Within a few moments, Ryan had the stones in a sack and was on his way back to his shop—which was easier said than done really. It wasn't as if the stones were heavy themselves, more the fact that Ryan had to walk halfway through the other side of town.

The red sun was rising in the distance as Ryan set off towards the eastern gate. Sweat rolled down his back, but he persevered, calmly humming his childhood song to himself. He remained indifferent to the fact that he was in a race against time to save his little shop; the Merchants Guild would come for their tax, and he'd most certainly lose his only landed property if he couldn't cough up his fee.

Of course, Ryan knew and understood this as a fact. His current situation burned into his mind, but why bother about things you can't do anything about? The Realm would move on whether or not he raised the money in time. So now he'd leave his fate to Veron.

His steps echoed across the street; children stared at him and older adults nodded towards him. Ryan gladly returned the sentiment. As a child, he didn't really understand what happened in the minds of adults—why they always looked so tensed anytime he saw them in the streets, why they visited taverns, or even cursed sometimes.

As an adult, he understood clearly. Veron's clangers, he himself had become the very mystery he'd once thought to uncover. His dealings with people—adventurers mostly—left him somewhat tensed. Cicero's squad, for one, left him with the impression that there were good ones amongst them. The elf and troll were a little harder to discern, mostly the troll though. The elf seemed cruel, the troll a pushover, and Levi disinterested.

However, the seemingly unbothered man had saved his life, and Ryan knew that it wasn't a coincidence or a fluke. The man made an effort even if he did so with little attention.

A sigh escaped his lips, the blood-colored sun shining upon his face, the warmth a joy to feel. After all, how often was he out of his shop? He'd spent most of his time in the shop or at the tavern, and the hours between those two, in bed.

Before, he'd have said it was a meaningless existence, but now he had something to fight for—he had a thread to pull on. He'd seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone stop him.

"A silver for your thoughts?" a soft voice asked, jolting Ryan from his reverie.

He missed his step from surprise and nearly fell to the ground before a strong grip caught him.

"Ha, and Cicero wanted me to stop doing that!"

Ryan didn't need to glance up to recognize who that voice belonged to, but he did so anyway. The sun was shining upon Freya's face, a grin on her face as she chuckled with mirth.

"H-hey, wh-what are you doing here?" Ryan spluttered as she helped him rise to his feet.

"Seeing you, silly," Freya said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ryan's face involuntarily turned as red as the sun—an action that didn't escape Freya, seeing as hers did so too.

"I d-didn't mean it like that! Cicero said to tell you to meet us at the Siren's Call tonight," Freya said hastily, immediately turning and disappearing out of sight, Ryan's eyes unable to keep up with her form.

Ryan couldn't help but let out a chuckle at their interaction. It was weird but in a good way, one that he'd like to experience again—or not, remembering how he'd almost fallen flat on his face.

It was a little concerning that he couldn't tell how long she'd been following him around—a couple of minutes, a couple of seconds? He honestly couldn't tell. More pressing, though, was the information that she'd come to deliver: a meeting tonight at what was quickly becoming his regular tavern. Taking a quick glance at his clothes, he concluded that he wouldn't be going dressed like this, even if it was just to keep the prying eyes off him.

Even with his shop within sight and potential customers waiting for him, he turned and high-tailed it back into the Central path of the city. He needed to buy clothes, but with the amount of gold he currently had, he might just have to make it singular.

---

The central district was open to all: the rich, the not-so-rich, and the poor. Where Ryan stood on that ranking was for others to decide.

In Denair, there were only a handful of tailors you could go to, but when it came down to quality and fair cost, there was only one static: Alistar. A static that served both adventurers and other statics, provided they had the coin to pay. He made clothing that was enchanted; even the most basic of those types cost a couple of gold—something that Ryan would normally scoff at and label a waste of money.

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However, his current situation had made him open to buying such items, if only to quell his paranoia. Although a couple of gold coins wasn't really something to scoff at, so it was with great reluctance that Ryan went through the doors of Listar's Threads, the name of Alistar's establishment.

Walking through the door, he found other patrons already inside, shopping for new and fashionable items. Multiple attendants walked around the shop, making sure to see to potential patrons that needed help.

Ryan quickly noted that the majority of patrons currently in the store were adventurers by the look of things; the faces and dressing usually gave them away. Of course, there were a few adventurers that looked nothing like their profession—for instance, Cicero and... Freya. Ryan shook his head to get rid of her face popping up in his mind's eye, the mental image of the fairy dissolving.

"Welcome to Listar's Threads. What can I get for you today?" a female attendant asked.

Ryan almost cursed but held his tongue; he couldn't keep getting caught off guard like this, especially now that he was going against the big guys.

