Felix caught the man's wrist before he could grab his collar. The stranger's hand shook. His eyes darted toward the door, then back to Felix's face. "You have to listen," the man whispered. "If I tell you this, they'll come for you too." Felix let go and stepped back. They were tucked inside the cave's entrance, hidden behind the blooming roses that covered the stone arch. The Floral Cave had seemed like a good place for an exchange — neutral ground, quiet, away from the crowded market where Felix usually worked his trades. But now the flowers felt like a trap. The man moved between Felix and the exit. He pressed a folded paper into Felix's palm. "She told me you keep track of things," the man said. "That you remember who knows what. I need you to remember this, even if it kills us both." Felix opened the paper. Three names. Two he recognized from his network. The third made his stomach drop. He folded it again and slipped it into the pouch at his waist. The stranger was already gone, disappeared into the market noise outside. Felix stood alone among the roses, holding information he couldn't unhear and didn't know how to trade.

Felix walked back to the market two hours after the stranger left. The paper sat in his pouch, warm against his hip. He knew the first two names — Marcus, who traded in property disputes, and Lena, who collected gossip from the docks. But the third name belonged to no one he'd ever tracked. He found Marcus first, leaning against a produce stall. Felix asked him directly. Marcus went pale. "Don't say that name out loud," he whispered. "That person's been watching you for weeks." Felix left him there and went to find Lena at the waterfront. She said the same thing before he could finish his question. "Already watching," she said, pointing toward the old mushroom house at the edge of the market — the one with the blue cap and glowing tendrils nobody had lived in for years. Felix turned to look. A shadow moved behind the round window, then vanished. He touched the pouch at his waist. The third name wasn't someone he needed to find. They'd already found him. He walked toward the mushroom house anyway, because now he knew the shape of the problem. Someone had been tracking his network while he'd been busy tracking everyone else.