Seth stepped out of the fake pawnshop, the heavy suitcase feeling both like a treasure and a curse.
He paused in the alley, popped the latches just enough to slip his hand inside, and pulled out a single, crisp hundred-bathala bill.
Closing the case, he walked back toward the prostitute with the thick makeup, who was still leaning against the brick wall, her hope visibly fading as the day wore on.
He stopped in front of her and casually tossed the bill. It fluttered down, landing near her worn-out shoes.
She stared at the money, then back at him, a confused but intrigued look on her face.
A slow, mischievous smile spread across her lips.
"Changed your mind, handso?"
She asked, her voice regaining so of its earlier raspy charm.
Seth shook his head.
"No. I want to hire you for a different kind of job."
The woman’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a wary suspicion.
She eyed him up and down, then looked away, crossing her arms defensively.
"Look, the only job I do is selling my dignity. That’s it. I don’t run ssages, I don’t steal, and I don’t like getting involved in violent things. I’ve had enough trouble for one lifeti."
"I can see that."
Seth said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
He wasn’t trying to be cruel, just honest.
"But you’re getting older. How much longer will your... dignity... sell for a hundred bathalas a night? A year? Two? What happens after that?"
His words hung in the dirty air, a harsh truth she faced every day.
She looked down at her shoes, her shoulders slumping.
Seth continued.
"I’m offering you a different kind of work. A hundred bathalas every single week. And don’t worry, it won’t involve anything dangerous like what you’re thinking."
The woman was silent for a long mont, the struggle clear on her face.
A steady inco was a dream she’d given up on long ago.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes narrowed.
"What kind of job?"
She asked, her voice low and serious.
"Let’s find a proper place to talk first."
Seth said, gesturing for her to follow him out of the alley.
He led her to a small, clean cafe a few streets over.
The mont they stepped inside, the woman, whose na he learned was Matilda, grew visibly nervous.
She clutched her thin shawl tightly, her eyes darting around at the simple wooden tables and the other custors.
She looked utterly out of place.
A young waiter ca over.
Seth, trying to be quick, initially just ordered two small pastries and a drink.
But seeing how thin Matilda was, and how she stared at the nu with a kind of hungry longing, he changed his mind before the waiter could leave.
"Actually..."
Seth said as the water stopped.
"We’ll also have two bowls of the beef stew, a plate of roasted potatoes, and two cups of your spiced tea."
When the waiter left, Matilda looked at him, her tough exterior softening just a little.
"Thank kid."
She said quietly, her voice losing its rasp.
"It’s been a long ti since I’ve been in a place like this. A comfortable place."
She ran a hand over the smooth surface of the table as if she couldn’t believe it was real.
"It’s just a cafe."
Seth said gently, trying to put her at ease.
"To you, a rich youngster, maybe."
She replied, offering him a small, genuine smile that for a mont smoothed away the wrinkles of hardship around her eyes.
"To , it feels like a grand luxury."
She took a slow breath, seeming to relax for the first ti, her shoulders dropping from their defensive hunch.
She ran a hand over the clean, polished wood of the table as if it were a precious artifact.
The food arrived—the hearty stew, the golden potatoes, the spiced tea steaming in its cups.
Matilda stared at it, her eyes wide, before she began to eat with a quiet, focused intensity that spoke of many missed als.
Seth glanced at her as he scanned her appearance in detail.
The thick makeup couldn’t completely hide the sharpness in her eyes, a leftover hint of a quick mind.
The cheap perfu and makeup was a shield, but beneath it, he could still see the outline of soone who used to be proud.
He decided to cut straight to job he wanted to offer her.
"I want you to keep an eye on the visitors who co to that fake pawnshop."
Seth said quietly, leaning forward.
"Rember their faces, how they act, what they bring, what they take. Anything you notice should be written down."
Seth continued, his tone calm
"Other than that, I want all kinds of information about the organizations around Matamisan City. From covens, gangs, and even towards governnt organizations. It doesn’t matter if it’s general knowledge or rumors, I want all of them."
She frowned slightly, leaning back in her seat.
"And what do you plan to do with all that?"
Seth didn’t answer directly.
"You don’t have to worry about that. Just make sure the details are correct. Can you read and write?"
Matilda looked at him with faint offense.
"Of course I can. I might look like trash now, but I wasn’t always this way."
Seth blinked, caught off guard.
"You didn’t continue receiving education?"
She gave a dry chuckle.
"Most people think won like never touched a book. But once upon a ti, I used to live inside them."
He leaned back, studying her more closely.
"Alright, sorry for my stereotypical and biased views."
Matilda scoffed at his words as Seth continued to speak.
"I’ll buy you paper and a pen later then. You can write down everything I requested there."
"Although... I’m surprised you’re literate, do you mind telling more about you?"
He then asked.
Matilda blinked, her hand pausing mid-sip.
"About ?"
She let out a short, dry laugh.
"What’s there to say? I sell what I can to live another day. That’s the whole story."
Seth didn’t reply.
He just looked at her with a quiet, patient expression that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat.
She sighed, the sound heavy with resignation, and set her cup down.
"You’re not gonna let that slide, are you?"
She muttered.
"Not really."
Seth replied, his voice calm.
"Besides, It’s normal to want to know the person I’m trying to work with."
"Fine."
She said, her gaze drifting to the window beside them.
The glass was fogging slightly from her breath.
"You ever had everything going right for you? I an, everything. And then you realize it only takes one wrong step, one mont of bad judgnt, to lose it all?"
He didn’t answer.
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