Zinnia observed the bustling below from her perch, her chin resting in her hand, her expression a perfect blend of elegance and boredom. The divinator’s information had led her here with the promise of an “opportunity,” but so far, the timing had been off more than she thought. This small town lacked refinement—no luxurious inns, no fine dining, no thriving markets. It was dull, plain, and uninspiring, and Zinnia had already been waiting over a week.

Her first-choice divinator would’ve given her an exact date and time for the event, unfortunately, she’d already sold that intel to the highest bidder and refused to be tied down by an exclusive contract. That left Zinnia with her backup divinator, a competent but inconsistent seer who’d only managed to narrow it down to "this week or the next" And so, she waited.

Zinnia exhaled dramatically, slumping her shoulders as she mumbled to herself, “I hope I don’t have to wait much longer.”

What concerned her more than the delay was the possibility of him showing up. This was his territory, after all. If that man’s divinator had caught wind of the same opportunity, it could lead to a disastrous encounter—one she’d rather avoid. But there was no point in spiraling into what-ifs. She would simply have to wait, as frustrating as it was.

The hour for today’s potential opportunity had already passed, so she resigned herself to another day of waiting. She leaned back, letting her eyes wander to the activity below. She loved people-watching—it was one of the few joys she could indulge in while stuck in this dreary place. And with her ability, she could do so at her heart’s content.

The things people did when they thought no one was watching always amused her. Body language, subtle gestures, unconscious tells—these could speak volumes about a person, often more than words ever could. Not to say she didn’t participate in any eavesdropping. It was her favorite past-time. It just wasn’t a possibility from her vantage point. She scanned the grounds below, her gaze falling on a group of newbie divers emerging from their first dungeon. They moved stiffly, some with visible injuries, others with weariness in their steps.

Zinnia smirked. Fledglings, she thought dismissively. From this height, she couldn’t hear their conversations, but she didn’t care what these low-rankers had to say. They were predictable and uninteresting, their struggles as insignificant as insects on the ground. Still, observing them gave her something to do, and at least tomorrow, she could check the location again. For now, she would simply watch.

Zinnia’s lips curled into a curious smirk as she looked down from her perch and caught someone glancing upward. It wasn’t unusual for people to look toward the sky, but this person’s gaze didn’t wander aimlessly—it locked directly onto her or at least the rooftop she was on. She chuckled softly to herself. No one ever looks up here. There’s nothing to see.

Then his eyes landed unmistakably on her. Is he looking at me? No, impossible. No one can see me. Yet, as she focused on him, she noticed a faint swirl of colors in his eyes. Her smirk vanished. How? she thought, her pulse quickening.

To test him, she stepped to the right and his eyes followed. He’s tracking me! Her mind raced. This is absurd. He’s just a newbie! How is he seeing through my ability?

Intrigue replaced her initial disbelief. Well, this might cut through the boredom, she mused, stepping back out of his line of sight. Her footsteps were silent as she descended the building, landing as lightly as a shadow. Concealed behind a tree, she observed the man more closely. He was walking with another, taller companion. Both wore military attire, marking them as fledgling Dungeoneers fresh from the academy.

She followed closely, her ability still active, weaving through the streets behind them. The man with the magical eyes never turned, his focus on his companion. So his ability is purely visual, she thought. He can only see what’s in front of him. Good. That keeps things easy.

She trailed them for nearly ten minutes, stepping close enough to practically brush against their backs. Nothing. Not even a flicker of awareness, she thought with a mental sigh. Her stealth was impeccable.

The duo chatted idly as they wandered through the town. Zinnia barely suppressed a yawn as she listened. Their conversation was as dull as she’d expected—typical nonsense from green divers. The duo seemed to be heading toward the bathhouse, passing by merchants hawking their wares along the way. Zinnia, who already knew the location by heart, followed them closely. Before reaching their destination, she overheard the taller one say, “Before the bath, how about we get a drink in Coren’s memory?”

The man with the swirling eyes nodded solemnly, and they stepped inside. Zinnia leaned against a wall, her interest waning. So, they lost a teammate in their first dungeon. Boo-hoo. Welcome to the life, fledglings. She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping impatiently against her elbow. Better get used to it. It won’t be the last.

Her mind churned as she assessed the man. His ability intrigued her—being able to see through her invisibility was almost unheard of—but aside from that, he seemed painfully ordinary. Another fresh diver, barely out of training, with no discernible skills beyond his unique sight. Useful for someone in my business, she admitted silently. Sometimes people just get lucky and obtain rare innate abilities. Her business already employed plenty of individuals with unique and useful abilities. This man could become one of them in the future, but she wasn’t sure if he was worth keeping tabs on just yet. If nothing else, she could always pass what she’d learned along to her sister. After all, this was her sister’s territory, and if the information led to anything, Zinnia might at least secure a favor in return.

Her face darkened at the thought. This dusty little town should’ve been her responsibility, not mine. But her sister’s timing had been off, leaving Zinnia to manage the situation herself. She frowned, glancing toward the tavern door as the duo entered. Let’s hope this “opportunity” is worth it, she thought bitterly.

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Zinnia folded her arms as she watched the duo disappear into the tavern. It just so happens they chose an interesting one, she mused, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she slipped in unnoticed behind them. Finally, something to break the monotony. She found a wall nearby with little foot traffic and leaned against it, positioning herself perfectly to observe the two while staying invisible.

This particular tavern was run by an eccentric old man with a well-known grudge against a certain merchant in town. The feud, as the story went, had started when the barman bought something from the merchant—what exactly, Zinnia couldn’t quite remember. Some trinket or whatnot, it hardly mattered. The point was that the barman felt cheated, claiming the merchant was either a fraud or the product was no good.

