The morning light in The Copper Flagon was softer than in the village inn, filtering through high windows and catching the dust motes in the air. I ate breakfast slowly, the system quiet for now but humming just under the surface — a sense of readiness, as if it knew the day would matter.
The serving girl was working the morning shift too, moving between tables with the same ease she had last night. When she passed by my seat, her eyes flicked toward me for the briefest moment before she turned her attention to another customer.
[Influence level with target: 55%. Chance of successful approach without resistance: high.]
Not yet. I wasn't here just to close on her. She was my steady progress thread, my guaranteed yield. What I wanted today was to open another one — the merchant woman in the burgundy dress.
I left the inn with the market just coming alive. The streets were filling with merchants hauling goods, locals doing their first round of shopping, and travelers like me drifting from stall to stall.
It was busier than the village ever got, the air thick with the calls of vendors and the clatter of carts on cobblestone. The smells mingled in a chaotic symphony—freshly baked bread from one stall, the earthy tang of herbs from another, and the sharp bite of tanned leather wafting from a nearby tannery. People brushed past in a hurry, their conversations snippets of haggling, gossip, and complaints about the weather. This place pulsed with life, and with it, opportunity.
The merchant woman was easy to spot amid the crowd—her burgundy dress stood out like a jewel among the muted tones of workaday clothes. She moved with purpose, her dark hair pinned neatly, that single streak of silver catching the sun like a badge of experience. She was at a fabric stall, holding a bolt of deep green cloth up to the light, examining it with a critical eye that spoke of someone who knew value when she saw it.
[Target identified. Social standing: merchant class. Estimated Desire Point yield: high. Personality type: challenge-oriented.]
I drifted closer without making it obvious, browsing a stall that sold small metal trinkets—rings, pendants, and odd little charms etched with runes. The seller, an older man with a grizzled beard, launched into a pitch about how one pendant could "ward off ill fortune," but my attention was elsewhere. I watched her from the corner of my eye, noting the way she negotiated: firm, unyielding, but never rude. She got what she wanted without burning bridges.
When she stepped away from the fabric stall, I moved — not to her, but to the stall she'd just left. I picked up the same green cloth she'd examined, letting it run through my fingers, feeling the weave's quality.
"Good eye," the fabric seller said, a wiry woman with callused hands. "That's quality weave from the western looms. Strong, dyes well."
I nodded, glancing casually in the direction she'd gone. "The woman who was just here — she buy often from you?"
The seller shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron. "Now and then. Knows what she's looking for, that one. Drives a hard bargain, but pays fair."
I filed that away — she was a repeat buyer, but not someone who lingered. That meant getting her attention would require interrupting her in a way that made me memorable, something that positioned me as an equal rather than a nuisance.
The opportunity came sooner than I expected. I spotted her again near a spice merchant's stall, one hand on her hip as she inspected small jars lined up in neat rows—vibrant reds, yellows, and browns promising flavors from distant lands.
I stepped in from the side, careful to keep my tone casual, non-intrusive. "That one's better for baking than stewing."
She glanced at me, her eyes cool and assessing, sharp as a blade. "Excuse me?"
"The jar you're holding," I said, nodding toward it. "Too sweet for meat. Works well in bread or cakes."
"And you would know this because…?"
"I've worked kitchens before," I said easily, drawing on half-remembered knowledge from my old life and the enhanced intuition this body seemed to grant. "Picked up a few things along the way."
Her brow lifted just slightly, a micro-expression of intrigue, then she set the jar down and picked up another. "And this one?"
"That's sharper. Good for poultry."
She considered me for a second longer than necessary, her gaze lingering on my face as if cataloging details—my build, my confidence, the subtle presence Enhanced Body I lent to my posture. Then she handed the spice merchant a coin. "Noted."
She walked away without another word, her steps measured, but I caught the faintest backward glance.
[Influence level with target: 5%. Interest registered: low but present.]
Not much, but it was a start. She hadn't dismissed me entirely, which meant the door was open. In a town like this, where reputations spread like wildfire through market chatter, even a small interaction could ripple outward.
The rest of the morning, I alternated between watching the flow of the market and checking in at the trinket stall. The seller tried to upsell me on a "charmed" bracelet, but I waved him off, my mind mapping the merchant's path—she circled the stalls in a pattern, efficient, avoiding the busier sections until the crowds thinned.
By midday, I returned to the inn for a quick meal, the sun high and warm, casting short shadows across the cobblestones.
The serving girl was there again, sliding a mug onto my table without being asked. Her red hair was tied back loosely, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and her freckles seemed more pronounced in the daylight filtering through the windows.
"You're making a habit of this," I said, my voice low enough to draw her in.
"Maybe I like the company," she said, tilting her head, her smile carrying a hint of last night's heat.
[Influence level with target: 63%.]
When the room thinned out, she leaned in, her hand brushing the table near mine. "If you're around tonight, I might have a break."
I let a small smile curve my mouth. "I'll be here."
Back in the market later that afternoon, I spotted the merchant woman again — this time at a stall selling dried fruit, piles of figs, dates, and apricots glistening under a canvas awning. She was testing the texture of a fig between her fingers when I stepped up beside her.
"Careful with that one," I said lightly. "Looks dry enough to crack a tooth."
She turned to look at me fully this time, recognition flickering in her eyes. "Do you comment on every purchase strangers make?"
"Only when I can save them coin."
She studied me for a moment, then put the fig back and selected a different piece, one plumper and darker.
