Carlyle thumped his cane on the floor, the sharp sound cutting through the room to get everyone''s attention. "What do you think? Is it worth one favor?"


    Rory crossed her arms, her voice tinged with skepticism. "Of course not. He''s asking us to kill hunters in such a public setting. That''s why he promised me he''d count it as two favors paid from me."


    Carlyle prided himself on his information network. He knew everyone in the room to some degree. Rory had a reputation for being honest, which was rare in their line of work. Despite her straightforwardness, she was more involved in the retail side of the hunter world, so it was unusual for her to appear personally on a job like this.


    Grue, leaning back in his chair, added with a casual shrug, "He also promised to count out two favors for this job."


    "Well," Henry chimed in, "I only owe the man one favor. If I do this, he''ll owe me one." He cracked his knuckles with a small grin playing on his face at the thought.


    Carlyle tapped his cane thoughtfully. "Same here, but he didn''t offer me anything extra or sweeten the deal."


    "Maybe you pissed him off," Rory said with a smirk, not missing the chance to needle him.


    Carlyle huffed, straightening his suit. "Doubt it. He''s too focused on this mission to hold grudges. I could tell. Besides, he needs me." He paused, his eyes sweeping the group. "Still, this job... it''s big. If we''re going to do it, we''d better be sure we''re getting something worth the risk."


    There was a buzz in Carlyle’s breast pocket. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the plans that had just arrived. The others did the same, their attention now fully on the specifics of the mission.


    Rory let out a low whistle, the kind that signaled surprise and a bit of interest. "Three confirmed hunters and possibly a few unnamed. Hmm... looks like we’ll need costumes too. I’ll be a waitress." She smirked, already visualizing her role.


    Henry snorted. "And I’m going to be a valet." He cracked his knuckles. "Kill anyone who tries to escape."


    Grue remained silent, his eyes scanning the details of the plan with the same detached expression he always wore. He didn’t need to say much. His presence alone signified agreement.


    Carlyle studied the plan further, noting the careful layers and contingencies. He closed his phone with a quiet snap, addressing the room. "I see why my work for this job is worth a single favor now." He tapped his cane lightly on the floor. "I won’t be in the thick of it—no direct risk. I’ll be positioned on the floor above the gala, my job is to block off the exits. Simple, clean. My disguise? Just another businessman looking for a hotel room to crash in."


    Rory beamed as she snapped her flip phone shut and tucked it away. “Thankfully, I won’t be doing any killing. Just lacing the food with sleeping agents, enough to knock out even hunters.”


    Carlyle nodded, quietly acknowledging the danger of working with someone like Rory. Poison users were unpredictable, and he made a mental note to tread carefully around her. People like Rory didn’t need brute strength to be lethal.


    Grue spoke up, his voice steady but cold. “Once everyone’s knocked out, the Author will handle the killing himself. I’m just here to bodyguard him.”


    Henry’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Oh shit, it is personal, isn’t it?” he nearly shouted.


    The Author… or "Rey" as he preferred to be called, had risen to fame quickly in the past two years, renowned for his unusual system of never accepting money as an information broker. Instead, he dealt only in favors or information of equal value. Carlyle had initially found the name "Author" to be presumptuous, even arrogant. But now, seeing how Rey orchestrated this entire operation, he understood why the man dared to take such a title.


    “What do you think his aura type is?” Rory asked, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward.


    “You do know as professionals, we shouldn’t pry into our client’s personal affairs, right?” Grue admonished, his tone stern, though not surprised at Rory’s nosiness.


    Henry, never one for restraint, chipped in. “My bet’s a Reader. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”


    Carlyle nodded slightly, sharing Henry''s theory. It lined up. For someone who worked alone, gathering and selling information on the Hunter’s Net, and for his ability to predict and manipulate situations, a high-level Reader seemed the most plausible. Carlyle tapped his cane against the floor thoughtfully. “Yes, a Reader does fit. Someone like him, with a limited or rare type, especially at a high level... it makes sense. That’s why the name ‘Author’ is starting to make more sense to me now.”


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The others looked at Carlyle as he spoke, sensing his deeper understanding. Rey wasn’t just some upstart broker. He was someone who saw the world like a story, controlling the flow of events like an author writing the chapters of a book. And right now, they were all part of his latest narrative.


    Carlyle didn’t mind, not as long as the favor he owed would be squared by the end of the night. But there was something about Rey that made him think—this was not just a one-off job.


    “Anyone heard of the name ‘Elsewhere Cult’?” Carlyle asked, his brow furrowing in frustration. “No matter what, I can’t find anything on them. That’s rare even for me, and I’ve got a lot of friends.”


    Henry shook his head. “Never really tried, but yeah, I got nothing.”


