I tried to ignore it, but with each stride, my heart hammered against my ribcage, shouting that something was wrong. Every one of its pounds rang loud in my ears, drawing my attention.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I came to a halt underneath the orange glim streaming from the pole above and pulled the box of medicine from my inner pocket. Clarinadryl, as stated on the label. The colors, shape, and emblem were identical to those I saw as a porter from the 4th District, on the internet, at the pharmacy, and even at some of the stalls I've had the misfortune of passing by.

Unable to shake off the dreadful sensation I had, I decided to do what I should have done the instant I got my hands on the clarinadryl and opened the package. The tablets themselves were distinct. Completely different from what I've seen before.

Without even comprehending it, the package fell from my half-clenched palm.

"This has to be a mistake," I assured myself.

I took out my phone and began tapping, my fingers moving with a dexterity I never thought I'd possess. I kept looking, zooming in and out of each picture on every website I could find.

Nothing, absolutely nothing I discovered resembled the ones besides my foot.

I bit my lower lip but couldn't register the pain. It was numbing, like I was trying to harm myself within a dream. I looked around from left to right, only to find myself surrounded by strangers going by, unable to focus on anything in particular. The ruffling sound of the Underworld faded, drowned out by an incessant ring in my head, which only grew louder and louder.

"He—" I said, gulping down the rest of the sentence.

A desolate stall appeared in sight. I located it without any second thoughts. The previous dull light had vanished. It was just dark. Then, when the lights flickered, a faint whiteness stained my surroundings, showing the elder.

He stood down on a rocking chair and continued to play with the sheathed dagger, a bright smile on his wrinkled face as if he had just discovered a new toy. The merchant brought it out, displaying its cerulean inscriptions, his eyes glittering with a youth that was simply not possible for someone his age.

I held my breath and crept up behind him. The sound of my applause was enough to make the elder shudder. When he turned around, his eyes almost jumped out of their sockets. Even his chair thumped to the ground.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"M-my boy," he mumbled, panting for air through his missing teeth. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"What am I doing?" I growled, my gaze locked on the ground's sheath and dagger. My unexpected salutation must have shocked him enough to let them go. "Did you think I didn't know what that was?"

"I'm not sure what you're referring to," he stammered back.

"That dagger's an artifact," I explained as the elder balanced himself on the table behind me. "Extremely valuable."

"I didn't—"

I knelt on the ground and picked up the dagger by its handle. "You didn't know what?" I yelled, my knuckles whitening around the weapon as I straightened my posture. "That you'd make me bear the entire risk? That if anything went wrong with your scheme, I'd die?!"

Violence was not an option for him. But deception? That was right up his alley.

It was obvious that whoever managed to obtain the dagger would become a possible target. That's why he never went to grab it himself.

"N-no," the merchant tried to soothe my wrath, his voice wavering as he glanced at the object in my grasp. That, however, was a fabrication of his imagination. I was very calm. "I didn't intend to..."

"Imagine this, old man. I want you to visualize it well in your head," I said, towering above him. "What would happen if what you did were to get out? Maybe I should tell just Jacob the whole truth..."

If this trader is prepared to lie to obtain what he wants, selling a defective operator was a possibility as well.

"P-please," he pleaded, clutching the robe around his chest.

"And guess what, old bastard," I snarled. "As long as you provided me the real thing, I would've pretended I never knew what you did."

It's not like I didn't anticipate getting into some trouble. Even before I entered the Underworld, I witnessed Ethan die directly in front of my eyes. I knew I might be in the same position if I didn't pay enough attention.

Even when my life was jeopardized as a result of him, I would have still acted as though I never knew a thing if he simply gave me that accursed clarinadryl. That much was my due, and I had to collect it.

The elder merchant squeezed, "H-help."

"But no! You had to screw me over as well! You weren't content with simply obtaining the artifact; you also had to hinder my efforts!"

Although I never said it aloud, its components were abnormally light. After a few uses, that bracelet's bound to malfunction, and it may even explode in the caster's face. What made matters worse was that you couldn't even extract a spell's code directly from the SCO without the proper equipment, which this old man probably knew Jacob didn't possess. A heinous but brilliant con.

"You're not going to get away with this," I said quietly as he drew in a deep breath, his eyes wide open in shock.

Then he sprawled across the table.

Some of the items tumbled over and fell to the ground. Even after that, his body continued to convulse. I stood there, lips half-opened, poised to spout another profanity or two. One more second, and I took a tentative step forward as something ominous dawned on me.

"H-hey," I said as I lifted my hand slightly, terror coursing through me.

There was no answer.