After lunch, a sense of unease settled over the room. People glanced at one another, awkwardly shifting in their seats, as if waiting for someone else to admit it first. The meal had been almost impossible to eat; bland, tasteless, like chewing on cardboard. Faces flushed with embarrassment as they struggled to finish what was on their plates, hoping no one noticed their discomfort.
Just then, a teacher stood up and broke the silence. "Once you're done eating, follow me," he said, his voice firm. "It's time to start the final stage of the competition."
The room buzzed with quiet murmurs. The air grew heavier, as if everyone realized this was the moment that truly counted. The teacher's next words hit like a hammer. "You've all experienced how demanding this competition is. If anyone feels they're not up for the final stage, now is your chance to leave."
Almost immediately, about 20 students stood up and began to walk out. Some hesitated, but their resolve was clear. Among them was Oliver, who had been on the verge of giving up himself. He'd come this far mainly to keep up appearances. While others had quietly taken supplies, Oliver hadn't taken anything at all. It was too risky to stand out like that.
Maybe it's time to quit, he thought, his mind already racing ahead to solving his identity issues now that he had enough money. But something made him pause. The image of the person he had seen earlier, sitting in the car, lingered in his thoughts. A rare smile crept onto his face as he imagined Black Crow in trouble. If there was a chance to see that unfold and maybe even lend a hand, then perhaps sticking around wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Good," the teacher said as the remaining students stayed in place. "Recognizing your own limits is the first step toward improvement. I don't blame those who left."
His tone shifted to something more serious. "For those of you still here, listen carefully. The dean didn't explicitly say this, but you're allowed to form teams. No more than five people per team. You'll need to figure out your own groups. And if you decide to quit later, just come find us. Now, disband!"
Chaos erupted. Around 70 students were left, and they scattered in every direction like shoppers at a market. Some wanted to go solo; others were already huddling together, trying to figure out who to trust.
Lesley looked at the others in his group. "How about we stick together?" he suggested, his eyes scanning their faces for agreement.
"I think it's necessary," Chris said with a nod. "We won't last long alone."
Enola echoed the sentiment. "It's safer in numbers."
All eyes eventually fell on Oliver. He'd been distant for most of their time together, even after four long days in close quarters. No one knew where he stood.
Oliver gave a slight nod. "Alright." His calm, unexpected response eased the tension in the group. The others visibly relaxed.
Going solo would just draw too much attention, he reasoned inwardly.
"Great! Now, we need to think about how we're going to survive," Chris said, cutting straight to the point. "We need money, and more importantly, we need a place to stay tonight. We can't just sleep on the streets, especially since we have a girl with us."
Lesley stepped forward with a plan. "We'll split up. I'll go with Sandra. Chris, you team up with Enola. We'll all search in different directions to see if there's any way to make some money or find shelter."
"When do we meet back up?" someone asked.
"By sunset," Lesley replied.
"Got it."
With that, the group parted ways, each pair heading off with a determined stride. But Oliver had his own agenda. As he walked off in one direction, his mind wasn't focused on earning money the honest way. He was more interested in the businessmen who had already made plenty.
He slipped into a secluded alley, pulling a mask over his face and a robe over his clothes.
---
In a dimly lit shop tucked away from the busy streets, Oliver approached a thin, sharp-eyed merchant. The man squinted, sizing him up. "What've you got to sell me?" His tone was skeptical, clearly not expecting much from Oliver.
With a sly smile, Oliver reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of ripe, glistening fruits. He placed them on the counter with a flourish. "These."
The merchant's eyes widened, though he tried to mask his surprise. The fruits were nothing special at first glance, ordinary and cheap in most places. But in this city, things were different.
The Black Crows controlled everything, including the teleportation portal. Most goods had to be transported the old-fashioned way, by horse-drawn carriages. These particular fruits, however, spoiled quickly, making it nearly impossible to get them fresh unless you were close to the source. And the nearest cultivated areas were far, far from here.
Oliver leaned in, lowering his voice. "I think you'll find these are worth a lot more than you'd expect."
Thanks to the sharp eyes of his bird soaring high in the sky, Oliver quickly located the fruit he needed. In a world like this, scarcity was king. Anything that was hard to come by became valuable, sometimes even priceless.
As he approached the merchant, he casually took out one of the fruits and tossed it over. The merchant caught it, his expression shifting from skepticism to surprise as he examined the fruit.
