Life is Chaos. Shin knew that.

Any action, no matter how carefully considered or seemingly innocuous, is entirely capable of spiraling out of control in a spiral of unintended consequence. An example: several months ago, a Player happened to say the words ‘Status Screen’ within earshot of a low level trash mob. And as a direct result, that same one-time nothing now stood in the foyer of his own quarters, at the top of his own tower, at the center of his own city, at the heart of his own Side.

Another direct result was that mob’s deep understanding of precisely how flimsy the bridge he’d walked to his present had been, and how there was no guarantee that his next step towards the future would find solid ground. Two simple words had produced the hope of an entire race, and also the anxiety of a single man. Probably a fair trade, but Shin couldn’t help begrudging it from time to time.

This was fine, though; Shin was fine. In a few moments he’d have to take another giant step forward, and he couldn’t know whether it was a step towards his future or a plunge into oblivion until there was no turning back. He could plan, and plot, and scheme, and make all the best decisions he could, but once it was committed the matter was out of his hands. He simply had to trust that he’d stepped in the right direction, or that his fall wouldn’t be from a lethal height.

Well Shin might not have been able to control Chaos, but he could control the flower arrangements in this room. He took a step back from his handiwork, nodding to himself in a kind of grim satisfaction. There. No two flowers of the same color touched anymore. Shin had planned that, and it had happened. He controlled these flowers, and now he could repeat that success elsewhere.

Hm.

It was possible the kobold was going insane.

This current scheme was without question the single most reckless thing he’d ever done, and as a result his nerves were frayed to hell. If this worked, he was going to take the fishing trip he’d dreamed of since the moment he first spied Shinki Itten’s newly formed coastline. And if it didn’t, he’d probably be obliterated.

Either way, it would be a vacation.

Alright, Shin’s thoughts were as ordered as he could manage. No more wasting time. “Could you send him in, please?” Shin remarked to Mimasu as he settled down on one of the pillows arranged around the room’s orange sitting table, “This shouldn’t take very long.”

The scribe nodded. “Certainly! Will you need me to take notes?”

“No, thank you.”

Mimi squirmed. “Can I take them anyway?”

"No."

“Well, can I just stay to observe, then?”

“No.”

“Can I hide behind the screen connecting the rooms and take notes anyway?”

“You will either way,” Shin airly retorted as he carefully picked up a simple ceramic kettle and poured steaming hot water over his cup of dried herbs and tea, “So I’m going to say ‘yes’ in an attempt to preserve a touch of dignity.”

The chipper kobold bowed smartly at that, slipping out of the room as Shin lifted his cup to his nose for a deep inhale. The thin tea that kobolds apparently preferred tasted like little more than water, but had a deeply complex bouquet that was endlessly refreshing to someone with the senses to appreciate it. Hmm. Deeply herbaceous, almost vegetal. And yet a touch of sweetness; honeycomb perhaps? And something botanical he didn’t recognize; assuming he didn’t get obliterated, Shin was going to have a few questions for his teamonger.

The kobolds allowed the heady scent to swirl through his nostrils and into his bones, suffusing himself with a sort of readied relaxation. He clearly heard the door sliding open again, as well as Mimasu’s introduction, but he simply took another slow sniff from his cup in reply. It wasn’t until his guest lowered himself down to the cushion across from Shin that he set the shallow bowl down, folding his hands in his lap and offering the other man a bow of his head. “Galwenlas. Welcome.”

The Grand Elf returned the gesture, looking every inch the refined diplomat he purported to be. “Lord Shin. Allow me to say, your city is a wonder and your people are a delight. Truly, I have never felt more at home since leaving my own home.”

“How kind of you,” Shin replied, lifting the kettle to fill the Player’s cup. “It is Shinki Itten that is fortunate to have played humble host to such a distinguished guest.”

Galwenlas held his reply long enough to take a polite sniff of his tea, honoring kobold customs as effortlessly as if he’d been born to them. “What an invigorating blend. The entire day has been washed from my shoulders.”

“Mm.” Shin set the kettle back down before lacing his fingers thoughtfully around his own cup. “Do you think so? Chef Yasmar had asked for a tea to serve as a palate cleanser between courses, and I’d been considering recommending this very selection.”

“Yasmar!” The Grand Elf’s eyes gleamed intently. “I’d heard rumors, but...so it’s true he’s opening a restaurant here? Gods, I have always wanted to eat at one of his places!”

Shin tapped the side of his cup, tilting his head slightly to one side. “My apologies for the correction, but I don’t believe Chef Yasmar is a man? I’m quite certain the Chef prefers ‘they’.”

A brief probing look flashed across Galwenlas’s eyes before he pressed his hand to his chest. “Ah, how embarrassing! Thank you for correcting me; I would be absolutely aghast if I'd inadvertently kept misgendering the Chef!”

