Walking down the stairs, I saw Greth standing outside his usual counter, beside a rocking chair that hadn’t been there before.


    "Is it new?" I asked, giving a polite smile as I approached him.


    "Ah, Asher, good morning," Greth greeted, his voice calm but with a hint of excitement he couldn’t quite hide. He glanced at the chair and grinned. "Just bought it. I’ve always wanted one."


    "Oh, really? That’s good to hear. I’ve heard old men like these kinds of things," I teased.


    Greth chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "It’s not just for the old. It’s a piece of comfort, a place to sit and think." He took a seat, the chair groaning slightly under his weight but holding firm. The wood was a rich mahogany, intricately carved with ornate designs that spoke of excellent craftsmanship. "You should try it," he offered.


    I shook my head with a laugh. "I’ll decline. You should enjoy it." The thought of him getting glued to it amused me.


    Greth nodded and began to rock gently, his eyes distant, lost in thought. It was rare to see him so tranquil. Usually, he was attentive to his customers, always ready to strike up a conversation or offer advice. This moment of quiet reflection was unusual. "What’s on your mind?" I asked gently, not wanting to disturb him too much.


    "Just thinking about how far I’ve come in life, how many years have passed since I started this business," he said, a small smile playing on his lips as he drifted into nostalgia.


    I looked at his serene and peaceful face, at how calm and satisfied he seemed with his life. A pang of jealousy struck me. He had found contentment, something I still struggled to grasp.


    Noticing my gaze, Greth grinned and asked, "What’s on *your* mind now?"


    "You look so satisfied, I thought you might even die with a smile right now," I said with a small smile of my own.


    His lips twitched in annoyance, and he glared at me for a moment before responding. "Brat, don’t kill me just yet. I have many things to do in life. I want to complete a century, you know."


    I chuckled at his words. "A century, huh? That’s quite a milestone. I’ll come to meet you after a century, then," I said as I walked toward the door.


    "Pfft—I’ll make sure I live longer than you," Greth’s voice echoed behind me, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as well.


    Stepping outside, I was greeted by the lively chaos of the morning streets. Carriages rattled down the cobblestone roads, their drivers shouting to clear the way. Street vendors called out to passersby, their voices blending into a symphony of commerce.


    The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread, roasted nuts, and the occasional whiff of something less pleasant. Children darted between stalls, their laughter ringing out, while adults hurried about their daily routines.


    I made my way toward the alleyway where Albert was waiting. He leaned casually against a lamppost, his blonde hair messy as always, his sharp pale blue eyes scanning the crowd.


    "Oh, boss, you’re on time today," Albert said with a smirk as I approached.


    I rolled my eyes. "I’m never late. You’re just too eager."


    "You were late yesterday, though," he pointed out.


    "Did you say something?" I asked, feigning ignorance.


    He shook his head, grinning. "You’re just imagining things."


    Ignoring his banter, I walked closer. Albert was a young man with a sharp tongue and a knack for finding trouble.


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    His clothes were worn, and his hair was perpetually disheveled, but he was the only informant I had, and he was reliable in his own way.


    "Did you find anything I asked for?" I inquired.


    Albert’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, yes, I did. I was waiting for you because I might need your help with it."


    My curiosity piqued, I leaned in. "What is it?"


    "If you’re looking for illegal distribution of drugs or potions, the slums are our best bet. But it’s dangerous—many criminals have made their base there. I didn’t check it out myself," he admitted.


    I nodded, understanding his caution. "That’s smart. We can’t have our only lead getting into trouble. Tell me what you know."


    "What I found isn’t much, really," he said. "Drug addicts are nothing new here, and I don’t even know exactly what you’re looking for."


    I sighed. I didn’t know what I was looking for either. How was I supposed to explain it to him?


    "Then let’s just wander the slums. Maybe we’ll find a lead," I suggested, walking past him.


    Albert followed, his tone cautious. "But boss, it’s dangerous. Not exactly a place for a noble like you."


    I gave him an amused look. "I’m not a noble. Why would you think that?" My clothes were ordinary, and I wore no armor or insignia.


    He looked at me in astonishment. "Wait, you’re not?"


    "I’m not. Just think—why would a noble help you with debt collection to begin with?" I shrugged.


    "Well, you look like one, walk like one, and even talk like one sometimes," he mused. Then, as if realizing something, he added, "Yeah, you’re not a noble. After all, why would a noble fight like a brute?"


    I didn’t bother correcting him. Let him think what he wanted.


    We reached the alleyway that led to the slums, and the contrast was stark. The vibrant main street gave way to narrow, grimy passages. The air was thick with the stench of rotting food and sewage, making my stomach churn.


    The buildings leaned precariously, their walls stained and crumbling. Shadows stretched long, and the faint light from occasional windows seemed afraid to penetrate the gloom.


    Albert looked at me with a smug smile. "You sure you want to go in there?"


    I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head and nodded. "Let’s go."


    We stepped into the alley, the cobblestones slick and sticky beneath my boots. Albert led the way with surprising confidence for someone who had claimed the area was too dangerous to scout alone.


    The alley grew narrower, the buildings closing in as if they might collapse at any moment. The sounds of the market faded, replaced by the distant murmur of voices and the occasional cry of a child.


    People sat outside their homes, some with dazed expressions, others scanning their surroundings with hollow eyes.


    I sighed at the sight but kept moving. Albert walked ahead, seemingly unfazed. "Don’t care too much about what you see," he said solemnly.


    "These people don’t want your pity. And don’t try to help them, either. If you help one, another will come after."


    I nodded, keeping my eyes forward. His words carried the weight of experience. It was clear he had spent a lot of time in these parts.


    Suddenly, a woman came running from a nearby house, staggering as she looked around wildly. Her hair was matted, her dress torn and dirty. Desperation and fear were etched into her face.


    She caught sight of us and stumbled in our direction, her hand reaching out as if we were her last hope.


    "Have you seen my daughter? She’s a head shorter than me, looks just like me," she pleaded, her hands moving frantically as she tried to describe her child.


    Albert’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t stop walking. "Keep moving. She’s just looking for a handout," he muttered.


    "I’m not!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "I do cleaning at people’s houses. I’m not so low as to sell myself."


    Her words struck me. The slums were filled with desperate people, but not everyone was a beggar or a criminal. I stopped and turned to face her. "I believe you. What happened? Tell me," I said firmly.


    "I came home from work last night and fell asleep. I’ve been searching for her since morning, but I can’t find her," she said, her eyes searching for any glimmer of hope.


    Albert stopped as well, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and pity. "What’s her name?" he asked.


    "Lila," she said, her voice trembling. "Lila, with a small mole under her left eye."


    "We don’t know where she is, but if we find her, we’ll let you know," I said.


    Her eyes searched my face for any sign of deceit. Finding none, she nodded weakly. "Thank you. Thank you so much." With that, she turned and disappeared back into the maze of alleys, her desperation palpable.


    Albert and I exchanged glances. "We can’t get involved in this," he said, his voice low.


    I stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Just look into missing children as well. And report it to the Temple of Stars anonymously."


    "But boss, we’re here for the potions, not to get into someone’s personal problems," Albert protested.


    "I know. I’ll pay for it," I said firmly.


    Albert’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded. "As you wish, boss." He turned and began scanning the area, his sharp eyes darting around the shadows.


    I kept staring at this hellhole of a place, so far removed from anything good. The slums were a stark reminder of the world’s inequalities, a place where hope was scarce and survival was a daily battle.