"So, how much are you willing to pay?" Oliver asked, his tone nonchalant but purposeful.
The merchant, clearly intrigued but trying to maintain his composure, replied cautiously, "That depends. How do you want to handle this? How much are you asking?"
"Five gold coins for a bag?" Marchant suggested, a faint smile playing on his lips as if he wasn't too serious about the offer.
The merchant hesitated. He knew a lowball when he saw one. Oliver, on the other hand, didn't wait for a reply. He turned and started to walk away, his footsteps slow and deliberate, knowing the merchant would chase him with a better deal. This was a game, and Oliver was an expert.
"Ten?" the merchant called out, a little more urgently this time.
Oliver kept walking, his back turned, showing no interest in the offer.
"Fifteen?" The merchant's voice wavered, his desperation starting to show.
Without even glancing back, Oliver approached the door, his hand already resting on the handle, as if he was ready to walk straight out and take his business elsewhere.
"Twenty?" The merchant's voice cracked, a trace of panic setting in as Oliver appeared to ignore him completely. He could see the young man was serious about leaving, and losing such a deal would sting more than his pride.
Just as Oliver took a step toward the shop across the street, the merchant's voice rang out again, this time with an air of finality, "Thirty!"
Oliver paused, his foot still mid-air. The merchant's voice had shifted, from questioning to desperate certainty. He was no longer bargaining. He was making a firm offer.
"Thirty gold coins for one fruit," the merchant said again, his teeth gritted in frustration, but his eyes gleaming with the understanding that he was buying something rare.
Oliver turned around, his expression calm, as though this had been the price he intended all along. "Deal."
With a smooth motion, he upended his bag, letting the fruits spill out onto the merchant's counter. There were eight of them in total. Outside of this city, these fruits would fetch no more than a few copper coins. But here? They might as well have been treasures.
The merchant didn't hesitate. He handed over a bundle of ten gold coins at a time, eventually piling twenty-four bundles in front of Oliver. The sight of so much gold would have made most men's eyes widen in greed, but Oliver remained calm, almost detached.
If only the coins weren't so filthy, he mused to himself. I'd almost consider staying here and opening a shop of my own.
After leaving the store, Oliver moved cautiously, ensuring no one was following him. He slipped into a quiet alley, away from prying eyes. Once there, he removed his mask and robe, taking out a match and setting them both aflame. The paper mask and flammable robe caught quickly, burning away in moments. He had no desire to leave any trace of his disguise behind, especially when dealing with something as valuable as the fruit.
As the fire smoldered and died, Oliver felt a small surge of satisfaction. He wasn't worried about the merchant coming after him. The man was smart enough to know that the fewer people who knew about this deal, the better it was for him. A businessman like that preferred to "eat alone."
Once Oliver was sure his tracks were clean, he made his way to the local money exchange, trading his large stack of gold coins for two coins emblazoned with a full crow emblem and four more marked with a half-crow. After disposing of the remnants of his disguise, he set off toward the gathering place.
---
When Oliver arrived, the scene was grim. Lesley sat slumped on the ground, Sandra resting tiredly on his lap. The other two, Chris and Enola, sat back-to-back on the cold ground, their faces weary with defeat.
The harsh reality of the city had hit them hard. Most people could barely earn a single gold coin in a day of honest work. But working for the Black Crow gang? That was different. One quick trip for them in the morning and another in the evening could net someone at least twenty gold coins, sometimes more if the leader was in a good mood. For some, earning hundreds of gold coins in a single day wasn't just a dream, it was their reality.
But that kind of luck wasn't meant for just anyone. As the gang's power grew, they stopped hiring helpers altogether. Businesses, desperate to please the Black Crow leaders, were more than willing to pay top coin for skilled, trusted workers. The rest, the clumsy and inexperienced, were left behind.
"Who needs amateurs when you can afford the best?" Lesley muttered bitterly. "No one's going to risk hiring someone like us. It's too easy to scare off customers, and no shop would survive that kind of loss."
He wasn't wrong. Any business foolish enough to gamble on low-skilled workers would have shut down long ago. In this city, there were only two choices: adapt or get out. Those who couldn't survive here had no place left to go.
As Oliver joined them, the others barely acknowledged his presence, too wrapped up in their own thoughts. They weren't thinking about escape or survival anymore. What mattered now was how many gold coins they could earn before the sun set and how long they could last before their luck ran out. Even as their homes overflowed with gold, it was never enough.