Chapter 4: The Market Remembers

By the fourth day, people stopped pretending nothing was wrong.
Not openly.
Not loudly.
But in the way they paused.

Kaelira Voss noticed it before she even reached her stall.
The market was still crowded.
Still loud.
Still functioning.
But it wasn’t flowing the way it usually did.
Conversations stalled mid-sentence.
Buyers hesitated just a second too long before handing over coins.
Vendors repeated themselves more often.
“…No, I said it’s from the Fourth—no, listen—Fourth Floor—”
“I heard you the first time, I just don’t believe you.”
“That’s not my problem!”
“It becomes your problem when I don’t buy it.”
Kael walked past them without slowing.
Normal argument.
Different tone.
Less confidence.
More… doubt.

Her stall was untouched.
Good.
At least something still behaved predictably.
She set her things down and began arranging items out of habit more than need.
Left side—verified.
Right side—questionable.
The second pile was getting bigger.
She didn’t like that.

“You’ve got the same problem?”
Kael didn’t look up.
“Define problem,” she said.
The vendor from two stalls over leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“Things not matching what they’re supposed to be.”
Kael finally glanced at him.
“…You noticed?”
He gave her a flat look. “I’m not blind.”
“Debatable,” she muttered.
He ignored that.
“I sold three batches yesterday,” he said. “All came back this morning.”
Kael paused slightly.
“That’s unusual.”
“That’s expensive,” he corrected.
Fair.

She picked up a piece of cloth from her table, rubbing it between her fingers again.
Still wrong.
Still almost right.
“…How many?” she asked.
“Returns?”
“Yes.”
“Too many.”
Kael nodded once.
That matched what she was seeing.

The vendor hesitated, then added—
“You think it’s the climbers?”
“No,” Kael said immediately.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She set the cloth down.
“Because climbers lie for profit,” she said. “Not incompetence.”
“…That’s a strangely reassuring distinction.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Kael replied.

He left soon after.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t linger.
That, more than anything, confirmed it.
People were uneasy.
And uneasy people didn’t waste time.

By mid-morning, the shift became harder to ignore.
A woman raised her voice two stalls down.
“This isn’t what I paid for!”
“It is!” the vendor insisted. “Same as always!”
“No, it isn’t!” she snapped. “It doesn’t work the same!”
A small crowd formed.
Not curious.
Watchful.
Kael didn’t move closer.
She didn’t need to.
She could already guess how it would go.
Denial.
Argument.
Reluctant refund.
No answers.

“Busy day for disappointment,” Riven said, appearing beside her.
“You’re contributing to it just by being here,” Kael replied.
He leaned against her stall anyway.
“I heard complaints on the way in,” he said. “More than usual.”
“Define usual.”
“More than zero.”
Kael hummed softly.
That tracked.

Riven picked up one of the rejected items from her table.
“You’re still not buying these?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“Keep them separate.”
“For what?”
Kael paused.
Then shrugged slightly.
“…Pattern tracking.”
He blinked. “That sounds like effort.”
“It is,” she said. “I’m already unhappy about it.”

Another argument broke out nearby.
Then another.
Not loud enough to stop the market—
But frequent enough to disrupt it.
Like cracks forming under something that hadn’t broken yet.

Riven straightened slightly, glancing around.
“You feel that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Feels like something’s building.”
Kael crossed her arms.
“It feels like people are realizing they don’t know what they’re buying anymore.”
“That’s bad.”
“That’s very bad,” she agreed.

Because trust was currency here.
More valuable than coin.
And once it cracked—
Everything else followed.

A group of climbers passed through the market then.
Three of them.
Confident.
Unbothered.
The crowd reacted instantly.
Space opened.
Voices lowered.
Respect—automatic and unquestioned.
Kael watched it happen again.
Same as before.
Same as always.
Except—
One of the climbers stopped.
Picked up a metal piece from a nearby stall.
Turned it once.
Then frowned.
Just slightly.

Kael’s eyes narrowed.
That was new.

“What?” the vendor asked nervously.
The climber didn’t answer immediately.
He tested the metal—subtle, controlled.
Then set it back down.
“…Where did you get this?” he asked.
“F-Fifth Floor,” the vendor said.
The climber’s expression didn’t change.
But something in his posture did.
A fraction tighter.
“…Right,” he said.
Then he walked away.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t explain.
Didn’t buy.

The silence he left behind was heavier than any argument.

Riven exhaled quietly.
“That’s not good.”
“No,” Kael said.
“It’s not.”

Because climbers didn’t question materials in public.
They corrected.
They dismissed.
They moved on.
But they didn’t—
Doubt.

Kael looked down at her own table.
At the growing pile of “wrong” items.
Then back at the market.
At the arguments.
The hesitation.
The way people were starting to second-guess everything.

Something had changed.
Not suddenly.
Not violently.
But enough.

And no one knew why.

Kael leaned back in her chair again, expression settling into something neutral.
Controlled.
Untouched.
Like always.
But her fingers tapped once against the wood.
A small, restless motion.

“Still not your problem?” Riven asked quietly.
Kael didn’t answer immediately.
Her gaze drifted—just briefly—
Toward the Tower.

“…Not yet,” she said.