"How did you enjoy the book? Was it useful?"
The Veiled Lady asked in her usual soft, clear, casual tone.
Seated opposite her, Makun nodded. "Yes. Very useful. Everything I looked for."
"Good." She held his gaze. "Then you agree the book is valuable."
"Indeed. Very," Makun said.
"You know the rule." Her voice stayed light, but the meaning did not. "To gain something valuable, you give something valuable."
She paused. Looked at him deeply. Then continued.
"I hope I won't be disappointed."
The Veiled Lady was strategic. She did not threaten him directly. She did not raise her voice.
She used the book.
If Makun admitted the book had value, he admitted the debt had weight. If the debt had weight, then failing to pay it had consequences.
Makun understood that.
He had seen how the Night Market worked. Not the details, not the full system, but the shape of it. Transactions. Rules. Enforcement. People who smiled while they measured how much you were worth.
If he could not pay the price he promised, she had options.
Attack him.
Or report him.
Either way, he would not walk out of the market the same.
Makun considered her tone again. Soft. Clean. Casual.
He had learned to distrust that kind of softness.
From Old Town Plaza, he already knew she was selfish. She simply hid it well.
Because of his bad luck, Makun had been forced to learn things he never asked to learn. Reading people was one of them. It was not a hobby. It was a survival tool.
When he was younger, he cared deeply for people. Foster parents. Relationships. Friends.
Then he watched the pattern repeat.
By the third foster home, Makun already knew how it would end. Same with the relationships. Same with friendships when money entered the room, or fear, or embarrassment.
Humans were selfish by nature. They could not help it.
He had read studies once. Psychology. Evolutionary biology. Different fields pointing to the same conclusion.
Self-preservation first. Altruism second.
Kindness existed, but it was rare. It was never free. It often had a motive attached.
Recognition.
Reciprocity.
Relief from guilt.
The worst ones were the people who hid their motives. Those were the ones who smiled while they set you up.
For him, the Veiled Lady was an example of that type.
When Zack York attacked in the market, she could have intervened immediately. She could have stopped him at the beginning. She was superior to Zack from what Makun could tell.
But she did not.
She watched.
She waited.
She observed Makun. She observed Zack. She observed what Makun might be worth.
If the deal had not looked beneficial, she would have closed her eyes and let it happen. Makun knew that.
Right now, she asked about the book as if she cared about whether it helped him. But it was leverage. A quiet reminder.
Say it is valuable. Say it worked. Then admit you owe me.
Makun could not even blame her.
Who was he to criticize selfishness.
Wasn't he selfish too.
He was.
Maybe not originally. But circumstances trained him. Poverty trained him. Pain trained him. The kind of life he lived did not reward selflessness.
Selflessness was a trait he learned he could not afford. Every time he tried, it turned into a nightmare. He had helped a few people, and it ended in horrible ways.
So yes, he was selfish now.
He just did not lie to himself about it.
Why was Makun analyzing the Veiled Lady so carefully.
Because she was the only true contact he had made since entering this world. Zuri had pushed him away. Zack had tried to take what was his. Everyone else in the market looked like a predator hiding behind a hood.
If he wanted to survive, he had to understand how she operated.
"Worry not," Makun said. "I did not lie. The only thing is, I don't know how it works."
"You see that empty spot?" the Veiled Lady asked, pointing at the open space inside the container. "It is going to happen there."
She paused.
Then her voice shifted. Just slightly.
"Was it really as you said?" she asked. "Did you really meet a being in the condition you described?"
Excitement leaked into her tone.
Makun noticed it.
Ever since he entered this world of practitioners, one thing he had stayed was focused. Sharp. Always paying attention.
When Zuri accepted to help him, she gave him information he considered valuable. When he reached Old Town Plaza, he observed and memorized anything that looked important.
One thing that aligned with what Zuri said and what he saw at the market was the memory trade.
He saw someone buy a memory in exchange for natural lifespan. He still did not know what that meant. He did not understand how someone could trade years like coins.
But he remembered it.
If a market sold memories, then memories had value. If memories had value, then certain memories were priceless.
When the Veiled Lady was not satisfied with what Zack offered, Makun searched for what he could offer that Zack could not compete with.
That was when he thought of the Presence.
He was new. At the time, he knew nothing of Hollow Dwellers, Primordial beings, or any of the deeper terms he later read in the book.
But he knew what he felt.
He knew it was valuable.
The Presence had undone a chain he could not even perceive. That alone was a miracle, or a violation, or both. Something at that level could change a practitioner's route. It could change their comprehension. It could change their future.
Makun also knew the risk.
Exposing his secrets to an outsider was dangerous. It made him feel naked.
He did not know the Presence had already placed a veil over him. He did not know what had already been hidden.
So he made the choice anyway.
Why not propose it to her.
If she witnessed it, she would benefit. That was the only way this made sense.
When he spoke to her about it, she was astounded. Confused, but excited.
She believed him, but she doubted him too.
Why would someone so weak experience something like that and remain unscathed.
But she wanted it to be real. She wanted it badly.
Witnessing something like that could grant enlightenment. It could push her forward on her route. It could give her a foundation for future comprehension.
And it was not as if she was not planning to give the book out anyway. The book served a different purpose. Giving it away was part of the plan from the start.
"Sit there," she instructed.
Makun followed her lead and sat cross-legged in the middle of the container. The metal under him was cold through his pants.
The Veiled Lady stood.
Her movements were fluid. Controlled. Every step deliberate. No wasted motion.
She circled behind him. Her silver necklace chimed softly with each step. Then she lowered herself, sitting cross-legged behind him with the same effortless control.
Two hands placed on his back.
Her palms were flat against his shirt.
Cold.