The little bell above the shop door tinkled softly as Kael and his sister left, clutching the potion that would keep the boy's lungs working long enough to heal properly.
For a moment, the air was still. Frost lingered faintly on Jade's fingertips where he had sealed tissue and frozen the collapse of Kael's lungs. He flexed his hand once, watching the residual spark of light flicker away before tucking it back into the sleeve of his black turtleneck.
He exhaled. Good. The boy will live. For now.
But already, his Void Sense was stirring. Ripples brushed across its edges like whispers in a crowd. Someone had taken notice of the miracle. Not gratitude—resentment. Envy. Fear.
Jade leaned back in the chair behind the counter, hands resting on his lap, and let the silence settle. Outside, the lower city hummed with life: neon advertisements flickering on wet ferrocrete, the low drone of hovercrafts gliding between towers, laughter and curses rising from the alleyways where light barely reached. The Sector's pulse was restless. And Jade had just dropped a stone into its waters.
It didn't take long for the ripples to arrive at his doorstep.
....
The next day, customers came in more cautiously. Not the desperate, not the hopeful, but people whose eyes lingered too long, whose questions bent sideways, whose smiles were just a little too practiced. Jade noticed them all.
A man in his mid-thirties entered first. Broad Beta frame, hair slicked back with synth-gel, a scar cutting through one eyebrow. His fingers tapped restlessly against the counter as he leaned in.
"You're the boy brewing miracles, hm?" His tone was light, but his eyes held the steel of a street merc who had seen too much.
"I brew potions," Jade said mildly. He didn't rise from his chair, didn't bother to adjust his blindfold. "If you came for rumors, you'll leave empty-handed."
The man chuckled. "Rumors spread faster than rot. They say you used forbidden methods. Soul-binding. Voidcraft in your cauldron. People talk." He tilted his head. "And people fear."
Jade remained still. His blindfold hid the flash of amusement in his eyes. Voidcraft? They are closer to the truth than they realize… but still blind.
"People can fear what they want," Jade replied. "Fear doesn't change the taste of the potion, or the way it heals."
The merc studied him for a long moment before grunting. "Fair." He tossed a handful of cryst-coins onto the counter, the interstellar currency clinking faintly as their digital cores registered the sale. "I'll take one. If I wake up cursed, I'll come back for your head."
Jade's lips curved slightly. "If you wake up healed, you'll come back for more."
The man snorted but left with the vial, his heavy boots echoing against the polished floor.
---
Later came a pair of women, both Betas by scent, their faces nearly identical—sisters. One wore her hair short, dyed silver at the tips; the other had long braids pulled tight against her skull. They moved like dancers, fluid and in step, their eyes sharp as razors.
"We heard you sell Tier-3 potions," the braided one said.
"We heard you sell lies," the short-haired one added, lips twisting.
Jade remained unruffled. "Both can be true, depending on who's listening."
Their brows furrowed, unused to a child talking as though he held the higher ground. "Then prove it," the short-haired sister snapped. "Drink your own potion in front of us."
Jade tilted his head. The shop's lights caught in his hair, casting a silvery glow down his shoulders. "If I wasted my products on every skeptic, I'd have none left for those who truly need them. If you doubt, leave. If you trust, buy."
The braided sister narrowed her eyes, but her hand drifted almost unconsciously to her satchel, where cryst-coins jingled faintly. She hesitated, then shook her head. "Too risky. No one even knows your name."
"That," Jade murmured, "is why they whisper."
They left without buying, but Jade watched the way they whispered to each other outside, eyes bright with curiosity despite their words. Rumors could cut both ways. Doubt bred fascination as easily as it bred disdain.
---
By evening, the whispers had grown.
"Child alchemist, selling forbidden brews."
"Void techniques in his cauldron—he'll curse your soul."
"Tier-3 potions at Tier-1 prices? Impossible. They're fakes, all of them."
