Ethan Ryder worked at the bar Raven's Den, a dimly lit establishment tucked away in a seedy city corner. His face was clean-shaven, his features plain and unassuming—just the appearance that allowed him to blend in with normal folks. The faint clink of glassware and the low hum of conversation formed the backdrop as he poured a frothy beer into a waiting mug, his mind wandering to the life he now led.

For a few years now, Ethan had straddled two worlds. By all appearances, he was just a bartender—a man serving drinks and listening to the occasional drunken rant. But to a select few, he was something far more significant: the Contractor.

People from all walks of life sought him out, not for cocktails, but for connections. Ethan was the man who could assemble the right people for the dirtiest jobs—criminals, bounty hunters, Nen users, and anyone else capable of getting things done. The work was high-stakes and paid well because his clients rarely cared about costs. Yet, there was always a risk, a silent understanding that success came with no guarantees of survival.

Beneath his quiet demeanor and the smoky barroom air lay secrets that only a handful of people suspected. Ethan hailed from the Khakin Empire, a place known for its ruthless politics and deep intrigue. His past was a closed book, its pages filled with stories of connections and events that had shaped him into someone formidable, even dangerous.

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Cade raised the steaming cup of coffee to his lips, the warmth cutting through the cool dimness of the bar. He nodded toward the waiter, who glanced back at him, momentarily perplexed. Cade’s black sunglasses, worn indoors, drew a flicker of curiosity. The waiter hesitated but ultimately chose silence, returning to his duties.

The Raven’s Den Bar buzzed faintly with subdued conversations and the clinking of glasses. Cade sat at a corner table, his posture relaxed but his mind far from it. His fingers tapped on the table while his sharp gaze rested on the bartender. The man was meticulously polishing glasses behind the counter, his movements fluid and practiced.

Cade’s thoughts churned as he sipped his coffee.

'It’s been a week since I began experimenting with bio-serums. I’ve tested the genes of almost every subtle creature in the zoo. Nothing that would give me away or produce glaring mutations. The results have been… extraordinary.'

His enhanced eyesight brought every detail into stark clarity. The bartender’s skin, faintly weathered by time, was etched with fine lines invisible to most. Cade could distinguish individual pores and the almost imperceptible sheen of sweat on his brow. 'Falcon’s eyes', he mused. 'This level of precision has its perks. And this bartender… He’s no ordinary man. His aura is tightly controlled. My stare should’ve made his skin crawl, yet he hasn’t even blinked. He knows I’m watching him, and he’s still perfectly composed. Impressive.'

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The quiet rhythm of the bar was disrupted when another figure entered Cade’s field of vision. A man approached the counter, his presence sharp and commanding. A long scar ran down his cheek, a memento of past violence that had healed but left its mark. His voice, though low, carried urgency as he leaned in toward the bartender.

Cade adjusted his focus, his enhanced vision honing in on the conversation. The bar’s ambient noise drowned out the exchange for others, but Cade didn’t need sound. Though no expert in lip-reading, he managed to decipher fragments of their dialogue.

“...bad news, boss,” the scarred man said, his expression strained. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead under the faint light. “Another one of our team members is gone. Taken out by the target. The others want to leave the job unless the employer raises the price to half a billion at minimum. Two hundred million isn’t worth dying for.”

For the briefest moment, the bartender’s calm mask slipped. Cade noticed the slight hardening of his jaw, the tension flashing through his features. The glass in his hand cracked under the pressure of his grip, though his hand remained unscathed. He placed the broken glass aside with deliberate care before dismissing the scarred man with a curt order to leave.

'Trouble brewing', Cade thought. 'The employer’s stubbornness, the rising body count… And judging by the way he crushed that glass, he’s close to snapping.'

Cade rose from his seat as soon as the other man exited the bar. Sliding a neatly folded bill beneath the rim of his coffee mug, he made his way toward the bartender. His steps were deliberate, his posture relaxed, yet every movement carried a quiet resolve.

“I’ll take the job,” Cade announced, his tone calm and unhurried as he addressed the bartender.

The bartender glanced up from the pristine glass he had been polishing. His expression remained neutral, unreadable, though Cade, with his extraordinary eyesight, noted the subtle twitch at the corner of the bartender’s mouth. It was a fleeting crack in the stoic mask, a hint of surprise.

“And what job might that be boy?” the bartender asked, his voice steady but laced with skepticism.

Cade’s gaze didn’t waver. “Don’t play the ignorance card, bartender. The job for two hundred million Jenny. I’ll do it,” he stated firmly.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded Cade more closely. This time, Cade could sense the deliberate shift in Ethan’s focus—an unmistakable application of Gyo to inspect him further. Cade held his ground, letting the scrutiny pass over him like a breeze.

“So, you can use Nen,” Ethan said finally, his tone dismissive. “Big deal. This job isn’t for you. You’re too young. Go home before you bite off more than you can chew.”

Cade leaned slightly forward, his confidence unwavering. “How about a demonstration, Mr. Ethan?” he proposed. “If I can’t convince you of my abilities, I’ll walk away, no complaints. But if I do, you’ll have no reason to turn me down. Deal?”

Without waiting for an answer, Cade reached up and slid off his sunglasses. His eyes, with their golden-brown irises and pupils as dark as the void, gleamed under the dim light. The reaction was immediate—Ethan’s eyes widened, though only for a split second before his stoic mask snapped back into place.

Placing the polished glass gently onto the counter, Ethan extended his hand. “Ethan Ryeder,” he said “Call me Ethan. And you are?”

Cade clasped Ethan’s hand in a firm grip. “Just Cade,” he replied simply.