My reputation at the market was growing fast, I’d even bought a little place with a shade and a table for me to sell on.

As the saying went, Maribelle the Vendor Killer could either make you or break you. Luckily, I’d dodged the executioner’s block and taken the high road to success.

Now, wealthy locals were flocking to me for my potions. My Appraisal skill allowed me to play the role of a specialist; I could scan their ailments and tell them upfront if my potions would work before they wasted a dime.

Of course, some came with things like HIV—diseases my current potions weren’t magically equipped to scrub from their blood. Those were the ones I turned away. No sense in selling false hope when I was building a brand.

I was getting rich, and I was getting rich fast. People were already whispering a new title around the stalls: The Divine Doctor.

By lunchtime, I’d sold thirteen bottles at $500 a pop. I closed up my "shop"—if you could even call the little stall that—and headed toward the city council hall to check on Maribelle.

I hummed a tune with my hands in my pockets. The moment I arrived and gave my name, the guards skipped the formalities. I was given the VIP treatment and escorted straight to Maribelle’s office. I gave the door a firm knock.

"Come in."

I slipped inside, clicking the door shut behind me.

"Welcome, Divine Doctor," Maribelle said, gesturing toward a chair. "I began to worry you weren’t going to show."

"And miss out on a payday?" I sat down with a smirk. "I’d forget my own name before I forgot my money."

She chuckled, then her expression softened into something more sincere. She offered a slight bow. "I’ve been waiting for you. Your potions are miraculous. My child and I are completely cured—we feel healthier than ever. I’ll be forever in your debt."

"Glad I could help," I replied smoothly.

She reached into her desk, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and slid it across the mahogany toward me. "Your payment."

I raised a brow at the sheer volume of the stack. "This looks like a lot more than the $700 you owed me."

"It’s $3,000," she said. "I wish I could offer more, but this is what I can manage for now."

Not bad I thought. No matter what world I’m in, l guess I’m just destined for success.

I wasn’t about to insult her by refusing. I stashed the cash in my pocket and stood up. "Thanks, Maribelle. Glad we’ve got each other’s backs. Maybe we can grab dinner sometime? When you’re not buried in paperwork." I threw her a wink.

She blinked, momentarily stunned by the boldness, before nodding slowly. "I... I’d like that. But you don’t have a phone, and meeting here is—"

"Problem solved." I pulled out my Samsung and flashed the screen. "Got myself one. Here’s my number."

By the time I reached the building’s exit, my phone buzzed with a text from her: ’Have a good day.’

I smiled. She was actually quite sweet when she wasn’t trying to run the market with an iron fist. Maybe later I’d see if I could farm some Pleasure Points from her. But for now, I had a different target in mind. One I intended to tame.

After a quick meal and a stop for snacks and beer, I headed back to my workplace—the surveillance room. I cracked a cold can and settled into the glow of the monitors.

On one screen, Loona was tidying her house. Before we’d gotten "close," she’d been a lazy shut-in, but lately, she seemed hyperactive, almost buzzing with energy.

In another room, I saw the other woman—a frequent face on my screens, though we’d never met. A worker’s wife, maybe?

The workers returned around 4:00 PM. I looked away when they started stripping for their baths. I have standards; I’m not interested in watching guys take a leak.

Instead, I focused on the prey of the day: Secretary Kim.

I watched her enter her apartment, her stilettos silent on my muted feed but sharp in my imagination. She kicked them off immediately, beginning the transition out of her professional two-piece suit. She peeled her grey stockings down the length of her smooth legs before bringing them to her nose for a sniff to catch the scent of the fabric, then tossing them aside.

She disappeared into the shower and emerged a few minutes later wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that barely qualified as a dress. Every step she took offered a precarious glimpse of her lace panties underneath.

"Is she not streaming tonight," I mused, watching her settle onto the couch with a pizza and her phone. She spent the next hour sending voice notes and laughing at her screen, completely unaware of the eyes on her.

I checked the time. It was dragging. To kill a few minutes, I chatted with Maribelle. I learned she was married to a lawyer and had two kids—a nine-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old girl. Interesting.

By 6:52 PM—close enough to seven for me—I stood up. I threw on my security uniform, grabbed a box of spare lightbulbs, and headed for the apartments.

Outside, a group of guys were lounging on the concrete flowerbeds, clouds of cigarette smoke drifting around them.

"Good evening, gentlemen," I said, stopping in front of them. "Smoking isn’t allowed on the premises."

One of them scowled. "Get lost!"

"Seriously, you’ve been here a week and you’re already a headache!"

"I’m conducting a patrol," I said, reaching out and snatching a cigarette right out of one guy’s mouth. "Rules are rules. If you’ve got a complaint, file a report with the office."

I walked away into the building, taking a long drag of the confiscated cigarette. ’Damn, that hits the spot.’

Who was going to stop me? I was the security guard; I was the law here. A little corruption felt good every now and then.

I extinguished the cherry and tossed the butt into a bin before the smoke could trigger the hall alarms.

I arrived at Kim’s door. The muffled sound of a movie played from within. I knocked.

"Who is it?" her voice rasped.

"Security. I’m here to fix a broken bulb, ma’am."

"There are no broken bulbs in here!" she snapped through the wood. "Go away!"

I smirked and snapped my fingers.

POP.

The faint sound of glass shattering echoed from inside, followed by her sharp scream.

"Ma’am?" I called out innocently.

"The light!" she gasped. "It just... it just blew!"

"Like I said, I’m here to fix it. The system flagged a surge in your unit; I knew it was about to go."

I heard her footsteps. The door swung open, and she stood there with her arms crossed, bathed in the flickering blue light of her TV.

"Well? Fix it quickly. I don’t like the dark," she huffed.

I stepped into the dim apartment and closed the door firmly behind me.

Tbc