Uh-huh. Shin knew what that look had been. Galwenlas was tailoring his opinions to his audience. The Schemer had no doubt that if he had been replaced with JellyDonut in this conversation, the Grand Elf’s reply would have been something scornfully flippant about Yasmar’s preferences. Galwenlas could read a room, and hide behind a mask of good citizenship when in polite company. But Shin could tell: he was itching for any opportunity to let that mask slip.

Time to take the first step forward.

“That’s good, because I’d thought you might want to attend the opening in a few days.” Shin lifted his cup, peering coyly over its rim at his guest. “Perhaps with Lady Bittercup as your escort?”

Galwenlas’s face lit up. “Oh! What a splendid idea!”

“I thought so, too!” Shin lifted his eyebrows slightly, his ears perking forward. “It would be a fine farewell from Shinki Itten for the both of you, wouldn’t it?”

The Player undoubtedly thought the twitch that forced his courteous smile to not explode in a drooling grin was subtle. “Farewell? The both of us? You mean–”

“Yes, I do think it’s time we finally discuss this business.” Shin shifted up straighter, affecting a more professional demeanor. “Let’s lay out the matter at hand, shall we? You want to take Lady Bittercup with you when you leave this village.”

“Yes. Well, rather,” Galwenlas carefully flipped a lock of his golden hair over his shoulder, “I believe that is what she wants. Don’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Shin abruptly leaned forward, his eyes very serious. “Let me say this, though: I will not sell her to you. I can’t, and I won’t. Selling people goes against the most basic laws of our world.”

The Player quickly nodded, raising his hands defensively. “Oh yes, absolutely! No one is questioning that; Selling someone is Slavery, and that is expressly forbidden by the Kingdoms of Magica Terms and Conditions. Absolutely not, never.”

Okay, next step forward. “Though on that note, I did have a question about something.” Shin thoughtfully ran his finger around the rim of his cup, giving Galwenlas a questioning look. “I’ve heard some troubling rumors about what goes on at Quercus’s Repasts, and–”

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“Ah, um, not by me though!” Galwenlas interjected, “All I ever did at any Repast was enjoy a lovely evening of food and conversation, and I…” The Player trailed off as he noticed Shin’s expression, thoughtfully sucking on his teeth as he realized that the kobold didn’t seem to care about what he may or may not or absolutely did do at any given Repast. “...What was your question?”

“Well, it’s just that King Glandem accepted Royal Coins for entry to Repasts. Right?” When Galwenlas cautiously nodded, Shin continued on. “Shouldn’t that have gotten him into trouble? From what I’ve heard, Players paid him to be able to commit acts even worse than slavery.”

The Grand Elf leaned forward, a sly cast to his eyes. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. No one ever paid Glandem for anything besides dinner.” He tapped the side of his nose with a wink. “Officially.”

Shin raised his eyebrows again. “Officially?”

Galwenlas’s conspiratorial grin spread as he leaned an elbow onto the sitting table. “Of course! Mundi can’t have people using premium currency bought directly from them for prostitution and, ahem,”–he cleared his throat, a bit of anticipatory sweat forming on his brow–”Other lurid acts. But it’s possible that someone who lacked our unimpeachable morals might create a sort of…work around.”

“Huh.” Shin took another long sniff from his cup, letting Galwenlas stew in rising juices before continuing on. “Such as?”

“Welll~,” Galwenlas idly picked at a fingernail, acting as if he was pulling an example out of thin air. “Say I was to buy a ticket to a Repast, and I opted for the more expensive option that comes with,”–he made giant quotes in the air with his fingers–”’Double Dessert’. Paragons of virtue such as us would only suspect two bowls of sorbet, but some crass scoundrel might assume a coded promise hidden in those two innocent words.”

“I see…” Shin let his smile play at the corner of his lips. “Double Dessert, huh? Did you…?”

The Player chortled, a lascivious noise quite at odds with his otherwise refined bearing. “Oh no. Not me. I’m more of a Triple Dessert type of guy.”

“Good man.”

Take another step forward.

Shin pushed his cup away, affecting a regretful sigh. “Well, that’s an interesting thought, but it’s certainly not the sort of thing we do here. I absolutely cannot let you take Lady Bittercup away in exchange for some amount of Royal Coins.”

Galwenlas sucked on his teeth for a moment longer, working himself up to a decision. “Right. Of course. You certainly couldn’t do that for One Royal Coin.”

“Absolutely not.” Shin shook his head decisively. “That’s not even close to something I’d do.”

“Right, right.” The Player drummed his fingers across the table. “And you definitely wouldn’t do it for Two Royal Coins either.”

“Not a chance.”

“Mmph.” Chewing hard on his lip, the Grand Elf seemed to work his way through some intense mental calculations before speaking again. “...Someone might be tempted to even offer Three Royal Coins, but that would obviously be just as impossible. It would be as far as they could go, and also impossible.”

“You see? We get each other.” Shin beamed at Galwenlas. “That is the exact amount of Royal Coins I would never sell Lady Bittercup for.”

