"You're late."
The Broker didn't look up from the ledger when Jaehyuk sat down.
The private booth was tucked behind the third vendor row, half hidden by hanging cloth and the smell of fried oil. Loud outside. Quiet here. Quiet enough to hear the paper slide under the Broker's fingers.
Jaehyuk glanced at the plate in front of him. Cold dumplings. Untouched.
"You said ten minutes," he said.
"You took eleven."
"That's a tragic difference."
That got the smallest curve of a mouth. Not quite a smile.
Somin stayed by the curtain, arms folded. She didn't sit. Didn't relax. Her eyes kept moving, cutting through the booth, the ledger, the Broker's long gloves, the cup of tea gone lukewarm at the rim.
"I still don't like this," she said.
"Noted," the Broker replied. "Your suspicion has excellent timing."
Jaehyuk studied them.
Same calm. Same precise voice. They looked ordinary in the way a blade looked ordinary when it was sheathed. Dark coat. Clean cuffs. No guild badge. No rank marker visible anywhere. And yet they were sitting here like the Lobby belonged to them.
That was the problem.
The Broker slid the ledger closed with two fingers. "You caused a small amount of trouble on Floor 2."
"Small?"
"Relative. The Tower dislikes relativity. It prefers patterns. You broke one."
Jaehyuk kept his face still. Inside, something went cold.
The Broker knew about Floor 2. About the wolf. About the wall.
Not guesswork. Not rumor.
"Who are you?" Somin asked.
"A bad investment, if you're asking for personal details."
"I'm asking what you are."
The Broker turned their tea cup once, slowly. The ceramic gave a faint scrape against the table.
"That depends on the iteration," they said. "And on who is asking."
Somin's posture changed. Not much. Just enough.
Jaehyuk noticed it. So did the Broker.
"You speak like you know the word too well," Jaehyuk said.
"I know many words too well. That is the trade."
"Iterations," Jaehyuk said. "You said it like it was normal."
"It is normal here. For some of us."
For some of us.
Not a regressor. Not exactly.
He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected was the ease. No hesitation. No false confusion. The Broker said it the way a merchant said grain prices.
Somin leaned a shoulder against the curtain pole. "Are you another regressor?"
"No."
Too fast.
The Broker's answer landed clean, almost amused. "If I were, I wouldn't charge this much."
Jaehyuk tapped his thumb against his index finger. Once. Twice.
The Broker's gaze flicked to the movement.
Interest. Recognition. Not surprise.
That was worse.
"You know me," Jaehyuk said.
"I know a version of you. Several, in fact."
The tea in the cup smelled faintly of chrysanthemum and metal. Old Lobby air. Dust ground into stone. Human bodies packed too tightly in a place pretending to be neutral.
"How many?" Somin asked.
"Enough to know which questions lead nowhere."
"Try me."
The Broker looked at her for a beat. Measured. Then nodded once, as if granting a clerical exception.
"You have a healer's instincts," they said. "Good. You'll need them. No, I am not one of the regressors. I did not die and return. I did not wake up with a second chance and a headache."
"Then what?" Jaehyuk said.
The Broker rested one gloved hand on the ledger. "I serve the same economy as everyone else. Information. Access. Timing. The Tower has functions. Markets. Gates. Rooms that open only when the right sort of person asks the right sort of question. I am close to those things."
Not an answer. Close enough to annoy him.
"You're a function," Somin said.
"No," the Broker replied. "That would be simpler. I am employed by one, if you like neat labels."
Jaehyuk almost laughed. Almost.
"You know about other iterations," he said. "Mine. The earlier ones."
"Of course."
The Broker said it like asking whether water was wet.
Jaehyuk leaned forward. The wooden bench creaked under him. "Then tell me why there's a difference this time. Floor 2 changed. My path changed. Things are moving before they should."
"Because you entered the Tower with memory intact and the Tower noticed."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It explains more than you think."
Somin gave a short, sharp laugh. No humor in it.
"You're a bastard," she said. "You know that?"
"Frequently. Usually after it has become profitable."
Jaehyuk looked past the Broker, through a gap in the hanging cloth. The Lobby beyond was a churn of motion. Vendors shouting. Clang of forged metal. Healing incense. Wet stone underfoot from someone tracking in rain from a side gate that hadn't been there five minutes ago.
The Tower always smelled like too many lives at once.
"You said you had something for me," Jaehyuk said.
"I do."
"Then stop performing and talk."
The Broker folded their hands. Patient. Precise.
"Floors four through ten have been corrected," they said. "Your presence changed the sequence, so the Tower is adjusting compensation. Some traps will move. One monster route will be cleaner than you remember. One will be much worse. A floor you believed was simple will punish anyone who fights alone."
Jaehyuk's jaw tightened.
That last line.
Floor 4 was the resource floor in his first life. A mess of side chambers, moving routes, and a boss that could be isolated if you knew the trick. If the Tower was changing it... then his old map was already dying.
"How corrected?" he asked.
"Enough to matter. Not enough to be kind."
"That's not information. That's poetry with a fee attached."
"You sound disappointed."
"I sound poor."
