Seth turned off the main road, the noise of the city fading behind him as he stepped into a narrow, grimy alleyway.
The air here was thick with the smell of rotting garbage and stale urine.
A dirty, homeless man was curled up in a cardboard shelter, fast asleep.
Further down, a middle-aged woman leaned against a brick wall.
She had applied thick, cheap makeup in an attempt to look younger, but the deep wrinkles around her eyes and mouth betrayed her age and a life of hardship.
Seeing Seth, her eyes lit up with a practiced, hollow kind of hope.
She pushed herself off the wall and gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Hey there, handsome."
She called out, her voice raspy.
"You're quite good looking... A hundred bathalas, and I'll let you do anything you want tonight."
To emphasize her offer, she slowly lifted the hem of her thin shirt, revealing a pale, gaunt stomach.
Seth felt a pang of pity, but his expression remained neutral.
He wasn't shocked or tempted.
His gaze moved past her, focusing on a small, closed store at the very end of the alley.
It was guarded by a young man who looked surprisingly out of place.
He couldn't have been older than twenty, with a round, almost innocent face.
But his body told a different story.
He was built like a bull, with broad shoulders and thick arms that strained the fabric of his simple civilian tunic.
He stood with a quiet, watchful stillness that screamed "guard."
Anyone with half a brain could see he wasn't just loitering...
"Is that a store?"
Seth asked the woman, pointing.
"What do they sell there?"
The building had no name, and no products were displayed in the dusty window.
The only indication it was open for business was a small, hand-painted wooden sign nailed to the door that simply read: "Store Open."
The woman looked confused for a second, then annoyed that he was more interested in the shop than in her.
She crossed her arms.
"Five bathalas, and I'll tell you everything."
Seth turned his pants pockets inside out.
They were completely empty.
"No money."
He said simply.
She let out a heavy sigh, defeated.
"Fine. It's supposedly a pawnshop, or at least that's what people around here say. Out in the open, they might sell a few things. But I've been on this street long enough to know better. They probably sell drugs and other illegal stuff in the back."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"I've seen members of the Turtleback Gang visit here quite a few times. No way in hell would those violent muscleheads come here just to buy old electronics, jewelry, or musical instruments. May the goddess strike me down if I'm lying."
Seth listened carefully, storing every detail.
"Substance trading isn't that uncommon though. You'll probably find a few in this city if you looked hard enough."
He stood in silence for a moment, weighing his options.
Finally, he just nodded.
"I see."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, not even glancing at the pawnshop's door.
"Another weirdo..."
The woman muttered under her breath, her shoulders slumping as she turned her attention back to the alley's entrance, hoping for a more profitable customer.
Seth did not go that far.
He found a shadowy recess near the mouth of the alley, partially hidden by a stack of empty crates.
He took a deep, calming breath and focused inward.
He activated [Null Presence].
It was a strange sensation, like pouring a bucket of cold water over his own soul.
He felt his significance in the world diminish, his very presence becoming thin and faint.
He settled in to wait, his patience as deep as a well.
He was testing his ability's limits, and part of that test was endurance.
Over an hour passed.
The sun shifted in the sky as the streets became livelier and livelier.
The homeless man stirred in his sleep.
The prostitute occasionally called out to passersby with dwindling hope.
Then, Seth's target appeared.
A man in his early thirties approached the alley.
He wore a cheap, slightly rumpled suit, his hair was slicked back, and he had prominent sideburns.
His skin had a pale, almost sickly hue.
He walked with a nervous, hurried step straight toward the pawnshop.
The young, muscular guard immediately straightened up.
"Hello, sir."
He said, his voice deeper than expected.
"If there's anything you need, the store clerk is at the front desk."
The man in the suit offered a tight, businesslike smile.
"I'd like to check the back for jewelries."
He said, emphasizing the last word.
There was a brief, understanding silence.
This was clearly a code.
The guard gave a slight nod, reached into his tunic, and pulled out a small, square piece of yellow paper.
He handed it to the man without a word.
Then, he pulled open the heavy wooden door just enough for the man to slip through.
"Thank you."
The man in the suit said, and he stepped inside.
Unbeknownst to them, as the door began to swing shut, another figure also moved in.
Seth slipped through the narrowing gap a heartbeat before the door clicked closed.
The guard, now back at his post, didn't flinch as though he had not seen Seth come in at all.
Inside, Seth pressed himself against a wall as he observed the slightly run down shop.
The shop was dimly lit by a single, flickering gas lamp.
It looked like a normal, but a bit shabby, pawnshop.
A long glass counter displayed an odd assortment of items.
There were tarnished silver lockets, a few mismatched ceramic plates, a broken pocket watch, and a dusty harmonica.
Behind the counter, shelves were crammed with more junk— old tools, stacks of books with cracked spines, and a few musical instruments in various states of disrepair.
It was the perfect front as it looked utterly legitimate and completely uninteresting.