.
Selene leaned closer, whispering, "You have more attention than you realize. Every alley, every corner, someone's noticing. Even me."
"And the Vein?" he asked softly. "Does it call them?"
Selene tilted her head, amused. "Maybe. Or maybe they sense something in you you don't yet understand. That quiet strength… it draws them. Keep watching."
By the time they parted, Waza's notebook was untouched, but his mind was full. Names, faces, interests, subtle manipulations patterns emerging like hidden veins beneath the city itself.
Alone again, Waza let the Vein hum softly, a reminder that Glora's currents were alive, dangerous, and intoxicating. Observation was no longer enough. Slowly, imperceptibly, the city and the people in it were beginning to notice him.