Chapter 160: Delivery
The box weighed against his hip like a torn-out heart. Dylan followed Jonas through the winding alleys of the black market, each step heavier under the gaze of the blind statues. His mind still lingered on Jonas’ warning.
This Gael...
A Threshold, apparently. A ferryman to things that had no name. But that was exactly what drew him in. He hadn’t come to this world for gold—hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was here. But to survive, he needed to understand its cracks, the underground currents where real power flowed.
Three hundred gold coins. The sum was laughable for the risk. And yet, it was perfect. Enough to buy identities, enough to justify his "legal" entry into public affairs without raising too much suspicion.
He suddenly remembered his own words, spoken the night before to Elisa and Maggie around a meager campfire: "We always warn each other. No solo missions, no accepting deals without thinking them through." The taste of the lie clung to his tongue, bitter and familiar.
Him, a former lieutenant, knew better than anyone that rules were lines to be crossed when the opportunity was worth it. And this one... it reeked of the abyss and the truth.
Jonas stopped abruptly in front of a crack in the damp stone wall, far from the last flickering lights of the smoky lanterns. The air smelled of mildew and cold metal.
"Here’s your way out," Jonas muttered, avoiding his gaze. "The sewers. Only way to avoid the gates and the eyes that matter in the High-Territory. But you sure you wanna do this? Gael... he ain’t just some client. He’s a real bastard."
Dylan adjusted the strap of his bag, feeling the unsettling warmth of the box through the leather. "Three hundred gold, Jonas. And a door opening. Don’t worry about me. Go back to the inn. If Elisa or Maggie ask... tell ’em I’m tracking a lead. No details."
Jonas stared at him, disbelief and fear warring in his tired eyes. "You’re playing with fire that’ll eat your soul before it burns your skin, Dylan." He shook his head and melted into the shadows without another word.
Dylan stood still for a moment, listening to the heavy silence of the stones and the distant echoes of the market. Then he slipped into the crack.