Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 7

Eren jolted awake to the sound of muffled voices echoing from below. He lay still, every muscle tense, listening as the voices rose and fell like waves crashing in the distance. His hand instinctively moved to the dagger under his pillow, his fingers wrapping around the hilt. In this town, sleep would be a luxury he could no longer afford.

The voices grew louder, edging on anger. He forced himself to breathe, clearing his mind as he let the sounds guide him back to the nightmarish world he now inhabited. He couldn't afford to be seen as weak here, couldn't risk attracting the kind of attention that might end him before he had a chance to learn the rules of survival.

But the unmistakable, biting thrill of curiosity tugged at him. He'd never been one to shy away from danger—his whole life had been a series of choices that led him deeper into the unknown. With a quick, steadying breath, he rose, slipping the dagger into his sleeve, and moved silently toward the door.

The inn creaked underfoot, each step feeling like a risk as he crept down the stairs. Shadows filled the cramped hallways, pooling in corners and stretching along the walls. Eren pressed his back against the wall, inching forward until he could peer into the main room.

A handful of men gathered around a table, their faces hidden by the dim light. The innkeeper, standing with his arms crossed, watched them with a wary expression, his thick brows furrowed. From the snatches of conversation, Eren picked up fragments of a plan, words dripping with venom and intent. "The shipment," one muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "It'll be here by sunrise. If we don't act now—"

"Patience," another voice cut in, smooth and sharp as glass. Eren's gaze shifted, landing on the speaker—a woman, cloaked in dark robes, her face partially obscured by shadows. Her fingers traced idle patterns on the table, her gaze distant, calculating.

Eren held his breath, watching her closely. There was a quiet authority to her, a lethal grace in her movements. She was no stranger to violence; that much was clear from the way the others deferred to her without question. He felt a prickling sensation along his spine, a visceral recognition of the power she held. This was the kind of person who could turn this place on its head with a word.

His mind raced, piecing together what little he could from the fragments he overheard. A shipment of... something. Something worth gathering this many people for in the dead of night. Something that, if he played his cards right, might serve as a foothold in this dangerous place.

Eren's fingers itched at the thought. Information was power here, and if he could just learn enough...

"You plan to keep watching all night, or do you want to join us?" The woman's voice was like a blade slicing through his thoughts, and Eren's blood ran cold.

She was looking right at him.

His instincts screamed to run, but he forced himself to remain still, schooling his features into a calm expression as he stepped out of the shadows. Every eye in the room turned to him, sizing him up, some filled with hostility, others with curiosity.

"I was just... curious," he said, carefully keeping his voice steady. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to see what passes for excitement in this town."

The woman's lips curved into a small smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

He shrugged, feigning indifference. "Good thing I'm not a cat, then."

Her smile widened slightly, and she inclined her head, motioning for him to take a seat. "Interesting. Sit with us, then. Let's see if your curiosity has any use."

Eren moved cautiously, his eyes sweeping over the faces around the table. The men regarded him with a mix of suspicion and resentment, but none dared challenge him directly. They knew their place here—and he'd have to learn his quickly if he wanted to keep his head.

He took a seat across from the woman, holding her gaze. "So, what's this all about?"

The woman studied him for a moment, then leaned forward, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "We have a shipment coming in. Something valuable. And we could use an extra pair of hands... or a sharp mind."

"What's in the shipment?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, though his pulse quickened. This was the opportunity he needed, but he couldn't show eagerness. He couldn't afford to seem too interested—or too desperate.

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in her gaze. "You're new here, aren't you? People don't get to ask questions in Irelian. You either take the offer, or you walk away."

Eren bit back his frustration, nodding slowly. "Fine. I'm in."

A ripple of murmurs spread among the men, but the woman silenced them with a look. "Good." She slid a small, rough map across the table. "You'll meet us here an hour before dawn. Bring whatever you need, but don't expect any handholding. We're not responsible for what happens to you if you can't keep up."

Eren's gaze flicked to the map, committing the route to memory. "Understood."

As he rose to leave, the woman's voice stopped him. "One more thing," she said, her tone casual but laced with steel. "There's a price to be paid for failure. If you're not prepared to do whatever it takes, then walk away now."

He met her gaze, his heart pounding. The weight of her words settled heavily on him, but he forced himself to nod. "I understand."

She held his gaze for a long moment, as if searching for something in his expression. Then she nodded, dismissing him with a flick of her hand.

Eren slipped back upstairs, his mind buzzing. This was his first real chance to prove himself, to show that he could survive here. But it was also a gamble—a test of both his wits and his resolve. If he failed, he wouldn't get a second chance.

As he lay back on the cot, he traced the route in his mind, running through the plan over and over. The woman's face lingered in his thoughts, her words echoing in his mind. There was a power here he hadn't touched yet, a dark energy that called to him, promising strength... if he had the will to claim it.

But beneath the layers of resolve, a familiar feeling crept in. That quiet, persistent voice whispering that he'd made a mistake, that he'd wandered too far into the shadows. He pushed it down, buried it beneath his growing determination.

When dawn came, he'd face whatever waited for him. And he wouldn't look back.

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