Lucen stood up.
The bench creaked under him as the weight shifted. His legs were stiff. The kind of sore that made his knees feel older than the rest of his body.
He didn't look back.
Not at the gate.
Not at the cracked tile where Maika had been standing.
Not at the stain by the bench that looked way too close to blood.
He just started walking.
The plaza stretched wide in front of him. Empty, except for one tired-looking vending machine and an official pretending not to see anything. Same guy from earlier. Still chewing something, still scrolling something else.
Lucen didn't bother with a nod.
The guy didn't even blink.
'If I dropped dead right now, he'd probably ask if I had insurance before calling it in.'
Lucen shoved his hands into his pockets and walked past the edge of the drift lot. The street noise picked up again.
Real world stuff. Scooters zipping by. Some music playing through a cracked window up above. A dog barked twice. Sounded bored.
The moment he stepped off the pavement and onto city sidewalk, his system flicked back to life.
You have exited the drift zone.
Class concealment: active
[Level 3 Achieved]
Stat Points: +3
New Spell Slot Available
Would you like to open the design node?
He didn't answer it.
Didn't even glance at the full display.
'Later. You can wait.'
The sky above him was dull. That weird gray-blue that made everything feel like the wrong time of day. Too bright to be evening. Too late to be afternoon. The clouds looked heavy but not serious about it.
Lucen kept walking.
The street dipped slightly, cutting between an old repair shop and a cheap corner market. A group of kids sat outside the shop steps, tossing mana cores like dice. One of them caught sight of him, then went back to their game.
Nothing strange.
Just a guy walking home with fog dust on his sleeves.
His shoulder ached from dragging Rin. His neck felt tight. His boots still made that squish sound whenever he stepped too hard on the left one.
He turned a corner and started uphill.
There was a sign ahead for a noodle shop. Yellow light behind the window, steam on the glass.
He paused.
The system hovered again, flickering just slightly.
He ignored it.
Walked up to the door and pushed it open.
Warm air hit his face. It smelled like broth, pepper oil, and fried onion. Someone inside sneezed.
Lucen stepped into the noodle shop.
A low bell jingled overhead. The door thudded closed behind him, slow from the bent hinge.
Heat hit him first. Humid, spiced, filled with broth and garlic and overused fryer oil. Someone in the kitchen coughed hard into a sleeve, then banged a ladle on metal.
"Two dry and one soup!" a voice shouted from behind the partition. "Dry's ready first, don't screw it again!"
A teenage worker wheeled around with two bowls balanced on a tray. Her face was flushed and her sleeves soaked at the cuffs.
She almost bumped into Lucen. She blinked at him. Her eyes skimmed his fog-dusted coat. The dried blood stain at his wrist.
She didn't say anything. Just shifted left and squeezed by, the tray wobbling slightly.
Lucen moved toward the corner booth. Same spot he always used when he needed to think and not be seen thinking.
He dropped into the seat. The bench creaked under him.
At the next table, a kid with red-dyed hair and two earrings was explaining something too loudly to his friend.
"No, no, listen—if you channel the burst right before the cooldown finishes, it skips the lockout. You just gotta buffer the anchor with a pre-loop."
His friend chewed silently on a fried dumpling and looked deeply unimpressed.
Lucen pulled the laminated menu toward him. The plastic stuck to the table slightly.
He didn't read it.
Just held it so it looked like he was deciding.
The wall-mounted TV above the door flickered to a news anchor wearing too much foundation.
"—Ashline Guild representatives have yet to comment on the failed strike in Yelthorn. Local authorities are denying rumors that a rogue drift opened mid-operation. We remind viewers not to speculate."
Lucen made a small sound in his throat. Could've been a breath. Could've been a laugh.
The waitress showed up without a word. Mid-forties maybe. Hair tied up in a messy bun. A thin scar on her left cheek. She looked like she'd been here forever and stopped caring even longer ago.
"What'll it be?" she asked, pen already out.
Lucen said, "Dry. Medium heat."
She squinted at his face, then down at his hands.
"You one of those drift kids?"
Lucen blinked. "One of what now?"
"The ones who think you're gods just 'cause your name glows blue for ten seconds."
Lucen stared.
She scribbled on the pad.
"You don't talk enough to be one. You want as well egg?"
"…Yeah."
She walked off without another word.
A chair scraped on the tile.
'Weirdos.'
Lucen's eyes shifted up.
Someone slid into the booth across from him. Calm. No noise. Like he belonged there.
Lucen raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember inviting anyone."
The guy had that ex-guild look. Jacket too clean, boots too worn, expression too casual to be random.
He smiled.
"Don't worry. I'm not here to sell you crypto."
Lucen blinked. "That's somehow more suspicious."
The guy leaned an elbow on the table. "Just passing through. Saw you walk out of the drift lot like you were allergic to applause. That was you, right?"
'If you saw me walk out then why ask?'
Lucen didn't answer.
The man smiled again. A little slower this time.
"I'm Gen."
Lucen glanced down. "Of course you are."
"I scout for independent contracts. Not with a guild or the city. Just interested in you."
Lucen didn't respond.
Behind them, the kid with the earrings dropped his dumpling and swore under his breath. It bounced once and landed on the floor. His friend kicked it under the table without a word.
Gen reached forward and tapped the salt shaker once with his finger.
"Foggy drift with a partial lockdown. No core breach at all. You guys lost one team member. No official guild signatures were on the file. That sound about right?"
Lucen tilted his head. "What's your point?"
"You cast, you're a mage." Gen said. "But the field didn't respond. Am I right?"
Lucen's stomach tightened.
Gen's voice stayed casual. "That's not normal. Not for a first-year rookie. Not for anyone who hasn't paid a lot of money to a very illegal engineer."
Lucen picked up his chopsticks and spun them once between his fingers.
Gen kept his eyes steady. Not smiling now. Not tense either.
Just… watching.
The waitress returned and slapped down Lucen's bowl. "Dry. Egg on the side. Water's up front."
She didn't even glance at Gen.
He stood.
"No pressure," he said. "Just letting you know people noticed."
Lucen didn't look up.
Gen tapped the table once more. Then walked away, slow. Steady. No cloak and vanish. Just a guy who said what he came to say and left.
The TV was running a new story.
"…another unlicensed awakening was caught on surveillance casting in the middle of Kyser Market. Officials believe they may be using a scrambled interface—potentially stolen tech. If you see someone acting strange near a rift, please report them to…"
Lucen muttered, "That's not vague at all."
He picked up the chopsticks.
Took a bite.
Salt, pepper oil, egg yolk, noodles. Real food.
He sat there chewing while the steam fogged the window beside him.
And for once, the system didn't say a damn thing.