Jason’s best feature wasn’t his strength. It wasn’t his magic adaptation. It wasn’t even his surprisingly good hair, despite not having showered in days.

It was the way he could connect with anyone. Regardless of race or species. Regardless of size, scales, fur, or fangs.

He just had that tongue.

Back in his past life, Jason had been a comedian. Not a great one—he knew that now. His jokes were cringy at best, predictable at worst. He had faced more rejections than he could count. Empty rooms. Hecklers. Bookers who laughed at his face instead of his material. But he kept going. Because Jason truly believed he was the funniest of the funny.

He wasn’t.

But his persistence had honed something else: his communication. He could find the angle. He could make anyone—anyone—feel like he was on their side.

Even though his jokes were cringe at most.

Then again, there weren’t too many good-looking comedians. So the reason he even had a platform to begin with was because of his looks, not because of his talent. He was easy on the eyes. People gave him chances they wouldn’t give some ugly schlub. And those chances taught him how to talk, how to listen, how to lie.

All of which was paying off in this world.

-

They left the tavern as the sun climbed higher, the morning light cutting through the grimy windows of the adventurer’s district. Jason’s stomach was still swollen from the meal, but his legs felt steadier now. The food had done more than fill him—it had restored something in him.

"We need a place to sleep," Ylva said, her ears swiveling at every sound. "I can’t keep carrying Thalion around like a sack of potatoes."

"I am standing on my own," Thalion muttered.

"Barely."

Jason scanned the street. Rows of buildings lined both sides—some made of stone, some of rotting wood, some patched together with what looked like scrap metal and hope. Signs hung above doorways, painted with symbols he didn’t recognize. A crescent moon. A crossed key. A sleeping wolf.

"Motels," Jason said. "Inns. Whatever they call it here. We need beds."

Thalion pointed a shaky finger toward a building at the end of the street. It was cleaner than the others—whitewashed walls, a wooden sign with a painted feather, and a small queue of creatures waiting outside. "The Feather’s Rest. It is one of the better establishments in this district."

Jason nodded. "Let’s go."

They joined the queue, Jason at the front, Ylva behind him, Thalion bringing up the rear. The creatures around them were a mix of races—a horned beastman with a broken horn, a short, stout creature with six arms, a bird-like thing preening its feathers. No one looked at them twice.

When they reached the front desk, Jason’s heart sank.

Behind the counter stood a tall, gaunt figure with pale blue skin and eyes that had no pupils—just white voids. A wraith-kin, maybe. Or something else entirely. Its voice was soft, hollow, like wind through dead trees.

"Name and guild affiliation," it said, not looking up from a thick ledger.

Jason blinked. "What?"

The creature finally raised its hollow eyes. "Rooms are assigned based on guild. No guild, no room. Those are the rules of the Feather’s Rest."

Jason’s mind raced. Based on guild. Not on coin. Not on appearance. On guild. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

He had no guild. Ylva had no guild. Thalion’s guild was extinct—or so they had just learned.

But Jason had to think quickly on his feet. He had spent a lifetime improvising on stage. This was no different.

"We’re from the Velveteen Watch," Jason said, his voice steady, confident. He even added a slight nod, like it was obvious.

The wraith-kin’s hollow eyes flickered. "The Velveteen Watch?"

"That is correct!," Jason continued, leaning one elbow on the counter like he owned the place. "We’re on a recon mission. Need a room for three. One night, maybe two."

Thalion raised a brow so high it nearly disappeared into his matted silver hair.

Ylva just shook her head, her tail flicking with disbelief. This man was a pathological liar. And somehow, it kept working.

The wraith-kin glanced down at its ledger, then back at Jason. "The Velveteen Watch has been inactive for years. Classified as KIA."

"And yet," Jason said, spreading his arms, "... here we stand. Very much not dead."

Behind him, Ylva elbowed Thalion. "Say something elvish. Sound official."

Thalion cleared his throat. "We are... on a classified assignment," he said, his stammer miraculously gone. "The guild’s status is need-to-know. And you do not need to know."

The wraith-kin stared at him for a long moment. Then its hollow eyes drifted back to Jason.

"One room," it said finally, dipping a quill into ink. "Third floor. End of the hall. No loud noises after midnight."

Jason grinned. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

The creature slid a brass key across the counter. Jason snatched it up, nodded politely, and walked toward the stairs without looking back.

The moment they were out of earshot, Ylva grabbed his arm. "You are unbelievable."

"I prefer ’resourceful,’" Jason said.

"You just lied to a wraith-kin," Thalion whispered, his pale face even paler.

"They are known to hold grudges for centuries."

Jason shrugged. "Then we’d better not come back here."

They climbed the creaking stairs to the third floor, found the room at the end of the hall, and unlocked the door.

It was small. But clean. One bed. One cot. One window overlooking a back alley.

"One room," Ylva said flatly. "One bed."

Jason looked at the bed. Then at Ylva. Then at Thalion.

"I’m not sharing with him," Thalion said quickly.

"You’re sharing with me," Ylva growled.

Jason raised his hands. "Whoa. Okay. Let’s not fight. I’ll take the floor. You two can figure out who gets the bed and who gets the cot."

Jason already knew Thalion would get the bed due to his injuries but wanted to see what Ylva would do. A test of some sort.

Thalion blinked. "You would give up the bed?"

Jason dropped onto the wooden floor with a groan. "I’ve slept on worse. Trust me."

Ylva crossed her arms, studying him. "You’re weird."

"I’m practical," Jason corrected, closing his eyes. "Now someone wake me when it’s time to eat again."

Thalion sat carefully on the edge of the cot, testing its sturdiness. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Lie so easily. Pretend to be something you’re not."

Jason opened one eye. "Practice. Lots of practice. And a deep understanding that most people want to believe you. They want the story to be true. So you just... give it to them."

Ylva sat on the bed, her claws tapping the wooden frame. "That’s dangerous."

"Everything’s dangerous," Jason said. "Might as well be charming about it."

Thalion was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "My guild is dead. You used their name."

Jason sat up, meeting the elf’s tired eyes. "You said they might still be alive. That you would have felt it if they all died."

"I said I think they are alive."

"Then I didn’t lie." Jason lay back down. "I just... believed in your belief."

Ylva snorted. "That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard."

"And yet," Jason said, "we have a room."

The three of them sat in silence, the afternoon light filtering through the dusty window. For the first time since escaping the palace, Jason felt something close to safe.