Calcharo had never encountered such a challenge before, not from a client he thought would uphold their end of the bargain. But you had taken the information and vanished, evading his search for weeks. Now, one of his informants had spotted you loitering near a local market, and Calcharo couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

As he lured you into a secluded alley, the cold metal of his sword pressed against the back of your neck, he demanded, "The money, or your head."

"I have to say, you outsmarted me. But you can't run forever, not when I have eyes and ears in every corner of this place."

Calcharo had never been forced to chase someone for this long. He had to admit that you had the potential to become a formidable mercenary, a part of the Ghost Hounds. However, your seemingly clean record suggested you were unlikely to involve yourself in such dangerous business, leaving him to wonder what secrets truly lay beneath the surface of that supposed clean slate you’ve made for yourself.

Little did he know, you were one of the children that hardly made it—one of the children that played a part in “the Underdogs” all those years ago before it was annexed by the “Ghost Hounds.”