"Better?" she asked, holding it up with a hint of challenge in her voice.
"Much," I said, letting just enough Desire Tongue edge into the word to make it linger, warm and inviting.
[Influence level with target: 12%.]
It was working — not quickly, but steadily. She wasn't the type to be swayed by a single conversation. She'd need proof I was worth her attention—something that showed insight, utility, perhaps even a spark of dominance in a world where she clearly held her own.
By late afternoon, I'd made three small interactions with her. Each was casual, each left her with a choice — engage with me or ignore me. She'd engaged every time, her responses growing from curt to curious, her posture shifting ever so slightly toward me in the last exchange.
Back at the inn that evening, the serving girl found me before I could even sit down. The common room was filling with the dinner crowd, the air thick with the scent of stew and fresh bread, but she moved through it like it was empty, her eyes locked on mine.
"Upstairs or here?" she asked quietly, her voice a whisper meant only for me.
"Here's fine for now."
We sat at a corner table, tucked away from the main bustle, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on her freckled skin. Her shift was over, but she'd lingered, her apron discarded, revealing the simple blouse that clung just enough to hint at the curves beneath. She slid into the seat across from me, her foot brushing mine under the table—not accidental, her smile confirming it.
"You've been out all day," she said, leaning forward, her voice teasing, laced with that playful edge from the hall last night. "Making friends in the market?"
"Something like that," I replied, my gaze holding hers, letting Desire Tongue infuse my words with a subtle pull. "But none as interesting as you."
She laughed softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug, but her eyes darkened, the flush creeping up her neck a telltale sign. "Flatterer. What makes me so special?"
I reached across the table, my hand covering hers, Desire Touch activating with the contact—warmth spreading from my palm to her skin, making her breath hitch, her pupils dilate. "The way you look at me. Like you're deciding if I'm worth the risk."
Her hand turned under mine, fingers intertwining, squeezing lightly. "And if I am?" she whispered, leaning closer, her breath warm against my ear as she shifted in her seat, her knee pressing against mine now, deliberate and insistent.
"Then let's find out," I murmured, standing and guiding her up with me. We slipped through the side door again, the hall darker now, the lantern's flame lower, casting intimate shadows that hid us from prying eyes. The moment the door clicked shut, she was on me—her lips crashing into mine with a hunger built from the day's anticipation, tongues tangling in a heated dance that tasted of ale and desire. My hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against me, feeling the rapid beat of her heart mirroring mine.
She broke the kiss only to gasp as my fingers worked the ties of her blouse, loosening them with deliberate slowness, exposing the pale skin of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts. "I've been thinking about this all day," she confessed, her voice husky, hands fumbling with my shirt, yanking it open to trace the lines of my chest, nails scraping lightly in trails that sent sparks down my spine. Desire Touch amplified every caress, making her shiver as I cupped her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it hardened, drawing a moan from her lips.
We backed against the wall, her leg hooking around my waist, grinding against me with a need that matched the growing hardness pressing into her. My hand slid under her skirt, fingers teasing up her thigh, finding the damp heat between her legs—slipping past the thin barrier to circle her clit, then dipping inside her slick warmth. She bucked against my hand, walls clenching around my fingers as I pumped slowly, curling to hit that spot that made her cry out softly, her head falling back against the wood.
"You're... so good at this," she panted, her hands dropping to my belt, freeing me with eager tugs, wrapping around my length and stroking with a rhythm that had me groaning into her neck. Desire Touch flowed both ways now, heightening the sensations—the velvet grip of her hand, the slick slide as she guided me to her entrance.
I lifted her slightly, her legs wrapping around me as I thrust in—slow at first, savoring the tight embrace, then deeper, harder, the hall echoing with the slap of skin and her muffled moans. She clung to me, nails digging into my shoulders, her body arching with each plunge, Desire Touch pushing her toward the edge faster, her walls fluttering around me in building waves. "Don't stop," she begged, her voice breaking, and I didn't—angling to hit deeper, my free hand teasing her clit until she shattered, climaxing with a shuddering cry, pulling me over with her as I spilled inside, the release crashing through us both.
We sank to the floor after, her head on my chest, breaths syncing in the afterglow, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. "Come find me tomorrow," she whispered, sealing it with a kiss before slipping away.
When she finally left for the night, the system chimed.
[Desire Points earned: +5. Cumulative total: 43.]
[Influence level with target: 75%.]
Almost there. One more push and she'd be fully bonded — a solid foothold before I aimed for the bigger prize.
In my room, leaning against the window, I watched the torches flicker in the street below, their light dancing on the cobblestones like distant stars. The merchant woman had passed by twice that day, her path predictable now—a routine I could exploit. She'd seen me both times, her glances lingering longer each encounter. The next step was finding a reason for her to stop, something that turned casual advice into indispensable aid.
[System objective update: Secondary target engagement priority increased. Suggestion: leverage market conflict or assistance scenario to accelerate influence gain.]
So, a staged rescue or a useful favor. I could work with that—perhaps intervening in a haggling dispute or offering insight on a shady deal. The market was full of such moments, ripe for insertion.
Tomorrow, the game would change. I'd start early, position myself near her usual stalls, wait for the opening. With the serving girl nearly claimed, my stamina buffer would strengthen, and the merchant's yield could unlock the next enhancement. This town was a stepping stone, but I'd milk it for every point before moving on. The road ahead promised larger cities, greater challenges, and power beyond what I'd tasted so far. For now, though, sleep came easy, my body humming with the day's victories.