"I'd love to explore your cheapest options," Ryan said, a little bit of shame creeping into his voice. He couldn't really figure out why he was ashamed though—after all, it was his money.

"Right this way, sir. Any particular stat in mind?" the attendant asked as she led the way into the shop, weaving through the throng of people here and there.

"Particular stat?" Ryan asked, feeling like a fool. He'd only heard about the clothes made here being enchanted; he didn't really have an idea of the specifics, so he was lost—a terrible expression to display to a seller.

"Forgive me, sir. We at Listar's Threads offer clothing in three different categories. Our basic tier clothing offers only a single function, either a defensive or offensive function. Our medium tier offers the two functions plus the option for an additional defensive or offensive enchantment already on the clothes," she said, calmly approaching what looked like the men's section of the store.

"What's the third category?" Ryan asked, too late in stopping the words before they left his mouth. He didn't really need to know that; Ryan probably couldn't afford it anyway.

"The third category is a customizable tier. We allow our customers to request a quote for any specific design and enchantment that they have in mind," the elven woman said as she turned to face Ryan.

"We are here, sir. Any specific apparel in mind—perhaps a glove or trousers, shirt... a cloak?" the lady asked as she patiently waited for a response.

"Which is more expensive, basic offensive or defensive clothing?"

"It depends, sir, but the majority of our basic offensive clothing is more expensive than their counterparts."

Ryan took a moment to think. He didn't really need attacking clothing at this moment; he needed something to protect himself, just in case. He didn't really think that the Looters Heaven would come for him, but better safe than sorry.

Now came the interesting part: what apparel was he to choose? A glove? No, that would defeat the entire purpose of coming here—it wouldn't really change up his looks. A trouser or shirt would only fix one part of his dressing at a time. He needed something different, something unique.

"Show me the cheapest defensive cloaks you have," Ryan said to the attendant.

"Right this way, sir."

The attendant led the way deeper into the men's section; they passed by a few other shoppers. Ryan really marveled at how organized the place was, each piece of clothing seemingly having its own section.

"Here we are, sir. Feel free to peruse the cloaks available. I'll be right here waiting," the attendant said with a friendly tone.

Ryan couldn't help himself; a childlike anticipation crept into him, and he just almost exploded with glee at the sight of so many cloaks before him. He barely managed to contain himself, nodding at the attendant before going through the rows of cloaks.

The majority of them had hoods attached to them, a few with no collars that looked more like robes than anything, but the design that really stood out to him was the one with high collars. A single unique-looking cloak stood out to him—well, it wasn't really unique, as there were other cloaks with the same design, just with different colors, and that's probably what made this one so special.

It was a black cloak with a touch of blue around the edges, the inside of the cloak the same shade of blue—a shade that matched his eyes. Ryan honestly didn't need to think much the moment he set his eyes on it.

Pulling out the cloak, he handed it over to the attendant with a smile.

"Will that be all, sir?" she asked.

Ryan nodded his head to confirm, not quite sure if he couldn't speak because of how beautiful it looked or how much gold it was probably going to cost him.

"Please follow me to the counter," the attendant said as she seemed to randomly pick out a direction and walk towards it.

"So what does the cloak really do?" Ryan asked after he'd managed to find his voice.

"To put it simply, it protects you," the elf said in a clipped tone, weaving through the crowd with Ryan at her heels.

Ryan didn't know if he should've been offended by that answer or if it was a dumb question that everyone should know the answer to... Technically, this was his first time dealing with such things.

"I know that, but is there anything else you think I should know?" Ryan muttered.

The attendant turned and stared at Ryan; he could feel the beginning of a sigh creeping up her, but it never came.

"The cloak will only defend you three times, depending on the level of the attack, of course. The cloak will recharge itself by passively taking in the ambient mana in the air. Any other questions, sir?" the attendant asked, keeping a neutral expression painted on her face.

"Nope, thanks for that," Ryan said.

A smile broke through the lady's obvious facade as she turned and led him presumably towards the counter. An older woman sat behind the desk, and the attendant motioned for Ryan to meet up with the woman. The attendant made sure to nod at the woman, who reciprocated the gesture—probably their way of confirming who made the sale. The attendant passed the cloak back to Ryan before turning and walking away, presumably to find more customers.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Ryan said politely to the dwarven woman behind the desk.

"Aye, manners—a rare thing amongst the youths these days. Have a seat, young man," the lady said with a motherly smile.

"Thank you," Ryan said as he took a seat.

"How much does this cost?" he said, passing the cloak to the dwarf.

She ran a hand around the fabric before looking up at Ryan.

"It'll cost you three gold only."

Three gold... only? Ryan almost screamed; that was a little bit over half of what he'd gotten from the Banking Guild for a loan.