Jason should have gone back to the inn.

His body was exhausted. His eyes were heavy. The cold night air had done its job—clearing his head, settling his nerves—and now every instinct told him to climb the stairs, curl up on the floor beside Ylva, and sleep until noon.

But Jason didn’t listen to his instincts. He never did.

Instead, he turned left at the crossroads instead of right. Away from the Feather’s Rest. Deeper into the adventurer’s district.

The streets were empty, the lanterns low, but Jason felt no fear. He had nothing to lose. His pockets were empty. His body was bruised. His face was still swollen from Ylva’s morning punch. And according to Thalion, this was a no-kill zone—at least within the taverns and inns that followed guild rules.

Of course, since when had rules stopped anybody from breaking them?

Jason shoved his hands into his pockets and walked.

The buildings here were different from the ones near the palace. No elegant arches, no glowing mana lamps, no pristine cobblestones polished by elf servants. This part of town was functional. Brutal. Iron grates over windows. Doors reinforced with steel. Signs written in bold, blocky letters that left no room for interpretation:

"No Weapons Inside. No Bounties on Premises. Trespassers Will Be Hammered."

He needed to understand the rules of this world. Or rather, this town. It seemed guilds had preferential treatment—Kaelen’s crew had walked into that tavern like they owned it, and everyone else had dropped their eyes. Anyone that came alone stood no chance. A solo adventurer was just a corpse waiting to happen.

Jason knew for sure it was out of his control. There was nothing he could do in this moment. He couldn’t join a guild by himself—he was too weak. He couldn’t fight like Ylva or cast like Thalion. All he had was his tongue and his ability to adapt.

But this was peaceful.

The night was quiet. The stars were bright. For the first time since waking up in this world, Jason wasn’t running, hiding, or lying to someone’s face. He was just... walking. A broke, battered stranger in a city full of monsters and mercenaries.

And no one was trying to kill him.

Yet.

He passed a fountain at the center of a small square—carved from black stone, shaped like a coiled serpent. The water was dark, almost oily, but it moved. Jason stopped for a moment, watching the ripples catch the starlight.

His mind drifted back to Helga.

He had enjoyed his conversation with the dwarf. She was blunt, crude, and didn’t pretend to like him. That was refreshing. Everyone else either wanted to sleep with him, kill him, or use him for something. Helga just wanted to drink her flask and be left alone.

Jason smiled to himself. He was also shocked she had a huge-ass beard. Braided with iron rings, no less. But compared to the others—Kaelen’s scales, Mira’s feline grace, the wraith-kin at the inn—Helga was the least strange. She was just a short, angry woman with a hammer and a dead brother. That, Jason understood.

He was still smiling when a massive hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

Before he could react, a palm connected with his face.

SMACK.

The sound echoed off the stone buildings like a gunshot.

Jason’s head whipped to the side. His vision exploded into stars—not the pretty kind, the painful kind. He stumbled back, clutching his cheek, and nearly fell into the serpent fountain. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

He didn’t need to see who had hit him.

He could instantly tell it was Ylva.

She stood in front of him, her eyes blazing, her ears flat against her skull, her chest heaving with barely contained rage. Her claws were retracted—she had hit him with her palm, not her claws—but her whole body radiated violence.

She was so fucking violent.

"WHAT THE HELL, YLVA?!" Jason shouted, cupping his burning cheek. "I was just WALKING!"

"You left," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Without waking me. Without telling anyone. I opened my eyes and you were GONE."

"So you tracked me down to SLAP me?!"

"Yes!"

Jason stared at her. His cheek was throbbing. He was fairly certain she had re-broken his nose—or at least made it worse.

"I was getting fresh air!" he said, gesturing wildly at the empty square. "Look! Fresh air! Lots of it! No one is trying to kill me! This is a good thing!"

Ylva stepped closer, jabbing a clawed finger into his chest. "You don’t get to just disappear. Not after everything that’s happened. Not when there are elves who want to experiment on yo-! I mean Thalion and whatever the hell else is out there!"

Jason raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I should have left a note. But you were sleeping, and Thalion was sleeping, and I thought—"

"You thought WRONG."

"I do that a lot! It’s kind of my thing!"

Ylva stared at him for a long moment. Her chest was still heaving. Her tail was thrashing behind her like an angry snake. But gradually, the fire in her eyes dimmed from "murderous" to merely "furious."

"You scared me," she admitted, the words barely above a whisper.

Jason’s cheek still hurt, but something in his chest softened.

"I scared you?"

"Don’t make it weird." She crossed her arms, looking away. "I just... woke up and you weren’t there. And after that dream you had—you were muttering in your sleep again, by the way—I thought maybe something had happened. Something had taken you."

Jason blinked. "You heard me muttering?"

"You said ’I am the system’ about six times. Then you said ’wake up.’ Then you went quiet and your heart was racing so fast I thought you were having a seizure."

Jason winced. "That bad, huh?"

Ylva finally looked at him. Her expression was a mix of anger, exhaustion, and something else—something she would never admit to.

"You’re an idiot," she said.

"So I’ve been told."

"A reckless, stupid, suicidal idiot."

"Also accurate."

"And if you ever leave without telling me again, I won’t slap you. I’ll claw your throat out."

Jason offered a weak smile. "Noted. No more solo midnight walks. I’ll wake you up so you can come with me and glare at the stars."

Ylva’s tail flicked. "You’re mocking me."

"I’m terrified of you. There’s a difference," Jason responded.

She stared at him for another long moment. Then, unexpectedly, her lips twitched. Not quite a smile—more like the ghost of one.

"You’re lucky I like you," she muttered.

Jason’s bruised face broke into a genuine grin. "You like me?"

"Shut up and walk back to the inn."

She turned and started walking, her bare feet silent on the cobblestones. Jason fell into step beside her, his cheek still burning, his heart still pounding.

But for some reason, he felt safer than he had all night.

"You know," he said, "for someone who claims to hate me, you sure do worry a lot."

Ylva’s ears flattened. "I don’t worry. I just don’t want my food source to disappear."

"My food source? I’m the one who’s broke!"

"Exactly. You owe me money. Die before paying it back and I’ll resurrect you just to kill you again."

Jason laughed—a real laugh, loud and unexpected in the quiet square. A few windows lit up above them. Someone shouted "Shut up!"

"See?" Jason whispered. "Now we’re both annoying the neighbors. Teamwork."

Ylva shook her head, but she didn’t argue.

They walked back to the Feather’s Rest in silence, side by side, the stars fading overhead as dawn crept closer.