A small, handwritten poster read:

**"SOMEONE WHO CAN READ AND WRITE. PAY WILL BE DISCUSSED BETWEEN THE TWO PEOPLE."**

He snorted.

You're asking for someone literate? Makes me wonder how you managed to get this posted in the first place.

Still, it was perfect. He memorized the address listed at the bottom and peeled the paper off the board.

As he tucked the flyer into his coat, Derek wandered off without a word, likely chasing his own prospects.

---

When Lovell reached the listed address, he expected some grizzled old man or a merchant scribbling away in a ledger. Instead, he found a dimly lit shop with a single occupant—a girl who looked no older than fourteen, perched lazily on the counter.

She was small, sharp-eyed, and wore an expression that said she had better things to do than deal with him.

Is she evaluating me? he wondered. I suppose you have to be cautious if you want to survive in this city. Alright then, let's see what you're about too.

"Little lady, do you know where I can find Jerome?" he asked, flashing a polite smile. "I came for the request posted on the notice board in town."

The girl looked him dead in the eye. "First of all, I'm not a little girl. I'm nineteen—which makes me older than most of the lowlifes crawling through this town. And second, Jerome isn't here."

Lovell flinched. Her voice was surprisingly mature, and if she was telling the truth, that made her older than him.

Damn… This city really chews people up. She's tiny, but she's clearly lived a hard life. Probably didn't get enough to eat growing up.

A little embarrassed, he shifted the topic and tried to make small talk, hoping to coax Jerome's location out of her.

Eventually, she relented.

"He usually goes to the market to 'sell coats,'" she said with air quotes. "But honestly, I think it's just an excuse to flirt with girls. He claims it's 'market research.'"

Not particularly interested in their domestic squabbles, Lovell headed toward the market.

She said he's blind in one eye. Shouldn't be too hard to spot.

Navigating the crowd took time, but Lovell eventually found his way back to the first stall he'd visited when he entered the cave-town.

"Hey, boss. You wouldn't happen to be Jerome, would you?"

The half-blind stall owner turned at the sound of Lovell's voice. His gaze settled on the teenager standing before him—about seventeen, with a forced, friendly smile and a thin scar across his upper lip. What stood out more than his expression, though, were his eyes. Calculating. Alert.

"You again?" Jerome said, squinting. "Didn't expect you back so soon. Managed to scrape together enough coin for a coat already? You're sharper than you look."

Lovell grinned, taking it as a compliment. "Not exactly. I came for something else."

He reached into his pocket and produced the flyer he had torn from the board.

"This. I heard you were hiring, so I figured we could talk terms."

Jerome raised an eyebrow as he took the paper. "You came for work? Wait—why'd you tear it down? It costs money to post those things."

"Just being proactive," Lovell replied with a shrug. "Didn't want anyone else applying. Call it reducing the competition."

Jerome didn't seem pleased, but he waved it off.

"Fine. If we're going to talk, let's do it back at my shop. Wait here while I get someone to cover the stall."

Lovell nodded. "No problem."

---

By the time they returned to the shop, the raven-haired girl was still sitting on the counter like she owned the place. Jerome sighed heavily.

"Lu! Didn't I tell you to go out back and bring out those knives we're supposed to sell? Why are you still here doing nothing?"

Lu blinked slowly, clearly unimpressed.

"I told you—delicate girls like me aren't built for manual labor. Why don't you ask one of your many girlfriends to help? You're always out hunting for a new one, right?"

Jerome twitched, visibly flustered. "Just… be more helpful next time, will you?"

Lovell stood quietly through the exchange, doing his best not to laugh. The back-and-forth had the feel of an old, familiar comedy routine.

Jerome rounded the counter and sat down, Lu settling back in front of him like a guard dog pretending to be disinterested.

"So, what did you say your name was?"

"Lovell."

"Alright, Lovell. We're looking for someone to manage the books. The next supply caravan for the academy arrives in two weeks, and we'll be bringing in a ton of new stock. I need help with inventory, ledgers, and customer tallies. How skilled are you—and how much are you asking for?"

Sounds like they're gearing up for a busy season. Lovell quickly ran the math in his head: the job wasn't labor-heavy, which would give him more breathing room after training with Mathius and whatever the academy had planned.

"How about a hundred bar a month?" Lovell offered. "I'm mostly available during the day, around four days a week."

Jerome rubbed his chin. "Make it five days. One-fifty bar."

Lovell held out a hand. "Deal."

The handshake was firm, and with that, the arrangement was sealed. Jerome showed Lovell the back room where he'd be working and gave him a rough idea of his responsibilities, though there was no actual work to be done that day.

After wrapping things up, Lovell said his goodbyes and made his way back to Rose's shed, grumbling under his breath.

They could've at least offered a signing fee. What, do they think I'm gonna drop dead tomorrow and not be worth the expense?

Practical… but harsh.

---

Evening settled in by the time the others returned. The rest of the former prisoners trickled into the shed, weary from their first day in the underground town.

I really should learn their names if we're going to be living like this.

Lovell made a point to mentally catalog a few of them: Kane, the red-haired guy who knows how to curry favor; Weasel, who looks just like his name; and a slightly bulky guy named Vick stood out the most.

They didn't talk much about their jobs, but each brought back a handful of coins—most having landed work that paid between 10 to 20 bar a week.

Lovell counted the pooled notes. They were just shy of a hundred.

If we had a hundred a week, we could afford to move out of this dirt pile and find a real place to stay.

But living expenses weren't the only concern. Long-term survival meant structure, savings, and smarter choices.

He pushed the thought aside and turned his attention to the next day. His first official job since arriving here.