The back alleys of the commercial avenue were a maze of crates, discarded barrels, and the occasional flicker of gas lamps casting long, wavering shadows. Alph moved with the ease of a rogue, his steps silent, his body brushing past stacked sacks of grain without a sound. The air carried the scent of damp stone, stale ale, and the faint metallic tang of the city’s ever-present forge smoke. Behind him, Nylessa’s footfalls were lighter than expected, her presence a whisper in the dark.

  A rat scuttled across their path, its claws tapping against the cobblestones before vanishing into a crack in the wall. Alph didn’t slow. He knew these streets now, the twists and turns, the places where the city’s underbelly pulsed just beneath the surface. The seventh bell had rung, its deep toll echoing through the tiers, signaling the city’s shift from commerce to carousing. The clatter of dishes from taverns, the distant hum of drunken laughter, the occasional shout of a merchant locking up for the night—all of it faded into the background as he navigated the narrow passages.

  Nylessa’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and abrupt. It sliced through the damp air, a demand that left no room for negotiation.

  "The dagger. Give it back."

  Alph didn’t turn. His shoulders tightened, a reflexive clench of muscle. Her tone scraped against his patience, a grating insistence that threatened to unravel the careful control he was holding onto. "No."

  "You can’t just keep it." Her words were clipped, edged with a frustration that felt personal. It wasn’t just about the weapon; it was about the principle, the violation of her professional gear.

  "It stays with me." Alph’s voice was cold, final. The dagger’s weight settled against his grip, leverage he intended to keep.

  Nylessa huffed, her quickened steps bringing her level with his shoulder. "You plan to just parade that thing down the street? Someone sees that, the city guards will be here before you can blink."

  Alph stopped.

  The words landed, a solid blow to his ribs. Alph let his breath hiss out, the weight of his mistake settling over him like a damp shroud. Of course. The blade he held was distinctive; blackened metal, the hilt wrapped in wire so thin it bit into the flesh. That was not the tool, it was a weapon and not a common one like sword or axe, and the city guards would know it instantly.

  He turned, facing her. The dim light caught the edges of her mask, the hollows of her cheeks, the way her fingers twitched near the empty sheath at her waist.

  She patted the leather with a smirk. "This what you want?"

  "You're trying to kill that noble, right?" Alph crossed his arms, the dagger still gripped loosely in one hand. The weight of it felt foreign, the wire-wrapped hilt biting into his palm. "For a bounty, I'm guessing?"

  "Could be personal," Nylessa said, her voice tight.

  "If it were personal, you'd be chasing the carriage, not me." Alph watched her carefully, noting the way her shoulders tensed, the slight flare of her nostrils. "You'd have left the moment you saw which direction it went."

  "I can help you with your task," Alph continued, his tone flat, matter-of-fact. "You won't have to take a single risk. Won't even need to get your hands dirty." He paused, letting the offer hang between them. "But I need you to do something for me."

  Nylessa went rigid, her hand jerking toward the empty scabbard at her side. A sharp inhale caught in her throat, the instinctive reaction of prey sensing danger. She retreated two paces, boot leather grinding against wet stone. The dim alley swallowed her lower face, leaving only her wary eyes visible in the gloom.

  "What do you want?" Her whisper carried an edge, brittle and defensive, shrinking her somehow.

  Alph stilled. That’s where her mind went?

  Revulsion coiled in his gut, hot and acrid. His fingers clenched around the dagger’s hilt, tendons standing stark against his skin. "Not that." The words landed like iron on an anvil. "What the hell kind of person—?"

  She recoiled as if struck. Crimson flickered in her widened eyes before she snapped her chin up, teeth bared.

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  Her eyes narrowed. "You asked with that tone. What else did you expect me to think?"

  Alph pinched the bridge of his nose. The wire-wrapped dagger still felt warm in his grip. She, of course, took the conversation there. Of course she did.

  "You jumped to conclusions," he muttered. "Gods, do you even listen before reacting?"

  Alph exhaled through his nose, pressing fingers harder against his temples. "I don't know how you survived this long in the city. Some shifty trader would've sold you for silver if you keep acting like this."

  "Wait! How do you know that?" she hissed, chest rising and falling like she'd run a sprint. "Do you work with that scrappy-beard merchant?"