The Player was so giddy he could barely keep himself from falling off of his cushion. “Well on a totally unrelated matter, I would like to purchase Three Royal Coins worth of–”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Shin raised a hand, cutting off the eager elf. “We haven’t gotten our Favor Store set up yet. Anything I could sell you comes directly from the System, and is monitored directly by the System.”

“Oh. Right. Blah.” Galwenlas fidgeted in annoyance. “Well, when will you get your own Store set up? I’d really prefer any purchase I made to be directly between us, you know? Mundi doesn’t need anything more than their percentage cut, right?”

“I agree absolutely. As to when…” The kobold sighed again. “Who knows? The Council is so slow to move, at times. It might be days, weeks. Months even!” Shin allowed that to sink in before continuing on, his voice taking a meaningful cadence. “I have access to the empty Storefront, of course. I suppose I could, I don’t know, open it up late at night when everyone is asleep, create a blank entry that costs Three Royal Coins, sell it to you, then immediately afterwards delete the entry before anyone else notices it.” Shin stared pointedly at Galwenlas as he slowly digested that dump of information. “But why would I do that? I wouldn’t.”

Galwenlas blinked, then fumbled a pen out of his pocket and began to scrawl something down on a slip of paper. “Of course you wouldn’t. That would be a pointless thing to do tonight, if at all possible.”

Shin stared down at the numbers the Player was marking down, a feeling of absolute duty seizing his brain and heart in an iron grip as their purpose became clear. Okay. Shit. This was exactly how Bittercup described the awful geas that came with a Payment Code. Shin knew with every inch of his being that if he took custody of this number, and used it for a purpose beyond the one its owner intended? That would be the end of him.

Take the last step forward. “What’s that?” Shin started, barely managing to keep the crack out of his voice. “That isn’t a credit card number, is it?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Galwenlas winked as he jotted down a date. “Why would I be giving you my credit card number?”

“I don’t know why. Because I absolutely said I wouldn’t make that sale, and I have no intention of going back on my word and doing so tonight.”

“Good! I don’t want you to! And besides, I’m not giving you my credit card number!” The Player winked again before folding the paper in half and extending it towards Shin. “On a completely unrelated note, take this random sheet of paper I found!”

Shin’s every nerve screamed at him as he casually shrugged, reaching out to take the number from the eager Grand Elf. This won’t work, his body insisted, Go find more flowers than shouldn’t be touching and separate them! And yet all the same he plucked the paper from Galwenlas’s hand as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

And no one was more surprised than Shin to discover that the looming sense of dutiful dread that should have come with the number Galwenlas insisted was not a credit card number never came.

“Is that it, then?” Galwenlas was clutching the sides of the table so hard that it seemed possible the wood would crumble in his grip. “Can I take her?”

“You’ll have to be just a little more patient, but after I’ve spoken with her? Well.” Shin tapped the side of his nose. “You had best prepare yourself for Chef Yasmar’s opening. Because that night, I think you might officially graduate to being a Quadruple Dessert type of guy.”

“Fuck yes.” Galwenlas hissed in white-hot delight as he burst from the table, so enthralled by his own anticipation that he didn’t notice he’d knocked his cup to the ground. “This is so fucking awesome; my own Repast Girl. All those other fuckers are gonna shit when they find out I–”

He was still ranting to himself as he left the room, completely deaf to Shin’s farewell. Not that Shin was in much of a better state; his own heart was beating furiously in his ears as he rose from the table to clean Galwenlas’s spill, forcing himself to focus on the cooling puddle as he manually reordered his thoughts. Okay. Alright. That was–

“That was so weird!”

Shin glanced up as the screen to the sleeping quarters slid open and Mimasu burst out, a desperate need for clarification inked across his face. “What were you guys talking about?” The scribe demanded, attempting to force a stern expression with his pleasant features and utterly failing. “I didn’t get it at all! My notes are so lacking in context! And what’s this?” He snatched up the sheet of paper, his ears flattening as he scanned the numbers. “This looks like a cre–”

“It’s not!” Shin quickly insisted, snatching the paper back from Mimasu. He held his breath for a terrible moment, then released it in relief when no shackles of steel responsibility clasped onto him. “This is not one of those, Mimi. Galwenlas was very clear about that, wasn’t he? Do you understand?”

The scribe mulled that over. “I…guess so? Well, I mean, no not at all. But you seem to understand? So I guess that’s something!”

That was fine, Mimi didn’t need to understand. Because Shin knew precisely what that little scrap of paper was. It was the final proof for perhaps the Biggest thought he’d ever had. The System was rigged against Shin and people like him, and rigged in favor of the Players. Always had been, always would be. But whoever made the System, whoever ran it? They’d left cracks. Openings. And he didn’t think they even knew it.

Maybe they didn’t understand what they’d built. Maybe they didn’t actually build it at all. Maybe they just didn’t care. Shin was going to find out someday, but for right now? It was enough to know that he didn’t have to take steps into the dark anymore.

He could take them directly onto the heads of Players.