Sylvain navigated the narrow streets of Steelgate, the air thick with soot and despair. The slums sprawled like a festering wound across the city's underbelly, where grime-streaked children played with broken toys, and hollow-eyed workers shuffled past with bent backs and calloused hands. This was the heart of the world the Houses had created—a city drained of hope and purpose, reduced to gears in their grand machine.His breath misted in the cold air as he moved through the winding alleys, avoiding the main roads patrolled by the ever-watchful enforcers. He needed a map—a key to the labyrinth beneath Steelgate. He was here for an old contact from his past lives, someone who once traded in more than just books.The library—if it could even be called that—was tucked away in a decrepit building, its facade crumbling and its windows fogged with grime. Lucas, the man who ran it, was a ghost from Sylvain's memories of previous loops. In those timelines, Lucas had been a quiet revolutionary and a cautious ally, trading in banned books and forbidden knowledge. But in this timeline, Lucas didn't know him. Sylvain would have to earn his trust from scratch.Sylvain knocked four times—a code to distinguish friends from enforcers. The door creaked open a fraction, revealing Lucas's lined face, his sharp eyes scanning Sylvain from head to toe."You're too clean," Lucas muttered, his voice edged with suspicion. He kept one hand near a concealed compartment beneath his desk.Sylvain stepped into the cramped, book-filled den, the air heavy with the smell of dust and old parchment. Lucas turned sharply, his gaze narrowing beneath bushy brows."Who sent you?" he asked, his tone sharp as steel."I came alone," Sylvain replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.Lucas scoffed. "Alone?" Lucas scoffs. He leans back in his chair, but his fingers hover close to a very traditionally styled energy handgun hidden beneath the cluttered desk. " You don't look like someone who wanders the slums for fun. What do you want, boy?""I want knowledge," Sylvain said, his voice calm but weighted with the burden of countless timelines. "And I know you can help me."Lucas studied him for a long moment, his sharp gaze probing. "You're Flamesworth, aren't you?" He spat the name like venom. "What's an aristocrat's brat doing crawling through Steelgate, asking questions he shouldn't?""I'm not like them," Sylvain replied evenly.Lucas's laugh was humorless. "You look like hot money. Smell like it, too. Maybe you're here to report me. Turn me in for trading banned knowledge.""If I wanted you dead, you'd already be gone." The words slip out before Sylvain can stop them, colder than he intended, and Lucas stiffens. Sylvain exhales softly, lowering his voice. "You can let go of your gun Lucas... I'm not your enemy. I promise you that."Lucas's eyes narrow further, but something in Sylvain's tone—a quiet desperation, a thread of truth—makes him pause. "Gave me the chills there , boy. But you sound honest. that's what makes it worse. You don't sound like them. You..." He trails off, leaning forward. His gaze sharpens, scrutinizing the boy before him.Lucas finally says, his voice softer now. "Your eyes... they've seen things. They're too old for your face. And they look deeply determined, boy. Like someone ready to set something right or maybe the other way around...""I need a map of Steelgate's underground passages," Sylvain said, his tone steady. "And those leading to the Houses castles,you have them."Lucas froze mid-motion, his expression darkening. "You're either mad or looking to get someone killed," he said sharply. "Do you have any idea what you're asking for, boy? If this falls into the wrong hands, it could burn me—and everyone connected to me—to ash.""I know the risks," Sylvain replied. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't need it."Lucas scrutinized him, his suspicion palpable. "Need it for what? No one walks into Steelgate's belly unless they're desperate—or suicidal. And if you think I'd trust a clean-scrubbed boy who reeks of the upper districts, you've got another thing coming.""I know what you risked to save what they tried to erase—the books, the knowledge," Sylvain said, his voice soft but firm. "I know you see the rot beneath their polished surface. That's why I came to you."Lucas hesitated, his sharp eyes scanning Sylvain's face. Finally, he sighed and leaned back. "Alright, boy. You'll get your map. But if this comes back to bite me..." He leveled Sylvain with a sharp look. "Don't expect me to go quietly."Sylvain nodded. "If it comes to that, I'll make sure you don't have to worry about the noise."Lucas reached for a drawer and pulled out an old, rolled-up parchment. He paused, his expression darkening. "You know... only one other person's ever asked me for this."Sylvain's interest piqued. "Who?""A man from the deep slums," Lucas said, his voice lowering. "Didn't give me his name, but he wore a crimson mask with an hourglass scratched into it. Him and his team stormed in here like they owned the place. Took a copy of the maps without hesitation. Left gold coins like it was a transaction."Sylvain's jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his expression neutral. "Did he say what he wanted the maps for?"Lucas shook his head. "Men like that don't leave explanations. Just fear in their wake. You remind me of him in a way, though you're less... threatening."Sylvain took the map, his voice steady. "Thank you. For trusting me, even a little.""Don't thank me yet," Lucas grumbled. "Just remember: you're not the first, and you won't be the last. But you might be the one who brings the storm to my door."Later that evening, Sylvain returned to his room, exhaustion tugging at his every step. The events of the day replayed in his mind as he shut the door behind him. River, his black cat, greeted him with a soft meow, leaping onto the desk as Sylvain slumped into his chair."It's done," Sylvain said, stroking River's head. "I have the map."River tilted her head, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light."But there's something else," Sylvain murmured. "Someone else. The crimson mask. Lucas said he took a copy of the same map. A man with a team, moving with purpose."River chirped softly, as if urging him to continue."Who is he, River?" Sylvain whispered, scratching behind her ears. "What's he planning?"The cat purred, her presence a small comfort in the swirling uncertainty. Sylvain's gaze drifted to the map on his desk, his determination hardening."The crimson mask..." he murmured. "I'll find him. And when I do, I'll decide if he's an ally—or just another piece of the game I'll have to break."The room fell quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of River's purring. Sylvain sat alone, the faint stirrings of momentum building within him—the gears of change beginning to turn.