That earned him the smallest pause. Almost admiration, if the Broker was capable of that. Which he doubted.
Somin crossed her arms harder. "Why tell us?"
"Because I want a favor."
There it was.
No price sheet. No negotiation theater. Straight to the hook.
Jaehyuk didn't move. "Name it."
"Later."
"No."
"Yes."
The Broker's voice stayed even. Slightly amused. "If I knew the shape of the favor now, it wouldn't be a favor. It would be a contract. Contracts are expensive. Favors are flexible."
Somin muttered, "I hate him."
"You should," the Broker said. "It'll keep you alive."
Jaehyuk studied the ledger again. Thin. Worn. Too old for the clean booth. The cover had no title, no stamp, just a line scratched into the leather like a tally mark.
He could already hear the answer he didn't want.
This wasn't a person with information.
This was a place where information wore a face.
"Why me?" he asked.
"Because you're the one moving pieces the old way." The Broker's gaze sharpened a fraction. "And because you're running out of time."
"For what?"
"For your knowledge to remain useful."
That hit harder than it should have.
Jaehyuk let out a slow breath through his nose. The Broker saw it. Somin saw it too, and that was worse in a different way.
His old map was failing. He already knew it. Hearing it made the floor under him feel thinner.
"Fine," he said. "Talk."
The Broker reached into the ledger and slid out a folded strip of paper. Not from between the pages. From somewhere inside the thing itself. Jaehyuk watched the movement, but couldn't track where the paper had come from.
He hated that.
"Floors four through ten," the Broker said, "in the order you should care about them. Listen carefully."
Jaehyuk didn't touch the paper yet.
The Broker continued anyway. "Floor 4 will punish solo routes. Bring bodies or bring a grave. Floor 5 will reward speed, but only if the right person is carrying the wrong burden. Floor 6 contains an item cache that will be missed if you trust the obvious path. Floor 7 is where guild attention hardens. Floor 8 is not dangerous in the way people think. Floor 9 will test whether your healer can stay conscious under pressure. Floor 10..."
They paused.
Somin's fingers tightened on the curtain pole.
"Floor 10," the Broker repeated, "will introduce a variable you have not seen yet."
"A boss?" Jaehyuk asked.
"No. A choice."
That was almost worse.
He took the paper. It was warm. That should have been impossible. The ink on it was thin and cramped, all numbers and arrows and a single warning mark at the bottom.
Somin leaned in, just enough to read. Her mouth flattened.
"You just carry this around?" she asked.
"I move it when necessary."
"Of course you do."
Jaehyuk unfolded the paper. Floor notes. Route notes. One line under Floor 4 had been underlined twice.
FORCED SEPARATION EVENT.
His eyes narrowed.
The Broker saw the change. "Yes," they said. "That one. Don't be dramatic. It doesn't mean death."
"Usually when people say that, it means death."
"In your case, it means inconvenience. A significant one."
Somin made a noise through her nose. "That's comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Jaehyuk folded the paper back up. "What do you want in return?"
The Broker considered him for a second too long.
"A favor to be named later," they said. "You will know when it arrives. More importantly, you will know why it matters."
"That sounds like a trap."
"Most useful things do."
Jaehyuk looked at Somin. She gave the smallest shake of her head. No trust. Not even a little.
Good.
Her instincts were better than his in some places. Especially on people.
He glanced back at the Broker. "If I refuse?"
"Then you enter Floor 4 with outdated knowledge and a shrinking advantage." The Broker's tone didn't change. "You die faster than you otherwise would. Not immediately. The Tower likes to be patient."
Silence.
A tray clattered somewhere outside. Someone swore. The smell of fried dumplings drifted under the curtain, suddenly cruel in its normalcy.
Jaehyuk hated that he was considering it.
He hated more that the Broker was right.
Old knowledge, in his first life, had kept him alive through horrors that should have killed him. But every floor now felt slightly wrong. A route that should have been clear. A monster that should have turned left. A wall that remembered his hand before he touched it.
This time wasn't the same.
He'd known that. The Broker just made it expensive to ignore.
"Fine," he said. "One favor. Later."
"Accepted."
No handshake. No ceremony. The Broker simply wrote something in the ledger and the page made a tiny sound, like a lock turning.
Somin stared. "That easy?"
"No," the Broker said. "That was the easy part."
Jaehyuk rolled the paper between his fingers. "You mentioned six floors."
The Broker's expression didn't move, but the air in the booth changed. The dry warmth of the tea. The distant noise of the Lobby. All of it felt narrower.
"Did I?" they said.
"Yes."
"Then listen closely."
The Broker leaned forward a fraction. Their voice stayed calm. Measured. Almost kind, if kindness could carry a blade.
"Floor 4 has been altered. The Tower noticed you on Floor 2. It's adjusting."
Jaehyuk didn't speak.
Somin did, very softly. "The Tower noticed him?"
"Yes," said the Broker. "And you have about six floors before it stops being subtle about it."
The curtain behind Somin shifted.
Someone outside had stopped walking.
Then a voice, muffled by cloth and crowd noise, called Jaehyuk's name from the Lobby.
And the Broker smiled like they already knew who was about to walk in.