My sapphire-like eyes now fixed upon the holographic board, centered on a bluish-white iron amulet lying on the round table.
Meanwhile, my body sat straight—tense—on a minimalist chair, fingers interlocked above the table.
"So… you're giving me a side mission?" I asked.
The man on the hologram replied, "Yes. Your side mission is to establish a connection within the 'Blood Circle.'"
I pondered for a moment.
That side mission was a ticking bomb. A single wrong move—wrong contact, wrong word, wrong act—could hasten my death. After giving me a task to walk into a tiger's den, now they wanted me to defuse a bomb? Are they insane?
"Is this related to the 'Aurora Syndicate'?"
"Yes. But don't worry, you won't need to launch any assaults or do anything flashy. You'll act as an observer, a spy, and our informant," said the man in the hologram—Draven. "So you don't have to be anxious about the situation later. Just play the part of a background character."
I thought for a moment.
Hmm… not bad. Building connections in an area I've never touched before—and the price of each piece of information could be worth a fortune.
"Very well. I'll take the mission," I said firmly.
A "good" smile curved at the corner of my lips.
Nothing outweighs money.
• • •
Busway, Old City Highway, Late Afternoon.
Of course, sometimes you have to burn money to earn more than before.
My stomach growled—a sign that I needed to recharge my energy. With my current salary, that wasn't difficult anymore. Buying a kilo of chicken and some vegetables at the supermarket might soon become my routine.
The bus arrived and halted with a soft hiss. I stepped in and sat calmly, leaning back, gazing at the peaceful cityscape. So different from the other cities.
From what I've heard, this used to be nothing more than an old, uninhabitable town. Its buildings were unsafe to live in. That's why most people migrated to other cities or states.
But under the current mayor's leadership, everything was rebuilt—orderly—and it became one of the safest cities. Although it slowly evolved alongside other developing cities, the old-town charm that had existed for decades never faded. It was even nicknamed "The Retiree City," a place where workers came to rest and find peace after leaving their careers behind.
"This is how I should've been living…" I murmured.
Not long after, a sound beside me shattered my daydream. An elderly woman next to me had dropped her groceries. My head turned toward the sound, and instinctively, I helped her pick them up.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?" I asked, after placing the items back in her bag.
"I'm fine," the old woman replied, staring at me for a while.
"Young man, are you new to this city?" she asked.
I gave a faint smile. "Yes. I have some business here, and I'll be staying for a while."
"You're far too young to be a businessman. What kind of work do you do?"
"My job—"
"Grandma!"
A girl rushed toward the old woman, helping her sit down properly.
"Hey! Neila! I was having a conversation!"
"Sorry. Did my grandmother trouble you?" The girl—with a single ponytail, ideal proportions, and a striking face—instantly caught my attention.
But beyond all that, there was something about her that deeply captivated me. "This feeling… could it be…" I muttered softly.
"Not at all. Are you her granddaughter?"
The girl gave a small nod, then turned as if to sit back down with her grandmother.
But I stopped her, gently holding her wrist.
"E-Eh? What is it, sir? Do you need something?"
I released her hand and pulled a business card from my shirt pocket. "I'm an antique collector. I buy and sell relics. I'd like to recruit you to work with me."
"B-But I'm still a high school student." She took the card anyway, perhaps out of politeness.
"That's fine. I'll wait. It's rare to find a 'talent' like you."
"Talent?"
"No need. Thank you for the offer," the old woman said as she tugged her granddaughter's wrist, guiding her to the front seat.
An overprotective grandmother. But that's alright—I can always try another time.
Heh…
I didn't expect to find such a raw gem in this city.
Her name was Neila.
An Energiser…
Not bad. She only needs time to adapt to her own power.
•••••
[PoV: Neila Harfes]
Block 3A, Old City.
My grandmother and I walked along the sidewalk after getting off the bus, heading to our apartment. A large apartment in the Block 3A area.
Along the way, many people greeted us—young and old alike—and we returned their greetings. It was normal; it was my grandmother's habit to introduce herself to everyone. You know? For the permanent residents of this city, they all knew my grandmother. Consider her an elder who was born and will die here.
And me? Her granddaughter who has lived with her since my parents passed—they had an accident while on a distribution run.
I don't know the details of their deaths. All I know is that they are gone, that's all.
"Gran, why did you refuse that man's offer?" I asked, curious about my grandmother's earlier action.
"Neila, you're seventeen now. You're an adult. You must understand—nobody is truly good by appearance. The business world is something you must avoid."
"Why?"
Grandmother fell silent for a moment. "Because there, you stand on the graves of people. There is no pure good or evil—only those who live. And your parents were victims of the world they lived in."
Her last sentence hung in the air like the scent of rain before a storm. I wanted to ask more, but my grandmother's face had suddenly hardened, and I held my tongue.
We entered the apartment lobby—quiet and cold—so different from her warm greetings outside.
"Talent," I whispered inwardly as my grandmother opened the door to our modest apartment. What did she mean? I was just an ordinary high school girl. My grades weren't bad, but they weren't remarkable either. I could dance traditional dances—that was it. Nothing a collector would call a "talent."
That night, while my grandmother slept soundly in her room, I stood before my bedroom mirror. I studied my reflection. Long black hair in a single tie, ordinary brown eyes, a body some friends might call proportional. Nothing special. So why did that man…?
Without realizing it, my hand rose; my fingers nearly touched the mirror's surface. Something strange happened. A peculiar warmth flowed from inside me, slow and faint, like an underground stream. The mirror misted slightly, barely noticeable. I wiped it. Maybe it was only my breath.
Or… maybe not?
.....