  Alph's words lodged in his throat, heavy with disbelief. How could someone so astute in her craft be so oblivious to the implications of his insinuation? A rush of incredulity washed over him. She really was as much an airhead as he initially suspected; the thought stirred a mixture of irritation and reluctant amusement within him.

  Laughter bubbled up, breaking free despite the tension in the air. "You? Did that actually happen to you? I was joking, you know, but honestly, it's almost comical. You're so gullible, falling for some merchant's sweet promises while he dangles candy like bait."

  Her fingers twitched reflexively, knuckles paling as she clenched her fist. "I am an adult, not some child you can belittle," she shot back, voice sharp enough to cut through the thick atmosphere that surrounded them. Yet, in the next moment, her tone softened, curiosity breaking through her defensiveness. "But what exactly is candy?"

  Silence hung between them, gulf he couldn't bridge. Her eyes waited as the alley's chill crept into him.

  I forgot, candy doesn't exist in this world.

  The tension bled out of him, leaving his shoulders loose. Alph refocused, then asked, "Forget about it. Let’s talk business, how does your bounty system work, and what does it take to join?"

  Nylessa’s lips twisted into a wry smile, her fingers drumming against the empty sheath at her hip as if seeking a rhythm to match her thoughts. "You want to join the guild? That means you need a reference from a prominent member, someone with enough pull to vouch for your skills."

  Her crimson-tinted eyes narrowed. The predatory glint in them stood out against the alley's gloom.

  "Hold on." Suspicion edged her voice, but intrigue slithered beneath it. "You aren't planning to claim the bounty yourself?"

  The cramped alley pressed in around them. Shadows deepened the tension clinging to the damp stones.

  Alph exhaled sharply through his nose, a rush of impatience escaping him. The thick, cool air of the alley swirled around them, its dampness weighing heavily on his chest. "I already told you. I’ll kill him. You take the bounty."

  Nylessa blinked, her dark skin glistening subtly in the dim light, as she crossed her arms, wincing slightly as the movement tugged uncomfortably at her ribs, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in her line of work. "You’re serious?" she asked, skepticism lacing her voice.

  "Dead serious," he affirmed, his tone flat and unwavering, leaving no room for doubt or misinterpretation. Each word settled like stones among the shadows that clung to them. "But as I said, I need something in return."

  Nylessa tilted her head, her crimson-tinged eyes narrowing further, suspicion wrapping around her like the alley’s persistent dampness. "What?" she inquired, searching his face for hints of deception.

  "You’re a senior member, correct?"

  She nodded.

  "Then get me that reference. That’s the deal." The weight of his request hung in the cold air, intensifying the tension between them.

  Nylessa clenched her jaw, skepticism etched across her features as she scrutinized him. "Fine, I accept the deal. But what’s your name?"

  Her voice, laced with challenge, carried the weight of the alley’s lingering shadows. "And if you want, you can choose a code name for yourself."

  Alph paused, weighing his options amidst the tension hanging in the air, the faint scent of rain-soaked stone wafting through their cramped surroundings. "Raven," he finally said, a hint of resolve in his tone. "I want to go with Raven as my codename."

  Generic. Forgettable. Perfect.

  Nylessa tested the name on her tongue. "Raven." The syllables lingered in the damp alley air. She eyed him closer, suspicion warring with curiosity.

  Her voice dropped lower. "So what are you? Some kind of variant?" She gestured at his stance. "I saw those rogue reflexes. But you hit like a fighter. That's not common."

  The words came out sharp, probing. Like a knife testing for weaknesses in armor.

  Alph's heart raced under her unexpected scrutiny, but he quickly masked his reaction. With a slight nod, he reached out, his gaze fixed on the empty sheath at her hip. "Now, about that dagger's sheath."

  Nylessa’s brow tightened, her apprehension clear as she unfastened the sheath, passing the empty leather to him with visible strain. "You'll bring this back?" she asked, a tremor of doubt beneath the challenging tone.

  Alph met her gaze, his expression unyielding. "Yes," he affirmed, his voice steady. "Once I kill Pavel, the dagger with this sheath will be returned to you, stained with his blood as proof." The finality of his words hung between them like the chill in the damp air.