Ryan woke up with a pounding headache, which in the last few months had become something of a habit; a bad one if he was being honest. The dull throb behind his eyes was a constant reminder of his nightly excesses. A self-destructive pattern he couldn't seem to break.

Rolling to the side of his rickety bed, he let out a groan. The small movement caused an explosion to go off in his skull, sending shockwaves of pain through his entire body. His entire being protested being roused from the sleep it so dearly needed, every muscle and nerve crying out for just a few more hours of blissful unconsciousness.

Of course, as a merchant in the Eternal realm, he had to hustle and find a way to eat, clothe himself, and pay for rent. Turns out, even living as a pauper wasn't cheap. The irony wasn't lost on Ryan - even being a pauper cost money in this godforsaken place.

Bracing himself for the pain about to come with getting off the bed, he swung his legs over the edge and pushed himself up. The world swam before his eyes, and he had to grip the bedpost to keep from toppling over.

"Veron's beard, I'm never doing that again," Ryan cursed, his voice rough and gravelly.

He'd definitely be doing that again, but for now, he better get ready for work. What was it Ryan was? A merchant, although that might be a stretch as he wasn't really successful, or even mildly successful. Most people would've closed up shop and, well, found something else to do or moved to another town. But Ryan wasn't other people. He was too stubborn, too proud, or maybe just too stupid to give up on his dream of becoming a successful merchant.

He'd grown up in Denair, a town in the Eternal realm. His parents? Never met them, didn't want to, either. He was raised in the orphanage. A cold and unforgiving place that had shaped him into the cynical, hard-drinking failure he was today. They tossed him out as soon as he got his profession and class, which were Merchant and Alchemist, respectively. Not that the latter did him much good - he could barely brew a decent health potion, let alone any of the more complex concoctions that might actually turn a profit.

Anyway, as for the banging headache currently destroying him right now, it would've sent anyone else to their deaths. But Ryan had gotten used to drinking and now had a tolerance of sorts. So, it was a little easier for him than most to take his bath, complete his morning routine, and then have a simple meal of plain bread at the tavern of the inn he was currently rooming at: The Messy Inn.

The name was apt. The place was a dive, even by Denair's low standards. But it was cheap, and the owner didn't ask questions when Ryan stumbled in at all hours, reeking of cheap ale and failure.

The booze here was expensive –as it was a place frequented by adventurers - so Ryan had to go cheap when it came to his food options. That way, he could have coins for ale later in the day. It was a vicious cycle - drink to forget his troubles, wake up with more troubles, repeat.

You're probably wondering…adventurers? Well, Ryan wasn't an "adventurer" so to speak; he was one of those placed within the Eternal realm to make life easier for them. A Static, if you will, though he hated that term. It made him feel less real, less important. But then again, maybe that's exactly what he was.

At this point, Ryan didn't really give a flying fuck what the adventurers' lives were like. He just wanted to get some food into his stomach; his body was rumbling and begging him to get something to eat, and that was what he did.

He got his usual of leftover bread from the previous day and some leftover stew. In fact, the barkeep had his order down so well that there was always pre-heated stew and stale bread waiting for him anytime he woke up from his benders. It was a sad testament to how predictable his life had become.

So he sat and ate his food. The bread tasted like shit and the stew had lost its freshness, but it was what he could afford so that he could get some ale later. Besides, it also filled him up, so a win-win situation. Or at least, that's what he told himself to feel better about his miserable existence.

He idly pulled up his stat screen with a thought, a feature of this world that never ceased to amaze him, even after all these years.

[ Name: Ryan Lionheart.

Profession: Merchant.

Class: Alchemist (apprentice).

Coin: 0 gold, 70 silvers.

Debt : Null.]

Nothing special, same thing yesterday, the week before that, the month before that. Nothing really ever improved.

Breakfast took little time to scarf down. So within moments he was done with the food, it was time for the dreaded part of his day: the walk of shame.

Nodding to the barkeep, he got out of his slump and walked out of The Messy Inn to take his normal route towards the Eastern gate, where he'd managed to snag a stall for what seemed like a good price at the time, but turned out to be one of the stupidest decisions he'd ever made.

The streets of Denair were already bustling with activity. Adventurers and denizens alike hurried about their business, the air filled with the sounds of haggling, the clang of smiths at work, and the occasional shout of a town crier announcing the latest news or quest. Ryan trudged through it all, his head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone who might recognize him.

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The shop was located at one of the town's four exits (or entrances, depending on which side you were approaching from), but most of the traffic came from the northern and western gates. The Eastern and southern gates were mostly used as exits, so it came as a shock to a young Ryan when he managed to rent a shop with more than half of his life savings, and that investment hadn't paid itself off even after a year. Most of the potential customers avoided him like a plague anytime they got a good look at his shop, how sketchy it was, and how tattered he looked.

Even Ryan had to agree that he seemed a little creepy, but what about that saying not to judge people by their clothes? Or was it by their faces? He was too hung over and tired to even get the saying right, moreso as the walk to his stall seemed to take a million years. He shared a few nods and waves with other merchants around, the movements sending fresh waves of pain into his head again.

Finally, he made it to his stall. He got in and sat on the makeshift chair, his stall a mess of empty potion bottles and haphazardly arranged potions. Most of his stock was temporary boost potions, but there were three items he had of value: skill tablets gifted to him by the matron of the orphanage when they tossed him out. Initially four, but he sold one to the Looter's Heaven for some startup capital, which he'd blown on a poorly placed stall.

