CHAPTER 5 — WHAT MEN DON'T SAY
The man didn't move first.
That was the first thing Leylin noticed. Most people filled silence without thinking. They rushed to speak, to assert, to control the space before it turned against them. This one didn't.
He stood there, cloth draped over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded in that same careless way, but nothing about his attention was careless. It was on Leylin. Measuring. Waiting.
Leylin didn't rush either. He turned fully, giving the man his attention, not out of politeness, not out of interest, but because the moment called for it.
Up close, the man looked the same. Round build. Relaxed posture. Slight smile that didn't commit to anything. But his eyes were sharper here. Cleaner. Not like the shop.
"Didn't expect you to wander in here," the man said, voice easy, like they were picking up a conversation they had never actually had. "Places like this don't usually pull in new faces."
Leylin said nothing.
The man watched him for a second longer, then clicked his tongue softly. "Quiet type, huh."
He shifted his weight slightly, enough to change the angle between them. Not closing distance. Not opening it either.
"Or maybe," he added, "you just don't like asking questions you don't understand yet."
Leylin's gaze held him. Still no reply.
The man huffed a short breath through his nose. "Fair enough."
Hestepped past Leylin, not brushing him, not testing him, just moving, then stopped beside a nearby table, resting his hand against it like he had all the time in the world.
"People come here for three reasons," he said, almost absently. "They want something they can't get outside.
They want something cheaper than it should be. Or they want something no one's supposed to have."
His eyes flicked back. "You don't look like the second type."
Leylin's voice came calm, even. "What does the first type look like?"
The man's smile shifted. Not wider. Sharper. "They don't ask."
Silencesettled. Not awkward. Just present.
Leylin stepped closer, not toward the man, but toward the table, his fingers brushing lightly against its edge, feeling the worn grain beneath them.
"Core test," he said. Not a question. Not a statement. Just placed.
The man didn't react immediately, but something in his posture changed. Small. Tightened.
"Ah," he said after a moment. "So that's where your head's at."
Leylindidn't look at him. "What does it decide?"
The man let out a slow breath. "You already heard the surface version. Where it forms. Abdomen. Heart. Mind. People love repeating that part."
Leylin's fingers tapped once against the wood. Light. Controlled. "And the rest?"
The man's gaze lingered on that small motion, then returned to Leylin's face. "…the rest," he said slowly, "is what people don't like saying out loud."
Hepushed himself off the table slightly, standing straighter now. "Where your core forms doesn't just decide how strong you can get. It decides what kind of strength you're allowed to have."
Leylin's gaze shifted just slightly. "Allowed."
The man nodded once. "Most people form it in the abdomen. Safe. Stable. Predictable. They live long enough. Get strong enough. Stay where they're supposed to stay."
His eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Heart types burn faster. Stronger. Less control. More problems."
Another pause. "And mind…" He stopped. Leylin looked at him fully. The man held that gaze for a second, then looked away first. "…mind types don't last."
Leylindidn't respond. He let the silence stretch. Then he said, "What happens if it doesn't form?"
That made the man still. Not visibly, but enough. His eyes came back slower this time. Measuring differently now. "…then you don't belong in the test," he said.
.
Leylin's expression didn't change. "And if I take it anyway?"
A beat. The man's lips pressed together faintly, then eased. "Then you either walk out with something you shouldn't have…" His gaze dropped briefly, then returned. "…or you don't walk out at all."
The noise of the place felt distant now. Muted. Leylin let that settle. Then his hand moved. A coin slid across the table. Not from a pocket. Just there.
The man's eyes flicked to it, then back up. "…so you're not just wandering," he muttered.
Another coin followed. Same motion. Same quiet certainty.
The man exhaled once. Longer this time. "…test isn't clean. Never was."
He leaned in slightly, voice lowering, not enough to hide it, just enough to shape it. "People don't just form cores.
The influence them."
Leylin's gaze sharpened. "How."
The man glanced around once. Not nervous. Careful. "Resources. Catalysts. Things that push your body one way or another before the test locks it in. Most of them aren't sold in places like this."
Leylin's fingers stilled. "Black channels."
The man gave a small, humorless smile. "You catch on fast."
Silence again. Then he asked, almost casually, "…you planning to try?"
Leylindidn't answer. Didn't confirm. Didn't deny. He just looked at him. That was enough.
The man studied him for a long second. Longer than before. Something in his expression shifted. Not amusement. Not curiosity. Something closer to caution. "…you're either very confident," he said quietly. A beat. "Or very unaware."
Leylin's gaze didn't move. The man held it, then let out a short breath. "…either way, this'll be interesting."
Leylin turned. Conversation over. He walked. No rush. No pause. Blending back into the flow of the space as if nothing had happened.
Behind him, the man didn't call out again. Didn't follow. He just watched. Longer than he should have. "…what the hell are you," he said under his breath. No one answered. Somewhere deeper in the market, something had already begun to move.