Rook moved silently through the crowded streets on the outskirts of the Great Forest, his sharp eyes scanning the market. This place, full of adventurers, merchants, and wanderers, had always been a prime hunting ground for a rogue like him. He had slipped through these roads countless times, making quick coin through cunning and sleight of hand. The adventurers passing through rarely missed a pouch or two of silver coins until they were far from town.
But today was different. Something in the air caught Rook's attention. His instincts—honed by years of surviving the underworld—sensed an odd shift. His gaze swept over the familiar stalls and shops, and that's when he spotted it: a small shop tucked away, one he hadn't noticed before. It seemed to have sprung up overnight, completely unremarkable, yet... different.
The sign above the door read The Modern Haven. Rook frowned. The name was unfamiliar, and the shop's simple appearance stood out among the loud, flashy vendors selling enchanted wares. He could feel his instincts pulling him toward it.
Curiosity killed the cat, he thought. But Rook was no ordinary cat. He survived by taking risks others wouldn't, and this shop practically begged to be investigated.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The shop was strangely quiet compared to the bustling market outside. The shelves were mostly bare, save for a peculiar row of red cans. They were too clean, too perfect for this world of rough wooden shops and rustic tools. Rook's eyes flicked over the young man behind the counter. The shopkeeper—Evan, as the sign behind him said—looked out of place too, with his nervous posture and hesitant smile. Definitely not a merchant used to the rough-and-tumble world of adventurers.
Rook's fingers twitched toward the hilt of his dagger. He didn't like being played for a fool, and this setup reeked of some kind of trickery.
He picked up one of the cans. Cola, it said. The metal was cool and smooth under his fingertips, nothing like the vials of potions or flasks he was used to seeing.
"What's this?" Rook asked, his voice low, eyes scanning the young man.
Evan swallowed hard, his nervousness showing. "That's… Cola," he stammered. "It's a rare, refreshing drink. Perfect for adventurers. You won't find it anywhere else."
Rook's eyes narrowed. He had heard lines like that before, from merchants and charlatans alike. His hand drifted instinctively to his dagger, the familiar weight of the blade comforting him.
"Rare, huh?" Rook murmured, placing the can down slowly. He pulled out his dagger and laid it on the counter, the cold steel glinting in the dim light. "I don't like liars, shopkeeper."
Evan's face paled as Rook tapped the blade on the counter. "If this drink doesn't do what you say… this dagger's going to find its way into your heart."
The shopkeeper froze, his eyes wide with fear. But then something shifted in his expression. The fear didn't leave his face, but there was a calm acceptance that seemed to settle over him. "I'm not lying," Evan said, his voice steadier than Rook expected. "This drink is something special. You won't regret it."
Rook studied him for a long moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. Either the boy was an excellent liar, or he truly believed what he was saying. Either way, Rook was curious. And in his world, curiosity was often the difference between profit and survival.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Rook sheathed his dagger and dropped a small pouch of coins onto the counter. "Equivalent to a silver coin," he said, his voice soft but firm. "For the drink."
Evan hesitated, then quickly slid a can of Cola toward him, his hands shaking slightly. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said, though his voice betrayed his nerves.
Rook picked up the can, staring at the strange metal surface. "How do you open it?"
The shopkeeper blinked, then seemed to remember that no one in this world would know what a soda can was. "Oh, right. Here, let me show you."
Rook handed the can back, watching carefully as Evan lifted a small metal tab on top. There was a soft pssht as the can opened, releasing a faint hiss of air. Rook's instincts flared—he half-expected the can to explode, or some kind of gas to knock him unconscious.
"That's it?" Rook asked, frowning. "It just hisses?"
"That's supposed to happen," Evan said quickly. "It's… part of the magic."
Rook raised the can cautiously to his lips and took a sip, ready for anything. The cold, fizzy liquid hit his tongue, and the taste was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Crisp, sweet, and refreshing, with a strange tingling sensation that spread through his mouth and throat. He blinked, momentarily thrown off by how… pleasant it was.
The liquid fizzed against his tongue, unfamiliar sensations dancing across his taste buds. Sweet, but with a bite that made his nose tingle. Then the effects hit.
The world sharpened. Colors intensified. His already keen senses heightened to new levels. Rook's fingers twitched with newfound energy as his mind raced through possibilities. He could scale the temple walls, pick any lock, thread a needle in the dark.
"What is this?" Rook muttered under his breath, staring at the can in disbelief. He had tasted enchanted potions before—potions of strength, vitality, even magic. But this was different. It wasn't just an energy boost. It was… cleaner, purer.
Evan was watching him carefully, waiting for his reaction.
Rook set the empty can down on the counter, his mind racing. "You were telling the truth, then," he said slowly, though his tone was more curious than accusatory now. "I'll remember this."
The shopkeeper let out a small breath of relief, nodding quickly. "Glad you liked it."
Rook chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Next time I'm in town," he said, turning toward the door, "you'd better have something even more impressive."
As he stepped outside, the cold air hit his face, but the effects of the Cola lingered. He felt sharper, more alert, as though his body had been reset. There was something undeniably magical about that drink—something the shopkeeper didn't fully understand.
Rook moved into the shadows of the street, his hood drawn low over his face as he disappeared into the crowd. His mind buzzed with possibilities. What if this drink could do more? What if it wasn't just a simple refreshment, but something with real power?
He slipped into a quiet alley, his fingers tracing the empty can still tucked into his cloak. What if the shopkeeper wasn't lying about the drink's potential… but was too clueless to realize its true effects?
One silver was steep for a drink, but for something that sharpened both mind and reflexes? Rook's lips curled into a smirk as he felt the energy still coursing through him. There was only one way to find out. He would test the drink's power for himself, push his limits, and see just how far it could take him.
The rogue's eyes glinted with mischief and a hunger for the unknown.