Naturally, the barman went to confront the merchant, who reportedly brushed him off with an “I don’t know what you’re talking about” attitude. Words were exchanged, tempers flared, and what began as a dispute over a single item escalated into a full-blown vendetta. From that day forward, the two did everything in their power to undermine one another.

They each tried steering away business from each other, but the merchant had an edge. He was the only person in town who owned a non-combat class tome. He charged a hefty fee to let curious customers touch the tome and see what new class they could unlock. Curiosity was a hell of a thing, Zinnia thought, amused by how people would part with their coin for a single touch.

But then, as the gossip went, the old man’s son—a respectable dungeon diver—returned home one day with a gift for his father: a non-combat class tome of his own. The barman, such a schemer, didn’t use the tome for himself. Instead, he weaponized it in his feud. He began offering patrons the chance to touch the tome for free—as long as they bought a drink.

When Zinnia first overheard the story, she had almost blown her cover trying not to laugh. It was such a clever bit of pettiness. The old man’s ploy had completely shifted the rivalry’s balance, drawing curious patrons into the tavern and away from the merchant’s overpriced offering. From what she’d heard, the old man was winning the feud, though she had yet to see it for herself.

Zinnia shifted slightly, her gaze fixed on the tavern door. Maybe I’ll finally get to verify the story firsthand.

The duo waited quietly at a table tucked near the far end of the room. The tavern was sparsely populated at this time of day, with only a handful of patrons scattered across the dimly lit space. Zinnia’s eyes followed the movement of an old man as he shuffled toward the table.

The barman had a wiry frame that belied his strength. He had short silver hair and a thick mustache that curled slightly at the edges, giving him a mischievous air. A simple apron covered his plain shirt and trousers, which bore stains from years of tending to his bar. Despite his weathered appearance, his sharp eyes seemed to take in everything around him.

“What’ll it be, boys?” the old man asked, his voice gravelly but kind.

“Three shots of gin,” the taller one said, his tone steady. The old man’s gaze flicked between the two, noting the empty seat at their table. He nodded in understanding, a flicker of something softer crossing his face.

“First time, I assume?” the old man asked.

The other, Kaiden—Zinnia had picked up his name from the taller one earlier—answered. “Yeah. We just finished our first dungeon.”

The barman gave a somber nod. “I’d say congratulations, but it sounds like condolences are more in order.”

Kaiden murmured a quiet, “Thank you,” while the taller one just nodded, his face unreadable.

The old man turned and disappeared behind the bar, returning moments later with three small glasses. He placed one shot of gin in front of each of the two divers, and the third in front of the empty chair. Without another word, he left them to their moment.

The two young men clinked their glasses together, muttering a soft toast, and downed the shots in one go. Zinnia watched intently, her lips quirking as the taller man’s eyes widened, his face scrunching up as he tried to stifle a cough. Pathetic, she thought with mild amusement. The gin was clearly too strong for the fledgling diver.

Kaiden, on the other hand, drank his with ease, his face calm as he set the empty glass back on the table. He smiled slightly and said, “I can finally enjoy gin again.”

What an odd thing to say, Zinnia thought, narrowing her eyes. But she quickly dismissed it, chalking it up to some personal sentiment she didn’t care to puzzle out.

The barman returned shortly after, this time carrying a tome. He set it gently on the table, its cover gleaming faintly in the low light. “You boys know what this is for, right?” he asked.

The two exchanged confused glances. The taller one finally answered, “No, sir. Like we said, it’s our first time here.”

The old man chuckled, his mustache twitching with the movement. “You mean to tell me that out of all the bars in this town, you just happened to walk into this one without knowing about my tome?”

“Sorry,” Kaiden said, his tone apologetic but still unsure. “We’re not following.”

The barman grinned knowingly, leaning closer. “Well, I’ll tell you this much. Anyone who drinks here gets a free touch of my tome. It’s a non-combat class tome.”

Zinnia caught the flash of recognition in both men’s eyes, their postures straightening slightly.

“Really?” Kaiden asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

The old man nodded, clearly pleased with their reactions. “Don’t worry about why, just give it a touch. And don’t even think about trying to unlock the class here. Everyone knows what’ll happen if you try.”

The taller one held up a hand in mock surrender. “No need to worry,” he said.

The barman smiled. “I trust you military folk. Have fun.” He scooped up the two empty glasses and walked away, leaving the third still sitting untouched on the table.

As soon as the old man was out of earshot, the taller one leaned in, his voice hushed but brimming with excitement. “I can’t believe he’s really gonna let us do this. Not like I need it, but hey, I don’t mind confirming what I already know.”

Kaiden, however, wore a different expression entirely. His face was drawn, almost apprehensive, as though the idea of touching the tome made him uneasy. Zinnia’s interest was piqued. What’s with that look? she wondered.

The taller one reached out confidently, placing his hand on the tome. After a few moments, he pulled it back with a wide grin. “Told ya! Blacksmith!”

Kaiden nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, that was obvious.”

“Your turn,” the taller one said, gesturing toward the tome.

Kaiden paused, his brow furrowed as he slowly placed his hand on the tome. Zinnia could almost feel his reluctance, and her intrigue grew. Why is he so hesitant?

A moment passed before Kaiden removed his hand, his expression puzzled.

“Well?” the taller one prompted.

Kaiden hesitated, glancing at him. “Davick…”

Davick, Zinnia thought, locking onto the name. So, that’s his name.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Davick said, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Kaiden exhaled. “What’s a Spell Scribe?”

Davick frowned, clearly just as clueless. “I dunno. We could ask one of the sergeants later, I guess.”

Zinnia froze. She was extremely glad she was invisible so no one could see the look of absolute shock that flashed across her face. Did he just say… Spell Scribe? Her mind raced.

Who is this man?