If you're wondering what the Looter's Heaven is, you're probably not the only one. The Looter's Heaven was one of the most popular and competitive store fronts—if you could even call them that—in the Eternal Realm. Basically, it was a franchise, and for the smarter adventurers, a place to safely store money for future use. This way, they avoided the ‘you lose everything after you're killed’ rule. In reality, it was a loophole that changed the flow of markets for the other merchants. The individual merchants like him couldn't open multiple shops in different locations and man them. He couldn’t compete, because who else had that kind of money?

Their success brought about the downfall of many successful merchants, others choosing to integrate their stores into the franchise, some moving to places yet to be touched. Then there are the others like him, too unaccomplished to integrate, insufficient funds to move, and now in too deep to quit.

Ryan let out a loud sigh. He himself wanted to be the top supplier, the merchant dealing out the good stuff: grade A potions, artifacts, equipment… you name it. As it was, he barely had anything to offer. There wasn't even any equipment, potion, or other shit he needed.

Ryan got up on his feet, wincing as the movement sent another wave of pain through his head. He began to set up his stall, arranging the few potions he had left in what he hoped was an appealing display. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he watched other merchants confidently setting up their more abundant wares.

Just as he finished, he noticed a commotion near the gate. A group of adventurers had returned from an expedition, their bags bulging with loot. Ryan's heart raced – this could be his chance to make some sales.

"Fresh potions here, skill tabs too!" he called out, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. "Perfect for your next adventure!"

One of the adventurers , a tall elf with gleaming armor, approached his stall. Ryan's eyes widened with hope. This was it, his chance to turn things around.

"What've you got?" the elf asked, eyeing the meager selection skeptically.

Ryan's mind raced. He needed this sale, but he also knew that overselling his wares could backfire. "Well," he began, choosing his words carefully, "I've got these skill tablets. They're common grade, but they're reliable for learning new abilities quickly."

The elf picked up one of the tablets, examining it closely. "How much?"

Ryan hesitated. He needed the money, but pricing too high might scare off the customer. "Two hundred silver pieces," he said, hoping he hadn't misjudged.

The elf's eyebrows rose. "Two hundred silvers? For this?" He set the tablet down. "I can get better quality for less at Looter's Heaven."

Ryan felt his chance slipping away. Panic rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. He couldn't let this opportunity pass. In a moment of desperation, he made a decision that would change the course of his life.

"Wait!" he blurted out. "What if... what if I throw in a minor health potion? No extra charge."

This caught the elf's attention. "A free potion? Let's see it."

Ryan's hand trembled slightly as he reached for one of his few remaining potions. It was a risk, but he needed to make this sale. As he handed it over, he realized this could be a turning point. If word got out that he was offering free potions with skill tablets, it could attract more customers. But it also meant potentially losing one of his few remaining inventory items.

The elf examined the potion, his expression unreadable. Ryan held his breath, knowing that this moment could make or break his day – and possibly his future as a merchant.

The elf scrutinized the skill tablet and potion. "Common grade tablet, but the free potion does sweeten the deal."

Ryan's stomach fluttered with hope, but he forced a calm smile. "Exactly. Where else can you get both for that price?"

The elf mulled it over, then shrugged. "Fair enough." He fished out the coins and handed them over.

As the elf walked away, Ryan stared at the silver pieces in his palm. A modest haul, but it sparked an idea in his booze-addled brain. He glanced at his remaining skill tablets, then at the bustling market around him. The gears in his mind started turning, piecing together a plan that was either brilliant or completely insane.

"Veron's beard," he muttered, "I'm either brilliant or completely fucked."

Without giving himself time to reconsider, Ryan locked up his stall and stumbled towards the Banking Guild.

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The imposing stone building loomed over him, making his hangover worse. Inside, he approached a severe-looking dwarf behind a polished counter.

"I need a loan," Ryan blurted out, his eyes darting nervously.

The dwarf raised an eyebrow. "Collateral?"

"My shop."

A snort. "That pile of junk? What's your offer?"

Ryan swallowed hard. "Five gold coins. I'll repay six in a week."

The dwarf's laugh was like gravel in a tin can. "Six gold in a week? From you? And if you can't pay?"

"Seven gold in two weeks. Eight in three. And so on."

The dwarf studied him, probably wondering if Ryan was drunk or just stupid. Maybe both. Finally, he nodded. "Your shop and everything in it if you default after the third week. Deal?"

Ryan nodded, trying not to show his desperation. Soon, five gold coins clinked into his hands, feeling impossibly heavy. The weight of his decision settled on him, a mix of exhilaration and terror coursing through his veins.

Back at his stall, Ryan did some quick, painful math. He needed to buy a large stock of cheap potions to use as add-ons, leaving him with enough to maybe restock his pathetic skill tablet supply and hopefully have a chance at paying back the loan. It was a gamble, but at this point, what did he have to lose?

He eyed the Looter's Heaven store down the street. They'd sell him potions, sure, but at a premium price. No, he needed to find another alchemist or merchant, someone desperate enough to sell cheap but not so desperate they'd ask questions.

Ryan's head throbbed as he scanned the market. One week to turn five gold coins into six, or he'd lose everything. But hey, at least he had a plan. Sort of.

"Time to be a real fucking merchant," he muttered, stumbling back into the crowd.