Blackmoor had always been a city built on secrets, and Korin had always been good at finding them. Better still, he knew how to use them. The midday sun barely reached the narrow alleyways that wound through the merchant district, where the smell of fresh bread mingled with the acrid bite of metalwork and the sweet perfume of ripe fruits.

Korin moved through the crowd with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly how much space he needed. A slight tilt of his shoulder here, a quick step there, and he flowed between people like water. The bustling market was alive with chatter, bartering, and laughter, but he barely heard it. His mind was elsewhere, already thinking of the meeting to come.

There was an old man near the spice merchant he liked. Korin always made a point to visit him when he could, if only to smell the heady mix of saffron, cumin, and crushed coriander. The scent reminded him of home—of better times, or at least simpler ones. He paused just long enough to swipe a handful of candied nuts from a stall, flicking a silver coin in the vendor’s direction without bothering to slow his pace.

The nuts were sweet, but there was a bitterness to the aftertaste. Fitting.

He took the long way, as usual, weaving through the city’s maze of alleys. It wasn’t about caution—he wasn’t worried about being followed—it was about control. He liked having the city’s layout imprinted in his mind. He liked the feeling of knowing exactly where he was going when others thought they were lost.

A few minutes later, he found the door. Old wood, warped and weathered, with rusted hinges that groaned under the weight of years. The alley itself was dimly lit by a lantern that seemed to flicker in time with the uneven breathing of the city.

Perfect.

He slipped inside without knocking. The room smelled like mildew and regret, but Korin barely noticed. His attention was already on the man seated at the far table, a figure draped in shadow and cloaked in arrogance.

Riko.

Short, wiry, with a patchy beard and too much confidence for someone who had barely enough talent to get by. Korin liked him, in the same way he liked a good con—predictable, with just enough room for surprises.

"Korin," Riko said, not bothering to rise. His voice rasped like it had crawled up from the gutter. "Heard you’ve been busy. Stirring up trouble, as usual."

Korin slid into the chair across from him, leaned back, and propped his boots up on the edge of the table. "I like to keep things lively."

"Lively?" Riko snorted. "You call making half the city’s underworld nervous 'lively'? I’d call that reckless."

Korin plucked a candied nut from his pocket, tossing it in his mouth with a smirk. "If people are nervous, it means they’re paying attention. And if they’re paying attention, well... that’s half the fun, isn’t it?"

Riko leaned forward, his beady eyes narrowing. "You think this is fun? Word is, you walked away from that auction with more than a good time. People are asking questions. Dangerous people."

"Questions," Korin mused, rolling the word around like it had flavor. "It’s a shame you didn’t bring any better ones to the table today. I was expecting more."

Riko’s mouth twitched, the ghost of a sneer. "Careful, Korin. I’m trying to do you a favor here."

"A favor?" Korin’s eyebrows shot up, feigning surprise. "Well, now I’m really curious. What kind of favor are we talking about, Riko? The kind where you ask me to hand over what I have, and I politely decline? Or the kind where you threaten me, and I pretend to care?"

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Riko leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his unkempt hair. "Look, I’m just the messenger. You know how it is. The people I’m talking about… they aren’t like us. They don’t play by our rules. They’re powerful. More than you can handle, trust me."

Korin grinned. "Riko, Riko, Riko." He shook his head, eyes gleaming. "You’ve known me for how long now? Do I look like someone who takes kindly to being handled?"

Riko’s smile faltered. "You don’t get it. This isn’t some petty guild dispute. They want what you have, and they’re willing to pay big for it."

"And you’re the one who gets to play intermediary?" Korin’s voice was light, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "Seems a little beneath you, doesn’t it? Running errands for people you’re clearly afraid of?"

Riko scowled, but his hands twitched slightly, betraying the nerves he tried so hard to hide. "You think I’m afraid? You should be, Korin. You’ve been lucky so far, but luck runs out. You’ve made a lot of noise, and noise attracts attention. Bad attention."

Korin sighed theatrically, dropping his feet from the table and leaning forward. "Riko, let me break this down for you. I don’t do ‘bad attention.’ I do opportunity. And right now, I’m sitting on something that’s got everyone all worked up. So, forgive me if I’m not particularly interested in your vague threats."

Riko's eyes flashed. "You really think you’re untouchable, don’t you?"

"No," Korin said with a slow smile, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I know I am."

The tension between them was palpable now, thick as the damp air in the room. Korin leaned back again, stretching lazily, as if completely unbothered by the weight of Riko’s gaze. He wanted Riko to feel the imbalance of power, to see how little Korin cared about his threats.

"Let’s say, hypothetically," Korin began, his tone light, "I did walk away from the auction with something special. Why exactly would I want to hand it over to the highest bidder when I can play the game myself?"

Riko’s mouth twitched. "Because the people I’m talking about don’t lose."

Korin’s grin widened. "That’s the thing about people who think they never lose. It makes it that much more fun when they do."

For a moment, Riko didn’t respond. His jaw clenched, and Korin could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. He was weighing his options, trying to figure out if it was worth pushing any harder. But Korin had seen this dance before. Riko wouldn’t make a move without backup—he wasn’t that bold.

Finally, Riko let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. "You always were a cocky bastard."

Korin tipped an imaginary hat. "And don’t you forget it."

Riko stood, brushing off his coat. "Just… watch your back, Korin. You might think you’re untouchable, but everyone’s got limits."

"Noted," Korin said cheerfully. "But I’d be more worried about your own limits, Riko. Wouldn’t want to get caught between me and whoever’s pulling your strings."

Riko’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he turned toward the door. "You think you know everything. You think you’ve got this all figured out. But you’ve made enemies. Powerful ones. And when they come for you, all the charm and swagger in the world won’t save you."

Korin shrugged, unbothered. "Maybe. But until that day comes, I’ll keep enjoying myself. See you around, Riko."

Riko hesitated, just for a second, before disappearing through the door. Korin watched him go, the grin never leaving his face.

Once the door creaked shut, Korin allowed himself a moment to reflect. Riko had done his job well enough. He’d confirmed what Korin had already suspected—there were bigger players in the game now, and they were gunning for him.

Good.

Korin stood, stretching his arms above his head as he prepared to leave. The streets of Blackmoor were calling, and Korin always felt more alive out there, among the chaos and the shadows. He could feel the thrill of it already, the excitement buzzing beneath his skin.

If there were powerful forces moving in the city, that meant there were opportunities. And opportunities meant leverage.

Korin thrived on leverage.

He slipped out into the alley, blending effortlessly into the throng of people moving through the market. The sun had dipped lower now, casting long shadows over the stalls. The scent of roasting meat wafted through the air, mixing with the sharp tang of sea salt from the nearby docks.

His mind raced, already planning his next steps. Thorn was still a wildcard, but Riko’s little visit had given Korin a clearer picture. There was something bigger at play, something that had the whole city on edge. And whatever it was, Korin intended to be in the center of it.

As he disappeared into the crowd, a slow, satisfied smile crept across his face. Let them come. Let them all come.

Because at the end of the day, Korin always played to win.