Rain drummed against the window, each drop ticking like a clock.
Hide peered outside. The street below was empty—no carts, no voices, just the gray wash of morning rain. He sighed and headed downstairs.
The common room was crowded despite the weather—adventurers and townsfolk hunched over mugs, gossip rising and falling in waves. As Hide claimed an empty table, he caught snippets about a parade scheduled in two days.
The inn door banged open. A big hooded figure filled the threshold, cloak dripping, heavy footsteps thudding toward the counter. Conversation died.
"One room," the figure said, voice low, sliding a bag of coins across the wood.
"R-right. This way," the innkeeper managed, visibly rattled as he led the stranger upstairs.
Hide leaned toward the nearest patron. "Who's that?"
"Trouble," the man muttered. "Not the sort you want to know."
"I see," Hide said, tamping down his curiosity.
After a while, he returned to his own room. In the hallway, he paused—voices murmured behind a door.
"So, boss, what's the plan for the mission in two days?"
Hide crept closer, ear to the wood.
"If the parade's in two days, we've got time to set up," another voice said. "We'll scope the area. It'll be heavily guarded."
Hide leaned nearer—just as the door swung open. He fell forward into the room.
In a blink, an arm coiled around his neck from behind; the cold edge of a blade kissed his skin. Another figure shut the door.
"Well, well," someone drawled. "A little spy. Should we kill him?"
A man seated at the table raised a hand. The grip on Hide released. The man approached, offered his hand, and smiled.
"Sorry about that. Neighbor next door?"
Hide shook his hand and nodded.
"Did you hear what we were discussing?"
"No."
The man glanced to a short, blonde woman. "Petra, is he lying?"
She shook her head. "He's telling the truth."
"Hm. Very well." He turned away. "Jack, kill him."
"Wait—!" Hide blurted, pulse kicking. "I won't tell anyone. I swear."
The man regarded him for a moment. "You want to live? Then answer me this—do you know who we are?"
"No," Hide said. "Not that I know of."
"Good enough. You can go."
"Just like that?" Jack objected.
"Indeed," the man said mildly. "Unless you want to start a larger problem."
Jack retreated with a scowl.
"Boss, we should tie him up at least," a girl suggested. "He could talk."
The boss sighed. "Who's going to watch him? We're not babysitters."
"I will," rumbled a familiar voice—the large figure from the inn.
Minutes later, Hide sat tied to a chair while the group inspected him. The boss stepped out on "business."
"With the boss gone, what do we do with him?" Jack said, a little too eager. "We've got two days. We could torture him."
"It's your call," Petra said, checking her pink nails. "Boss won't care."
"How about a game?" the girl from before chimed in.
"What kind of game?" someone else asked. There were eleven of them in all—different builds, ages, and moods—but the room hummed with the same dangerous confidence.
"Arm wrestling," the girl said.
A giant of a man—the big figure—dragged a table over and locked eyes with Hide. "Beat me, and you walk. Lose, and I kill you."
Hide didn't answer.
"Come on, Helm," someone snorted. "You'll crush him."
They untied Hide and set him across from Helm. When Hide clasped hands with him, he noticed a tattooed number on Helm's right hand: 7.
"Three tries," Helm said, voice flat. "After that—game over."
The air around him pressed heavy and serious.
They gripped. The girl lifted her hand. "Ready… set… go!"
Hide threw everything into the push. Helm's arm didn't budge. A heartbeat later, slam—Hide's knuckles smashed the table. His right hand flushed red.
They reset. Hide's palm throbbed, but he raised his arm again.
"Round two!" the girl sang.
Hide pushed hard. Helm barely seemed to notice—then slam. The table rattled. Hide hissed through his teeth.
"Last round," someone said. "Any bets?"
"Is that all you've got?" Helm asked, almost bored. "I thought you wanted to live."
Hide stayed silent.
"Begin," the girl said softly.
Hide pushed—and met the same unmovable force. The room's interest faded; a few looked away. Helm gave him time, a slow mercy.
"Game over," Helm said, starting to press Hide's hand down.
The edge of the table neared Hide's knuckles.
"I'm not going to die to someone like you," Hide said, voice low.
Something surged through him—sharp, sudden. In a blink, momentum reversed. Hide slammed Helm's hand down so hard the table split and collapsed.
Silence. Helm stared at his bleeding knuckles, then huffed a laugh—more impressed than angry. Jack had a blade at Hide's throat in an instant.
"Stop, Jack," Petra said. "He won."
Jack sheathed the knife with a curse.
"Kyoko," Helm said, flexing fingers with a wince, "patch me up. Kid did a number on me."
The girl—Kyoko—brought out needle and thread.
"You've got potential," Helm said to Hide. "What's your name?"
"Cyrus," Hide said, the lie smooth.
"Cyrus, huh? I'm Helm." He nodded around the room. "You've heard some names by now. If you're curious, talk to them."
Hide glanced at the tattoos. "The number on your hand…?"
"Rank," Helm said. "Lower number, higher standing. I'm 7. Jack is 4. Kyoko is 10. Petra is 3."
"I see. So the boss is 1."
"Correct."
"And your group?"
"We're the Zodiacs," Petra said, stepping in.
"The Zodiacs," Hide repeated. He'd never heard of them.
"Petra, recruit him," Helm said.
"Maybe," she said, studying Hide. "You beat our strongest physically. How?"
"Sheer luck," Jack muttered, clearly unconvinced.
"Either way," Petra said, stepping back, "you won. You're free to go."
The door opened. The Boss returned.
The room went quiet. He took in the splintered table, Helm's bandaged hand, and then Hide.
"Looks like I missed something," he said lightly, eyes lingering on Hide.
Helm approached him. "Boss, recruit him. He bested me. He's got potential."
The boss considered, then nodded. "He can join us if he proves himself on the mission in two days. If he can handle it, he's in. It's his choice."
He stopped beside Hide. "Beating Helm is no small feat. I won't force you. But since you're already tangled up in this, you'll come along either way. Decide after."
"Understood," Hide said.
"Try not to get yourself killed," the boss added with a faint bow. "Oh—right. Name's Chronos."
He left the door open behind him. Hide slipped out and returned to his room. He lay on the bed, staring at his bruised hand.
"I thought you'd beat him," Jack said to Helm.
"So did I," Helm admitted. "But the kid unleashed something at the end and flipped it. Broke my hand, too."
"You don't think he's… like us?" Jack asked quietly.
"Maybe," Petra said, thoughtful. "There's more to him than he shows."
"Boss," she asked as Chronos reentered, "what did you see?"
Chronos smiled. "He's stronger than a normal adventurer. I expected one of you would be surprised if you tried him."
Kyoko blinked. "You knew?"
Chronos chuckled. "Let's say I had a feeling."
"Think he'll join?" another member asked.
"There's a possibility," Chronos said.
Back in his room, Hide flexed his fingers and winced. "So there are strong people out here. Not just me and Master Izumi."
He exhaled and stared at the ceiling. "At least I learned a few things—faces, ranks, rhythms. Petra can sense lies. Chronos reads a room too well. I should watch what I say… and what I don't."
He rubbed his wrist and groaned. "And I'm stuck on their mission… which means I'll probably miss the parade."
The rain kept ticking at the window. Hide closed his eyes and let the ache fade.