I wake up before the sun.

  Not because I’m rested.

  Because I had a dream about getting stabbed again and my ribs decided to remind me they still exist.

  I roll out of bed like someone falling off a cliff in slow motion. Tipo’s still snoring—dead to the world, half a bandage stuck to his forehead. Good for him.

  I don’t bother with breakfast.

  I don’t even strap on my glaive.

  I just grab my boots and head for the Mission Hall.

  The stone’s cold underfoot. Everything smells like ash and dried sweat and bad decisions. The Hall’s quiet this early— no crowd yet, just a few bleary-eyed Hunters squinting at the board like it personally betrayed them.

  The bounty screen pings as I walk in.

  I scroll fast. Skip the bandit patrols. Skip the escort jobs. Skip the beast hunts.

  Then, there.

  “Unconfirmed Rogue: Blade-Wielding Attacker

  Affiliation: Unknown

  Threat Level: A-Rank (Provisional)

  Special Notes: Agile. Trained. High Perception. Escaped Crimson contact during attempted Blade recovery.

  Reward: 20,000 XP + Item Credit”

  My mouth actually goes dry.

  20,000.

  That’s not a number. That’s a goddamn lifeline.

  It’d catapult me out of probation. Out of the dorms. Into a cabin with my name on the door and a bed that doesn’t smell like blood and regret.

  I could breathe.

  I could exist.

  And all I have to do… is confirm who she is.

  And if she’s not one of us?

  If she’s not Crimson, if she’s some outside piece dropped on the board for chaos?

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Then she’s just XP.

  A walking rank-up.

  Simple math.

  I stare at the bounty a second longer. Burn it into memory.

  Pleit sketched her from memory during the debrief, linework crisp, mage-ink precision, every feature cataloged like she was a criminal artifact. And yeah, it was accurate. Too accurate. But honestly? I didn’t need the drawing.

  You don’t forget a face like that.

  Not when it’s the one that sliced open your shoulder with the kind of precision that says, I could’ve killed you. I chose not to.

  That choice keeps crawling back through my skull like it’s trying to mean something.

  Then I turn and walk out. Because I’m not going to find her from a distance.

  Didn’t even take my glaive. Too loud. Too obvious. Just a side dagger, my reinforced boots, and a flask laced with shadowroot. Keeps my mana signature low. Doesn’t do jack for pain, but I’m used to that.

  Ashen Hold’s outer corridor hums with night tension. Torches sputter. Crickets chirp like they’re mocking me. A couple Hunters are stationed near the gate, one leaning on a pike, the other pretending he’s alert.

  I don’t bother sneaking past.

  I run.

  Fast. Direct. Like I belong out here.

  Confidence is the best cloak you can wear.

  That, and the fact that most of them don’t give enough of a damn to chase a blur in the dark.

  One of them shouts, “Hey—!” but I’m already gone. Over the stone lip. Down the pass. Through the fissure path where the cliffs turn into ribs of ancient mountains.

  They call it “The Brick” because creativity died in the naming department, apparently.

  But the thing lives up to it—one massive, rectangular monstrosity of rune-laced stone, ancient etchings burned deep into its walls. It pulses with residual enchantment.

  You can feel the pressure from a hundred yards out, like your blood is being asked for permission to keep circulating.

  Scribe territory.

  I crouch behind a ridge and exhale slow.

  The wind stings.

  I’m close now.

  Too close to back out.

  Whatever’s inside there—her file, her truth, her affiliation—it’s the difference between a 20K payout and a lifetime of questions I can’t afford to leave unanswered.

  PAULITA’S POV

  Sleep was never going to happen.

  Not with Torex snoring through the wall like someone’s strangling a warhorn.

  I roll onto my side. The blankets are too warm. The pillow’s too soft. And my mind? Still running drills like I’m in training again.

  I close my eyes. Try to breathe.

  That’s when the knock comes.

  I don’t flinch. Just sigh.

  “Come in,” I call, already knowing who it is.

  Bravius.

  His coat sweeps in first, smelling like spell ash and dragonroot. Eyes bright like always. He never does anything halfway. Never speaks without conviction. It’s one of the reasons I tolerate him.

  Tonight, though, he looks almost excited.

  “Apologies for the hour,” he says. Which is a lie. Bravius thrives on midnight updates.

  I sit up, brushing sleep off my voice. “What is it?”

  He steps in, already unrolling a scroll. “Just thought you’d appreciate the absurdity. Crimson Fang just posted a bounty.”

  I arch a brow. “They post bounties every week.”

  “This one’s… special.” He hands it to me. “Twenty thousand XP. For a single individual.”

  That wakes me up.

  I scan the document. It’s messy. Probably pulled from a Hunter-side terminal. The sketch is vague—almost useless—-but I recognize the description.

  Female. Blade-trained. Fast. Rogue. No guild tags. No confirmed affiliation. Escaped from Crimson contact during a failed Blade retrieval.

  My heartbeat doesn’t change.

  But everything inside me cracks sideways.

  Bravius chuckles. “They’re fighting ghosts, I swear. No identity, no leads, just bruised egos and bounty inflation.”

  “Typical,” I say, keeping my voice flat.

  He grins. “They’re even blaming Storm Fang for covering her tracks. Internal turf war. Swords out, brains off.”

  I nod, pretending to skim the scroll again.

  But my stomach’s already sinking.

  He saw me.

  The boy. Glaive-wielder. Reckless.

  He knows my face from when he snuck into this building with his weird-looking friend and decided to "prank us."

  Yeah… I saw the whole thing. And I put the books back where they belonged. The only thing they went too far with ripping out a page.

  Fucking stupids.

  I should’ve killed that man.

  In the cave where I first saw him, when everything was colder and quieter.

  Should’ve aimed for his head instead of his shoulder.

  Should’ve thrown both my blades.

  He saw me in this building.

  Now he is so coming for me.

  Everyone would, for 20.000 XP.