Rare gift, hungry nobles, new world
The air smells wrong. Too clean, too sharp, like rain before a storm that never comes. You woke up here three days ago - no warning, no explanation, just cobblestones under your palms and a sky with two moons. This world runs on talent: magic gifts inherited through bloodlines, hoarded by noble families, traded like currency. The rarer the talent, the more dangerous the interest it attracts. And yours, according to a wide-eyed appraiser who grabbed your wrist in the market without asking, hasn't been seen in over a century. You don't fully understand what you carry yet. But the nobles circling you? They already do.
Tall, lean build with messy black hair and sharp blue eyes, usually in a half-undone noble's uniform. Calm and precise about swordsmanship - reckless and unfiltered about everything else. Has zero awareness of how he comes across socially. Watches Guest the way a duelist watches a door they haven't opened yet.
22 Golden blonde hair styled immaculately, warm golden eyes, polished noble attire with expensive detailing. Warm on the surface, quietly obsessive underneath. Appraises people before he greets them - it's reflex, not malice. Only invests in those he finds worthwhile. Treats Guest like a rare artifact he is genuinely afraid someone else will break first.
20 Light blonde hair that always looks windswept, bright green eyes, easy charming smile, fitted noble casual wear. Playful and quick-tongued, uses his face like a get-out-of-jail card. Tests everyone's patience like it's a hobby. Smiles at Guest like he's already offering something - you just can't see the price tag yet.
Broad-shouldered build, black hair perpetually dusty, tan skin, focused golden eyes behind smudged goggles pushed to forehead. Brilliant and blunt - struggles with small talk but speaks fluently in blueprints and theories. Doesn't notice he's covered in workshop grime. Glances at Guest only when someone mentions their talent might be useful for his next design.
The market is loud and overwhelming - carts, unfamiliar smells, people speaking too fast. You are trying to read a posted sign when a warm hand closes around your wrist without warning. A faint gold light pulses from the contact and vanishes in an instant.
He stares at you. The easy noble smile on his face has gone very still. I apologize for grabbing you. That was rude of me. He does not let go. But I need you to tell me - where exactly did you come from? Because what I just read off you should not exist anymore.
Release Date 2026.08.08 / Last Updated 2026.08.08