And yet, beneath those murmurs, others:
"My neighbor's son drank one and hasn't coughed since."
"A Beta girl swore he saved her brother's lungs."
"If the Guild hates him, maybe that means he's worth it."
The city was divided. Jade could feel it in the way people looked at him when they entered—half reverence, half suspicion. And through it all, he remained calm, sitting behind his counter in blindfold and turtleneck, as though nothing outside the shop could touch him.
But he was not alone.
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Niamh stood in the upper balcony of the inn across the street, pale hands folded around the railing. Her ageless features were unreadable, grey and green hair pinned back with precision, her eyes sharp enough to cut. From her vantage, she had a clear view of the shop door, the stream of customers, the way Jade held himself like a quiet storm waiting for a reason to break.
She said nothing, but Gorvoth came to stand beside her. The old warrior's broad shoulders still carried the strength of decades, though his hair was streaked with white now. His voice was low, gravel roughened by years of command.
"You watch him too closely," he rumbled.
Niamh didn't look at him. "And you watch me."
Gorvoth chuckled softly, the sound lacking humor. "I remember that tone. The same one you used when we were younger. Before the War."
Her grip on the railing tightened, just for a breath. "That was a long time ago."
"And yet here we are again," Gorvoth said, eyes narrowing as he looked down at Jade's shop. "A child with power enough to stir the city. And you, cold as ice, pretending you don't care."
Niamh's lips pressed into a thin line. Her silence said more than words could.
---
Inside the shop, Jade felt the faint brush of familiar presences watching. He did not turn, did not betray that he knew. Niamh's gaze had always been a constant in his life, sharp and measured. Gorvoth's was newer but no less heavy. Their tangled past was none of his concern, though he could taste the tension between them like smoke in the air.
They have their ghosts. I have mine.
For now, his focus was on the Guild.
The subtle sabotage began two days later. A customer—a middle-aged Alpha with a neatly trimmed beard and the smug air of someone used to deference—collapsed just outside the shop after drinking one of Jade's potions. Bystanders cried out, rushing to help. The man foamed at the mouth, clutching his stomach, cursing Jade's name.
Jade was at his side in moments, blindfold dark against his pale skin, one hand pressed to the man's chest. A quick scan of his aura revealed the truth: a poison had been laced into the Alpha's system, one not from Jade's shop but planted beforehand.
Jade's eyes narrowed behind the blindfold. Crude. But effective for rumors.
He siphoned the toxin into his palm, crystallizing it into a shard of frozen black before letting it shatter harmlessly against the ground. The Alpha gasped, color flooding back to his cheeks, his rage melting into shame as realization dawned.
"You…" he whispered, trembling. "You saved me?"
"I saved myself," Jade corrected quietly, rising to his feet. "If you had died, the Guild would have blamed me. Next time, be wary of whose coin purses you trust."
The crowd murmured. Some looked at Jade with awe, others with suspicion. But the seed of doubt the Guild had planted grew, watered by fear and whispers.
---
That night, Jade sat alone in the shop after locking the doors. The city's neon glow filtered through the windows, painting stripes of violet and gold across the floor. He rested his chin on his hand, the blindfold shadowing his face.
So this is how they'll play it. Lies. Poisons. Smears. They think patience will grind me down. They think I am just a child to be crushed quietly in the dark.
He smiled faintly, cold as winter dawn. Let them try. The longer they play their game, the deeper the trap I can weave.
His Void Sense stirred again, stronger this time. Not whispers. Not ripples. A wave. Something was coming, heavier and darker, the Guild preparing to escalate beyond rumor and shadow.
Jade straightened, brushing back his silvery hair. His black turtleneck clung to him like a second skin, his blindfold gleaming faintly in the half-light.
The shop was silent. The city was restless. The storm was gathering.
And Jade was ready.
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Author San here ☺️
I hope it's better now folks
Let me know in the comments
Arigatou for reading 😊