The woman’s words hung in the air, sharper than the knife in her hand. Leo’s throat was dry. He couldn’t form a coherent thought, only a jumble of panic and a sliver of desperate hope.

"I... My client," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "He's a... dragon. He wants a marinated egg."

The woman, Yuki, finally looked up. Her eyes were dark and ancient, holding a depth that didn't match her youthful face. There was no surprise in them, only a weary sort of confirmation. She placed the black knife down on a clean cloth with reverence.

"Ignis, the Insatiable," she stated, not asked. "He has a sweet tooth for Tonkotsu, but he's notoriously picky about his toppings. You're not the first fool to fall for his 'incomplete order' scam."

Leo stared, dumbfounded. "Scam? He's going to recycle me!"

"The system is harsh, but it's not without rules," Yuki said, her voice flat. She gestured with her chin towards one of the stools. "Sit. You smell of ozone and desperation. It's bad for business."

Leo obeyed, perching nervously on the edge of the stool. The timer on his phone glowed ominously in the dim light: 21:54:32.

"I can make you an egg," Yuki continued, turning to a pristine, futuristic-looking cooler behind her. "An egg that will make a dragon weep with joy. A perfect, divinely marinated Roc Egg. But nothing in this business is free, newbie."

"I'll pay anything!" Leo blurted out. "I don't have many credits, but..."

Yuki let out a short, sharp laugh. "Credits? Your mortal currency is worthless here. We trade in value. In effort. In risk." She pulled a single, enormous, speckled egg from the cooler. It seemed to hum with a faint energy. "I need an ingredient. One that I can't easily acquire myself right now. You will be my delivery boy."

"Anything," Leo repeated, his voice firm this time.

"Good," she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I need one hundred grams of Whispering Salt. You can find it at the Night-Tide Market. It only appears on the old, abandoned subway platform beneath Central Station when the moon is new." She glanced at a sleek, minimalist clock on the wall. "Which it is tonight. The market will be closing in two hours."

She slid a small, empty, silk pouch across the counter to him, along with a single, tarnished copper coin. "This coin will grant you entry. Do not speak to anyone unless spoken to. Do not make eye contact with the things in cloaks. And whatever you do, do not eat the food. Get the salt, and only the salt."

Leo found himself back on the rain-slicked streets, the silk pouch and the strange coin clutched in his hand. The abandoned platform at Central Station was the stuff of urban legends. Following Yuki's precise instructions, he found a service entrance and descended into the damp, echoing darkness, the air growing colder with every step.

The platform was not empty. It was teeming with a silent, bustling crowd of beings that did not belong in the human world. The air was thick with the scent of unknown spices, damp earth, and something else, something like the electricity before a storm. Goblins with eyes like polished stones haggled over glowing trinkets in a language of clicks and whistles. Tall, slender figures in dark cloaks drifted through the crowd, their faces hidden in shadow. No one seemed to notice Leo, yet he felt the weight of a hundred unseen stares.

He spotted the stall in the corner: a structure of driftwood and bone, manned by a creature with skin like sea-weathered leather and long, webbed fingers. Piled on the counter were small, shimmering mounds of salt that seemed to absorb the light. The Whispering Salt.

As Leo approached, the creature’s large, black eyes fixed on him. A raspy voice echoed in his mind, not his ears.

<What does the surface-dweller seek?>

Leo, remembering Yuki's warning, simply placed the copper coin on the counter. The coin made no sound, as if the metal were dead. The creature’s eyes widened slightly. It scooped a measure of the shimmering salt into the silk pouch, its long fingers moving with surprising speed.

<A fair trade. The Witch of Flavors pays her debts.>

Pouch in hand, Leo turned to leave. As he did, his eyes accidentally met those of one of the cloaked figures. For a split second, he saw not a face, but a swirling vortex of stars and nebulae under the hood. A cold that wasn't physical ran down his spine, and his mind filled with the sound of cracking glass.

The figure tilted its head. A voice, made of rustling leaves and cracking ice, spoke directly into his soul.

<I see your thread, little courier. It is tangled with fate... and with fire. So bright. So fragile.>

Leo broke eye contact, his heart pounding, and fled the market, not stopping until he burst back into Yuki's quiet, calm restaurant, gasping and shaking.

He placed the pouch on the counter. Yuki inspected the salt, nodding in satisfaction. "You were quick. And you're still in one piece. Promising."

Without another word, she began the ritual of cooking. It wasn't just cooking; it was an art form. Her hands danced. The black knife was a blur that sliced through ingredients Leo didn't recognize. She prepared the Roc Egg with a fierce concentration, marinating it in a dark, fragrant liquid and a pinch of the Whispering Salt. The aroma that filled the small restaurant was a physical thing, a wave of warmth and flavor that made Leo's stomach ache with hunger and his mouth water.

She placed the finished, glistening egg in a special insulated container. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "Your delivery."

Leo looked at the timer on his phone: 00:15:27.

"Go," Yuki commanded. "And try not to get eaten."

Leo raced back to his office, his heart a frantic drum. He took a deep breath, opened the storage door, and stepped back into the oppressive heat of the dragon's lair.

Ignis was waiting, his massive head resting on the stone floor, his glowing eyes fixed on the portal. Impatience radiated from him in waves of heat.

"You are either very brave or very foolish to return," the dragon's voice boomed in his mind, louder and more dangerous than before. "The timer on your pathetic existence is almost at its end. Do you have my egg?"

Leo, trembling, held up the container. The dragon lifted its head, its tower-sized neck uncoiling. Its nostril, large enough to swallow Leo whole, flared, sniffing the air.

<I smell it... the Whispering Salt.>

Leo, trembling, held up the container. The chapter ends there, with the dragon's massive, smoldering eye filling Leo's entire field of vision, reflecting his own terrified image.