    Grue leaned back in his seat, arms crossed as he spoke, “I took a job for them once, but it never panned out. Private bounty on Leora the Bright.”


    Carlyle raised an eyebrow. “I thought she was retired.”


    “She is,” Grue said, his voice edged with frustration. “But the job was stolen from me.”


    Henry sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m not really keen on the Hunter News, but last I heard, some crazy whackjobs called the Undead Troupe started showing up.”


    At the mention of the Undead Troupe, Grue’s aura darkened. He snarled, “They’re the ones who stole the job from me. Tried to recruit me afterward too, but I gave them the middle finger. Had to run the gauntlet against them once, and I almost didn’t make it.”


    Carlyle’s eyes narrowed at Grue’s words. The Undead Troupe had been making waves recently, their fame almost as fresh as the Author’s. “So we pretty much know nothing about the Elsewhere Cult?” Carlyle concluded, his tone more resigned than he liked.


    Rory, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. “Sounds like the kind of group that works in the shadows, pulling strings where we can’t see them. Probably by design.”


    Carlyle tapped his cane thoughtfully against the floor. A group that even his network couldn''t crack was dangerous, and it worried him.


    And if the Author’s got a grudge against them… Carlyle thought, tapping his cane rhythmically, then yeah, it probably wouldn’t be a one-off job.


    Henry broke the silence first, shrugging casually. “As long as we’re not killing mundanes, I’m pretty much okay with anything.”


    Rory grinned, teasing him. “Oooh, we’ve got a hunter with a code. Don’t worry, they’ll probably be asleep by the time the killing starts. But if a fight breaks out, I can’t make any promises. I’m just a lowly herbalist, after all.”


    Grue cracked his knuckles, his voice low and dangerous. “If a fight starts, I’ll aim to kill them in one blow. No loose ends.”


    Carlyle eyed Grue for a moment. He had no doubt the man could back up his words. Grue wasn’t the type to play around, especially with high-stakes jobs like this. The idea of taking out hunters—people as skilled and dangerous as they were—didn’t sit easily with Carlyle, but favors were favors, and the Author had always paid his debts.


    “I’ll be ready,” Carlyle finally said, glancing at the others. “No direct risk for me, but I’ll keep the exits blocked. If things go sideways, don’t expect me to stick around for cleanup. I’ll have the barriers up as fast as I can, but once they’re in place, I’m out.”


    Rory stretched her arms over her head. “Fine by me. I just hope Rey doesn’t get too trigger-happy. Poison’s no fun when someone messes up my timing.”


    Henry smirked. “As long as the sleeping agents work, you won’t have to worry.”


    Carlyle shifted his weight, gripping the head of his cane tighter. “Let’s hope everything goes according to plan. But something tells me this job’s going to be more than we bargained for.”


    The room fell silent again. There was a shared understanding between them. They were professionals, but even professionals could get caught in the crossfire of something bigger than themselves.


    Rory stood up abruptly. “I need to get my costume and infiltrate an hour earlier.”


    “Same here,” added Henry as he followed her lead.


    The two hunters left the room, leaving Carlyle and Grue behind. Carlyle leaned back in his chair, his mind on something else entirely. He turned to Grue, a hunter renowned for his anonymity and lethal reputation in the hunter world—a Trickster-type, known for his combat prowess, which was rare for his class.


    “What do you think of Rey? His aura?” Carlyle asked, hoping to get some insight from someone as sharp as Grue.


    Grue took a moment before replying. “Too subdued. You’d almost think he was a mundane. If it was some sort of technique, I couldn’t tell. It looked too natural. For a second, I thought he might be a Trickster like me. Aura suppression is more our thing anyway.”


    Carlyle, intrigued, pressed further. “How about any signs of training?”


    Grue shook his head. “None. His stance was off—poor, even. Or maybe he was faking it. But he’s built, I’ll give him that. I could tell he’s killed a man before. My special ability... it lets me know these things. Of course, I’d ask you not to mention that to anyone. Normally, if someone’s hiding their aura, you need to get close, maybe touch them, to figure out if they’re an aura user. But with Rey, even if you touched him, you’d mistake him for a mundane. Unless you’re a Tracker sub-type, you’re as good as uncertain.”


    Carlyle raised an eyebrow. “That’s high praise coming from you.”


    Grue leaned back as he spoke. “You’ve asked your questions. Now, you owe me a favor.”


    Carlyle sighed, knowing this was coming. “As long as it isn’t excessive, I’ll do it.”


    Grue’s tone didn’t change, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Introduce me to your information brokers. Good ones, who accept money as payment. If I keep using the Author’s services, I’ll be in his debt for the next ten years.”


    Carlyle gave a wry smile. “Sure, I can do that.”


    For a consultation with someone as elusive as Grue, that was a rather fair price.