June 21, 442 A.R. – Late Morning (Past Timeline)
Rei's eyes snapped open to sunlight streaming through his window.
Bright. Too bright. What time,
He grabbed his phone, fumbling with sleep-clumsy hands.
10:47 AM.
No. No, no, no,
He was supposed to be at Castell Trading Company at 8 AM. His first real day. His chance to prove he could handle merchant work.
And he'd slept through it.
Rei launched out of bed, adrenaline spiking through exhaustion. His body screamed in protest, barely three hours of sleep after the trauma of last night, but there was no time.
He threw on clothes, grabbed his jacket, and nearly fell down the stairs in his rush.
His mother looked up from her breakfast, startled. "Rei? What"
"Late for work. So sorry. Explain later", He grabbed a piece of toast off the table and was out the door before she could respond.
The run to the warehouse district was brutal. His legs burned. His lungs screamed. The training harness he'd forgotten to remove dug into his shoulders.
But beneath the physical pain was something else—the hollow numbness of someone who'd killed less than twelve hours ago and hadn't processed it yet. The compartmentalization Darius had described, happening automatically because his mind couldn't handle everything at once.
Function now. Process later. Survive first.
He reached Castell Trading Company at 11:23 AM, drenched in sweat, gasping for air.
The guards at the entrance looked at him with mixture of amusement and pity.
"You're the new kid, right?" one asked. "The one who's supposed to start today?"
"Yes. I'm— Rei bent over, trying to catch his breath. "I'm so sorry. I overslept. I know I'm late. Is Mirai Ms. Castell"
"She's in her office." The guard's expression was carefully neutral. "And she's been asking about you. Every fifteen minutes since 8:05. Good luck, kid. You're going to need it."
Rei climbed the stairs on shaking legs, each step a reminder of how badly he'd miscalculated. First impressions mattered in merchant circles. Reliability mattered. And he'd just proven he was neither reliable nor professional.
Survive a murder attempt. Kill your attacker. Process trauma. Blow your career opportunity.
What else can go wrong today?
He reached Mira Castell's office and knocked, preparing for justified anger.
"Enter."
He opened the door.
Mira sat behind her desk, hands folded, expression unreadable. The ledgers before her were open to today's date, appointments marked and crossed out. His name appeared at 8:00 AM with a heavy line through it.
"You're late," she said, her voice dangerously calm.
"I know. I'm"
"Three hours and twenty-three minutes late."
"Yes. I"
"On your first day."
Rei swallowed hard. "There's no excuse. I overslept. It won't happen again."
Mira leaned back in her chair, studying him with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "You look terrible. Like you haven't slept in days."
"Rough night," Rei admitted.
"Rough enough to cost you this opportunity?"
The question hung in the air, weighted with consequence.
Rei met her gaze directly. "I made a mistake. A serious one. I understand if you want to terminate this arrangement. But if you give me another chance, I will prove I'm worth the risk."
Mira was silent for a long moment, her fingers drumming against the desk.
"Sit down," she finally said.
Rei sat.
"I'm going to tell you something about merchant work," Mira began. "Reliability is everything. Trust is currency. When someone fails to show up, especially on their first day, it tells me they're either incompetent, disrespectful, or dealing with something that's going to make them a liability."
Rei nodded, accepting the assessment.
"Which one are you?" she asked.
"The third one," Rei said quietly. "Something happened last night. Something personal. It affected my sleep. That's not your problem, and I'm not asking for sympathy. But I'm telling you honestly: I want this opportunity. I need it. And I will not let you down again."
Mira studied him for another long moment.
"Everyone gets one mistake," she said finally. "One. You just used yours. The next time you're late, or unreliable, or let personal problems interfere with my business, you're done. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good." She pulled out a stack of documents. "Now let's see if you can actually do the work you promised you could handle. These are trade manifests from the last quarter. I need them cross-referenced with our inventory records. Discrepancies flagged. Analysis of which suppliers are reliable and which are padding their counts. Have it done by end of day tomorrow."
Rei took the documents, relief and determination warring in his chest. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Mira replied. "Prove you deserve the chance I just gave you."
He left her office with the manifests, found an empty desk in the corner of the warehouse's administrative area, and got to work.
The numbers helped. The methodical analysis. The clear, objective problems with definitive solutions.
It was easier than processing guilt. Easier than remembering Marcus's face. Easier than confronting what he'd become.
So Rei lost himself in merchant work, letting the spreadsheets and calculations drown out everything else.
Survive today. Deal with the consequences tomorrow.
Outside, the city moved through its rhythms, unaware that a boy who'd killed someone was sitting in a warehouse, analyzing trade manifests, trying desperately to build a future from the ashes of his past.
And somewhere in the shadows, other players were moving their pieces.
Watching.
Waiting.
Planning their own moves in a game Rei was only beginning to understand.